It was during that visit also, however, that she learned to appreciate the business shrewdness of her father. For after dinner on the first day, after the count had retired and they were sitting in the parlor together, James produced a piece of paper and handed it to her father. “I thought you might be interested in this,” he said.

It was a letter from Washington, to the Patriot governor of New York.

I understand, my dear sir, that you have confiscated the estates of the Tory, John Master, of New York. I should be vastly obliged if you would convey those lands to Colonel James Master, who would otherwise have inherited them, and who has, from first to last, during these long years, done our cause the greatest service.

His father smiled. “You’re made a colonel now, I see. My congratulations.”

“Thank you, Father. I’m afraid Washington’s letter didn’t do me much good, though. The farms have already been sold and I shall have a devil of a job getting them back.”

“In that case,” said his father, “I have something to show you.” And rising from the table, he returned a couple of minutes later with a pile of papers, which he handed to his son. James looked at them with surprise.

“This is Patriot money, Father.”

“Promissory notes from your Congress, to be exact. To be redeemed at par—if Congress ever has the ability to pay, that is. Down the years, as you well know, your Congress’s notes have been increasingly discounted. I started buying them soon after Yorktown—only paid pence for them. I believe you’ll find, however, that Congress will now accept them, at full value, as payment for confiscated Loyalist land.”

“There’s a small fortune here,” exclaimed James.

“I believe we shall end this war,” said Master, with quiet satisfaction, “with considerably more land than we had when it began.” Then he turned to Abigail. “You have been buying china and glass, Abby. I have been buying debt. It’s all the same game. The risk was high, so the price was low. And of course, I had the money ready to do it.”

If the merchant felt pleased with himself about these transactions, however, there was something else that pleased him also. It was the day after James and his friend had left that he spoke quietly to Abigail.

“I noticed, Abby, that the Count de Chablis was rather agreeable to you.”

“Was it so plain, Papa? I hope I did not embarrass myself.”

“Not at all. But a father notices these things, you know. And I was very glad, Abby.”

“Why, Papa?”

“It will soon be two years since Albion died,” he said gently. “You have mourned for him, as you should. But it is time, now, for you to begin your life again.”

And she knew that it was true.