So Theo's evening was, after all, redeemed from utter failure, and when the guests left, they took leave of Aaron quite cordially. Colonel William, indeed, even urged him to come to Clifton, so that he might see Gallatin for himself and judge of his wind.

'Stay as long as you can, my dear sir; you are always wel come at Clifton'. He had quite forgotten Aaron's disgrace until, in the coach going home, Maria reminded him of it with acrid emphasis.

As the front door of the Oaks swung to behind the last guest, the three inside stood together in the moss-hung rooms. Theo looked up at her husband ruefully. 'You see, Joseph, it was for Father that I wanted Ishmael and the barge, but I dared not tell you. Will you forgive me?'

Aaron laughed. 'She's a minx, but I think you must forgive her. See how pretty she looks tonight.'

She stood between them, small and delicate in her embroidered rose dress, an enchanting expression of mingled naughtiness and contrition on her flushed face. The men's eyes met, for once drawn into accord. Joseph's heavy face lightened.

'You're right, sir,' he said. 'I suppose I must forgive her'. Theodosia, laughing a little, dropped them both a curtsy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

AARON could stay with them but a few days, it seemed. Then he wished to go to Statesburgh and greet Natalie before returning to Washington. In the Federal District his office protected him. No matter what charges lay against him, he was still Vice-President with duties to perform until March.

'Then what will you do?' asked Theo fearfully. She had been dreading to bring the question up ever since he came. Where would he go, and what could he do, when his term expired and the ten thousand a year with it? New York and New Jersey were alike closed to him.

'There are many things I could do,' said Aaron. 'After all, I am a not incapable lawyer'. He had, in fact, never lost a major case. 'I might hang out my sign in Philadelphia or Richmond. But I shall not. I have far more important things in mind.'

Theo looked up in surprise at an unusual seriousness in his voice.

They were sitting on the wide front porch at the Oaks. Gampy played on the lawn below them, singing a vague little song to himself and dragging a wagon full of treasured stones from a pile on the driveway to another pile beneath the largest live-oak. It was late afternoon, and the slanting sun filtered through moss onto his curls until they sparkled with flame.