But she sang of love, human love, while he in that blinding instant knew—as she most mercifully would never know—that she sang also of death. Love and death intermingled, the two edges of the same sword. Tenderness and a great pity held him.

Theo's hands fell from the keys, her brilliant eyes sought his face. He came to her and kissed her gently as he would have kissed a child.

She caught his hand. 'Merne, promise me that you will do nothing to hurt Father—promise me.'

He sighed, and turned from her a little. The moment of illumination was gone. Life slid back into its neat, appointed course. Love and death, foreboding and rapture, they made no sense, he thought, with faint disgust. How had he managed to read all this into a piece of sentimental music?

'I can't promise, Theodosia. I came to Richmond for a purpose. To do—if you will forgive the cant—my duty. Our love cannot alter that.'

'You're cruel and hard!' she blazed, flinging her head back. Then she added in a softer voice as a new hope occurred to her: 'At least, Merne, come with me and talk to Father. You scarcely know him; you are prejudiced. If you will just talk with him, you will see how you have misunderstood——'

Poor baby! he thought. She believes her father to be some sort of wizard; that a few honeyed words from the fascinating little Burr will enslave me.

He smiled at her sadly. 'If you like, I'll go with you. But it will do no good.'

Already she had darted for her cloak and tied its brown ribbons beneath her chin. 'He will be back in—in the penitentiary by now. Call the carriage, please. It will be quicker. The mob knows it. They let me through.'

He complied silently, already regretting his agreement. Together they passed the staring guards on the ground floor of the prison. The jailer, sprawling on a stool before Aaron's door, greeted her courteously: 'Good afternoon, Mrs. Alston. You're early, ain't you? He won't be expecting you yet Who's the gent?'

'A friend of mine,' she answered quickly. 'I will vouch for him. We shan't be long.'

The man touched his cap and unlocked the door. It swung silently open on its well-oiled hinges, disclosing Aaron in the center of the room at his writing-table as usual. But his position was not as usual. His head, that she had never seen anything but jauntily erect, was slumped on his arms. His shoulders drooped, they seemed shrunken. He looked defeated—and old.

Theo uttered an instinctive cry of pain and his head jerked up. As he saw her companion, a greenish light flashed in his eyes. It was gone in a second, vitality flowed back into him and a subtly sneering defiance. He sprang lightly to his feet.