Joseph again gave his assurances. The prospect of soon seeing his homeland and pangs at parting from Theodosia had induced in him an unusual state of emotion.

His eyes were moist as the Veronica set sail, and he strained them to get the last glimpse of the New York skyline—a jumble of low, clustered red and brown rooftops, dominated by the high-flung spire of Trinity Church.

He mused sentimentally for a while, leaning on the after rail and watching the swirling wake, until the Veronica, tacking, rolled halfway over in a ground swell, and his meditations were disagreeably replaced by a queasy feeling in his stomach.

He loathed the sea, and his vexation increased at finding his cabin smaller and dirtier than he had expected. Cato, his bodyservant, crouched on the planks, was already retching with the seasickness which assailed all the negroes.

'Don't you dare puke here, you worthless nigger!' shouted Joseph, pointing his command by a hard kick on the Gullah's back side.

When Cato had staggered out, Joseph locked the door and hunted for his escritoire. Difficult though it was to recapture the nostalgic yearning of an hour back, he dipped his pen and set bravely to writing the first pages of his first letter to Theodosia.

She received the letter a month later. As Aaron had expected, it surprised her by its eloquence. Beneath the ponderous phrases ran a current of real feeling. He told her that he missed her; he described his voyage and his reception on the Waccamaw; he hinted at their wedding date.

Theo's ankle healed slowly, and this cut her off from most of her normal distractions. No dances, no rides on Minerva, no gay expeditions to Turtle Bay. She had much time for reading and pursuing her studies as directed by Aaron. And she had plenty of time for letter-writing.

Joseph's image softened and acquired a romantic blur. Relieved of his bodily presence, she discovered in him virtues that she had not previously noted. It would have been strange had she not, for Aaron daily pointed out these virtues. He commented on Joseph's proficient horseback riding, on his aristocratic appearance, on his growing political aptitude. 'Mark my words,' said Aaron, 'he will be Governor of his State some day, unless I can find for him a loftier situation. Which is entirely possible.'

This was as close as Aaron ever came to mentioning his ambition, even to Theo. He was engaged in a perilous political balancing act, and his native discretion had deepened to complete secrecy.