“Weel, mum,” replied Souter reflectively, “we all change in time, ye ken. Some for worse, like mysel’, and some for the better, like yoursel’, askin’ your pardon for my boldness. And ye ken Robbie’s life has been very hard these past few years.” He sighed and shook his head dolefully. “But I want to say right here,” and his heavy eyebrows drew together in a black scowl, “Robbie Burns’ sickness is na’ due to his drinkin’, as ye people of Edinburgh believe, and put in yer penny papers. Robbie is na drunkard. I hae known him from infancy, and I affirm that he has never been guilty of the gross enormities he has been charged with. He could always attend to his duties,” and he looked with aggressive suspicion into the downcast faces of his listeners for some sign of doubt of his assertion, which, though stanchly loyal, was not altogether true, as he knew only too well. “But there is nae use telling all ye know,” he told himself philosophically. “And what people don’t know about the food they eat, will no hurt their appetites.”
“I am very glad to hear that,” ejaculated the Duke warmly.
“An’ he is a fond father an’ a maist affectionate husband,” continued Souter stoutly. “I’ll go in noo and tell him ye’re here,” and he strode into the house, leaving the couple standing in the path much to their astonishment.
“It doesn’t seem right, father,” said Lady Nancy sadly, “for such genius to dwell in that little hut, amid such surroundings. How I pity him.”
There was a suggestion of tears in the sweet voice which her fond father noticed with sudden apprehension. He looked at her closely.
“Who is to blame for his being here?” he retorted firmly. She remained discreetly silent. Then he continued in a softer voice, “But I mustn’t blame nor censure him, now that he is sick, and down at the bottom again. It is, indeed, a lasting pity that such genius should be allowed to smother here in poverty and among questionable companions, who, ’tis said, seek only to bring him to their level, and who, alas! are but too surely dragging him there, I fear, a weak, unresisting, but also a remorseful, repentant victim.”
“And must he stay on here, father, to die a poor exciseman?” asked Nancy with a strangely beating heart. “Even the added salary of the Supervisorship cannot be sufficient to keep such a family.” At that moment Souter opened the door. They turned to him quietly.
“Well, what says Mr. Burns?” asked the Duke impatiently.
A little smile of amusement appeared on Souter’s face. “Mr. Burns begs you to enter and to be seated,” he replied.