“Robert, Robert!” cried Souter, looming up out of the darkness and looking decidedly weatherbeaten. “’Tis news I have, great and glorious news.”
“News?” they all repeated in wonder.
“What is it, mon?” asked Rob, trembling with excitement.
“It can speak for itsel’,” replied Souter gleefully, “for here it is.” He pointed behind him. They looked down the path and saw rapidly approaching the door a tall man, enveloped in a long cloak, escorted by a servant in livery. At that moment the light fell on his wet face and they started forward in amazement.
“Lord Glencairn?” cried Robert incredulously, his heart throbbing with a strange new-born hope.
“Aye, my lad, and near drowned,” laughed the visitor genially. Robert grasped his outstretched hand and drew him to the door.
With words of welcome and delight they made room for him to enter. Quickly he removed his wet cloak from his shoulders and threw it to his servant, who hung it beside the fire, while descanting on the inclemency of the weather. Nervously and anxiously they waited for the great man to speak his errand.
Presently he turned from the fireplace, and, addressing Robert, he said brightly, “Well, Mr. Burns, you see I have not forgotten you.”
“Oh, my lord,” faltered Robert, his face white with suppressed feeling, “I—I had despaired of seein’ you mair; do ye—bring me—hope? Is it—am I——” his faltering voice stopped abruptly, but his eager eyes continued to search the noble face which was looking so kindly into his, as if he would draw the news from him.