She had read instances of striking and wonderful conversions from words dropped by children and women,—­and suppose some such thing should happen to her! and that this so charming and distinguished and powerful being should be called into the fold of Christ’s Church by her means!  No! it was too much to be hoped,—­but the very possibility was thrilling.

When, after supper, Mrs. Scudder and the Doctor made their adieus, Burr’s devotion was still unabated.  With an enchanting mixture of reverence and fatherly protection, he waited on her to the last,—­shawled her with delicate care, and handed her into the small, one-horse wagon,—­as if it had been the coach of a duchess.

“I have pleasant recollections connected with this kind of establishment,” he said, as, after looking carefully at the harness, he passed the reins into Mrs. Scudder’s hands.  “It reminds me of school-days and old times.  I hope your horse is quite safe, Madam.”

“Oh, yes,” said Mrs. Scudder, “I perfectly understand him.”

“Pardon the suggestion,” he replied;—­“what is there that a New England matron does not understand?  Doctor, I must call by-and-by and have a little talk with you,—­my theology, you know, needs a little straightening.”

“We should all be happy to see you, Colonel Burr,” said Mrs. Scudder; “we live in a very plain way, it is true,”—­

“But can always find place for a friend,—­that, I trust, is what you meant to say,” he replied, bowing, with his own peculiar grace, as the carriage drove off.

“Really, a most charming person is this Colonel Burr,” said Mrs. Scudder.

“He seems a very frank, ingenuous young person,” said the Doctor; “one cannot but mourn that the son of such gracious parents should be left to wander into infidelity.”

“Oh, he is not an infidel,” said Mary; “he is far from it, though I think his mind is a little darkened on some points.”

“Ah,” said the Doctor, “have you had any special religious conversation with him?”

“A little,” said Mary, blushing; “and it seems to me that his mind is perplexed somewhat in regard to the doings of the unregenerate,—­I fear that it has rather proved a stumbling-block in his way; but he showed so much feeling!—­I could really see the tears in his eyes!”

“His mother was a most godly woman, Mary,” said the Doctor.  “She was called from her youth, and her beautiful person became a temple for the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.  Aaron Burr is a child of many prayers, and therefore there is hope that he may yet be effectually called.  He studied awhile with Bellamy,” he added, musingly, “and I have often doubted whether Bellamy took just the right course with him.”

“I hope he will call and talk with you,” said Mary, earnestly; “what a blessing to the world, if such talents as his could become wholly consecrated!”