'Oh—!' She was startled. She glanced at him quickly. Somehow she had never pictured him as an important figure, for all her love. He had been merely a captain, a secretary, or the leader of a hopeless little expedition into the hinterland. Now he was to be Governor of a tract as large as Europe. Why should he? she thought, suddenly angry. What had he done to merit such honor, when a man like he father could be condemned to prison? But Merne was a friend of Jefferson's, Aaron's bitter enemy. In the bliss of seeing him again she had forgotten that.

' Why did you come to the trial, Meme?'

He hesitated and her hope that he would answer, 'To sec you, to help you,' perished.

Instead he pointed through the coach window, saying, ' Is this your house? The carriage has stopped'. When she nodded coldly, he added, ' May I come inside with you? I have something to say.'

It was cooler inside. Merne stretched out his long legs and watched her seat herself stiffly across from him before the dark fireplace. Suddenly the memory of their parting engulfed them, the feel of each other's arms and lips. They could not look at each other.

Perhaps, he thought, if we had been truly lovers, we should be sated now. This unrest and feverishness would not leap at us yet again. His jaw tightened. There must be no repetition of the rapturous and inconclusive days in Washington. Surely at last they were beyond that. He had been sure of it until he saw her. He had come to the trial at Jefferson's request, fully sharing in the President's hostility toward Aaron and prepared to proffer new evidence against him. He had encountered the ragged edge of the conspiracy as he passed through St. Louis, had talked with a handful of men, who, indiscreet in their cups, had furnished him with many details.

'Go down there, Merne,' ordered Jefferson, 'and demand to be sworn in. I like not the shilly-shally and hair-splitting which Marshall allows. The man should have been hanged long before this. You arc in high favor with the people, and your appointment as Governor will give weight to your evidence.'

He had consented gladly, ignoring the thought of Theo dosia. What if it hurt her? What if she hated him? He had not reached his present position without incurring enmity. Her father was a scoundrel and a menace to the country. It had seemed simple.

And now, alone with her, he felt himself blurred with sentimentality—with passion: his purpose blunted.

'I came down here to give new evidence against Burr'. He flung it at her roughly.

Her eyes widened; she shrank to a listening stillness like a wild thing scenting danger. 'What new evidence?'

'Matters I came upon in St. Louis,' he answered briefly.

'But you won't give it—you can't——'