As the sun set behind the Ragged Mountains, the polls closed, and the sheriff proclaimed the election of the Republican candidate.

The Court House was quickly emptied, nor was the Court House yard far behind.  The excitement had spent itself.  The result, after all, had been foreknown.  It drew on chilly with the April dusk, and men were eager to be at home, seated at their supper-tables, going over the day with captured friends and telling the women the news.  On wheels, on horseback or afoot, drunk and sober, north, south, east, and west, they cantered, rolled, and trudged away from the brick Court House and the trampled grass, and the empty bowls beneath the locust trees.

The defeated candidate and the successful shook hands:  Cary quiet and smiling, half dignified and half nonchalant; Rand with less control and certainty of himself.  The one said with perfection the proper things, the other said them to the best of his ability.  Young Fairfax Cary, standing by, twisting his riding-whip with angry fingers, curled his lip at the self-made man’s awkwardness of phrase.  Rand saw the smile, but went on with his speech.  Colonel Churchill, who had been talking with Adam Gaudylock, left the hunter and came up to Cary.  “Ludwell, you and Fair are not going to Greenwood to-night!  I have orders from the ladies to bring you back to Fontenoy—­alive or dead!”

“I find myself very much alive, Colonel!” answered Cary.  “Thank you, I’ll gladly spend the night at Fontenoy.  Fontenoy would draw me, I think, if I were dead!”

“Dick has a middling Madeira,” remarked Major Edward.  “And after supper Jacqueline shall sing to us.  Good-evening, Mr. Rand!”

“Good-evening to you, Major Churchill,” said Rand.  “Good-evening, Mr. Cary.  Good-evening, gentlemen!”

“Here are Eli and Mingo with the horses,” said Fairfax Cary, his back to the Republican.  “Let’s away, Ludwell!”

Colonel Churchill laughed.  “Fontenoy draws you too, Fairfax?  Well, my niece Unity is a pleasing minx—­yes, by gad!  Miss Dandridge is a handsome jade!  Come away, come away, gentlemen!”

Federalists and Republicans exchanged the stiffest of bows, and the party for Fontenoy mounted and took the road.  The Republicans whom they left behind had a few moments of laughter and jubilation, and then they also quitted the Court House yard and called to the servants for the horses.

“You’ll spend the night at Edgehill, I hope, Mr. Rand?” cried one.  “Mrs. Randolph expects you—­she will wish to write to her father of your day—­”

“No, no, come with me!” put in another.  “There’s all this business to talk over—­and I’ve a letter to show you from Mr. Madison—­”

“Best come to the Eagle!” cried a third.  “No end of jolly fellows, and bumpers to next year—­”

Rand shook his head.  “Thank you, Colonel Randolph—­but I am riding to Monticello.  Mr. Jefferson has written for some papers from the library.  Burwell will care for me to-night.  Present, if you will, my humble services to Mrs. Randolph and the young ladies.  By the same token I cannot go with you, Mr. Carr, nor to the Eagle, Mr. Jones.—­My grateful thanks to you, one and all, gentlemen!  I am a plain man—­I can say no more.  We will ride together as far as the creek.”