As Mr. Jefferson passed down the room he was stopped by Mr. Gilbert Stuart, who touched him on the arm.

“Mr. Jefferson,” he exclaimed, in eager tones, “take pity on an exile just returned and tell me who your young friend is.  I had thought Mr. Hamilton’s one of the finest faces I had ever seen until I set eyes on this young gentleman with him.  And, indeed, I think they resemble one another vastly.  Has our young West Indian at last found a relative?  I hear he is but indifferently provided with that commodity.  No?  Well, I protest his young friend has the most charming countenance I have ever seen since I painted Mr. Grant in London.”

“Which portrait, Mr. Stuart, I hear is a masterpiece and has added enormously to your reputation.”  Mr. Stuart bowed low at the compliment, well pleased that Mr. Jefferson should have heard so favorably of that wonderful picture of his which had set all London gossiping and had caused Mr. Benjamin West and Sir Joshua Reynolds (so ’twas said) some pangs of envy.  “As for myself, however,” went on Mr. Jefferson, “I can scarcely credit that it is a greater piece of work than the portrait of General Washington which you have executed for the Marquis of Lansdowne at Mr. William Bingham’s request.  I cannot express to you how greatly the replica of that picture pleases me.  Its arrival here has been kept a profound secret from all save my sister, but I am getting as impatient as a child to show it to my guests, and can scarcely wait for the supper-hour to arrive.”

“I sincerely hope, sir, both as an artist and a friend, that the surprise you have planned will not turn into a disappointment.  But you have not yet told me, Mr. Jefferson, who the interesting young gentleman is with Mrs. Carr.”

“That,” said Mr. Jefferson, looking kindly toward the youth beside his sister, “is young Calvert of Strathore, and a finer young gentleman does not live in Virginia—­no, nor in any other state of this country,” he added, warmly.  “He is of the famous Baltimore family, a direct descendant of Leonard Calvert, cadet brother of the second Lord Baltimore, and is the bearer of my Lord Baltimore’s name, Cecil Calvert, to which has been prefixed Edward, for his father.  The family came to this country in 1644, I believe, and for several generations lived in the colony of Maryland, and have always been people of position and wealth.  Ned’s father, however, had a serious disagreement with his family, because of his marriage with a lovely young Quakeress of Philadelphia, and finally broke off entirely from his people, renouncing even the long-cherished Catholic faith, and came to Virginia when their only child was about two years old.  Mr. Calvert built a spacious, comfortable residence on the banks of the Potomac not far from Mr. Washington’s residence, calling it ‘Strathore,’ after the older Maryland place.”

“What a head!” murmured Mr. Stuart, looking at the young man.  “What sincerity and quiet strength!  But continue, I beg of you.”