The situation in which Robert now found himself was calculated to awaken reflection. The time had come, so he gloomily told his friend, Will Nichol, the morning after the garden party at Lord Glencairn’s, for him to abandon the gayety and dissipation of which he had been too much enamored; and all that day he pondered seriously, if gloomily, on the past, and formed virtuous resolutions respecting the future. He had weeks ago made up his mind to settle himself for life in the occupation of agriculture, and now that Edinburgh had tired of his peculiarities, and the novelty of his appearance had become an old story for them, there was nothing left for him to do but to start in on his new life as soon as possible. To further that end he called upon Sir William that day and demanded a settlement. When he left the office he found himself master of nearly ￡500. With the money in his pocket he again called on Will Nichols and requested him to assist him in the selection of a farm. With his advice and assistance he soon decided to lease the farm of Ellisland, on the banks of the River Nith, just above Dumfries. When he had in this manner arranged his plans for the future his generous heart,[287] which was sore and bleeding from the many wounds it had recently received, wounds which seemed to the suffering man that would never heal in this life, turned in pity and remorse to the mother of his child—a thrill of yearning stirred him strangely as he thought of the little one—his son—a warm feeling of love welled up in his heart as he softly repeated the words; and listening to no consideration but those of honor and duty, and a strange feeling of growing affection, which made him pause in wonder, he sought out Jean at the Inn, having learned that she was still in town, contrary to Lady Glencairn’s assertion, which he had believed; and there, with his friends surrounding them, they were joined in a public declaration of marriage, thus legalizing their union and rendering it permanent for life. Mrs. Dunlop and Mary had not been present at the ceremony. Mary was confined to her bed in a state of nervous collapse, and Mrs. Dunlop, much as she loved Robert, and honored him for the noble step he was taking, could not leave the stricken girl. It was her wish and determination to keep Mary with her as long as she could content herself there. Her kind, motherly heart ached in silent sympathy for the child who had received such a bitter disappointment, and who was bearing her sorrows with such patient fortitude. Before Robert left the city she wrote for him to come and see her, assuring him of her continued friendship, etc., etc. That evening[288] found him seated beside his stanch friend in whom he confided his hopes and his fears for the future, and soon he had poured out the bitterness of his heart, the yearnings of his soul, all the cruel disappointments of his tempestuous life. She listened in sympathetic silence, a smile of encouragement, every now and then, lighting up her face. When he had finished, she told him how proud she was of him, how she gloried in his strength of purpose, his new-made resolutions, cautioned him no............