They were to sail about midnight, and the Prince made his farewells. He had always treated Flora MacDonald with the greatest deference, and invariably rose when she entered the room, and he used to speak of her as "our Lady." He kissed her—the usual salutation of the time. "For all that has happened," he said, "I hope, madam, we shall meet in St. James's yet." Nine days had elapsed since they first met in the shieling in South Uist; for three days they had been fellow-wanderers. He was not destined to receive her at St. James's, nor ever to see her again after their parting in the village inn, but a gracious recollection of "our Lady" can never have been obliterated by the sins and the sorrows of later years. She was again to meet a Prince of Wales, for, when she was a prisoner in London,
