Theodosia Alston and Jacqueline came out of church together, in a cluster of Carringtons and Amblers.  Besides her affianced, Unity had for company Captain Decatur, Mr. Irving, and Mr. Scott.  The throng, pressing between, separated the cousins.  Aaron Burr’s daughter, though she talked and laughed with spirit and vivacity, was so evidently anxious to be away that the friend with whom she had come made haste down the path to their waiting coach.  Jacqueline, meaning to tarry but a moment beside the woman for whom all, of whatever party, had only admiration and sympathy, found herself drawn along the path to the gate.  The Carrington coach rolled away, and she was left almost alone in the sunny lower end of the churchyard.

The ribbon was unrolling toward her, and she waited, glad of the moment’s quiet.  She saw Unity’s forget-me-not blue, and Charlotte Foushee’s bonnet, piquant and immense, and Mrs. Randolph’s lilac lutestring, and all the blue and green and wine-coloured coats of the men moving toward her as in a summer dream, gay midges in a giant shaft of sunlight.  A great bee droned past her to the honeysuckle upon the wall against which she leaned.  She watched the furred creature, barred and golden, and thought suddenly of the bees about the mimosa on the Three-Notched Road.

A middle-aged gentleman, of a responsible and benevolent cast of countenance, came up to her.  “A very good day to you, my dear Mrs. Rand!”

“And to you, Colonel Nicholas.”

“You are of my mind.  You do not care to dilly-dally after church.  ’Tis as bad as a London rout, where you move an inch an hour.  Well, there are men here to-day who have made some stir in the world!  Do you go to-morrow to the Capitol?”

“Yes.  My cousin and I have seats with Mrs. Wickham.”

“It will not be such a trial as was Warren Hastings’s.  Yet it will have its value both to the eye and the ear.  If it were possible, I would have there every young boy in town.  Is Mr. Rand at home?”

“No.  He is in Williamsburgh for several days.”

The gentleman hesitated.  “Vexatious!  I have something for his own hand, and I myself go out of town after to-morrow.  It may be important—­”

“Cannot I give it to him?”

“It is a small packet, or letter, from the President.  He sent it to me by a private messenger, with a note asking me to do him the friendly service to place it directly in Mr. Rand’s hand.  I have it with me, as I thought I might meet Mr. Rand here.”

“He will hardly return before Wednesday.  When he comes, I will give him the letter with pleasure.”

The other took from his pocket a thick letter, strongly sealed, and addressed in Jefferson’s fine, precise hand.  “I must be away from Richmond for a week or more, and the matter may be important.  I can conceive no reason why, so that it be put directly into Mr. Rand’s hand, one agent should be better than another.  I’ll confide it to you, Mrs. Rand.”