In Albemarle, at all Republican gatherings the man most in demand was Lewis Rand; and the surrounding counties of Fluvanna, Amherst, Augusta, and Orange considered themselves happy if he could be drawn to this or that mass meeting.  It was not easy to attract him.  He never consciously said to himself, “Be chary of favours; they will be the more prized”; he said instead, “I’ll not waste an arrow where there’s no gold to hit.”  When he saw that it was worth his while to go, he went, and sent an arrow full into the gold.  Amherst and Augusta, Fluvanna and Orange, broke into applause and prophecy, while upon each return home Republican Albemarle welcomed him with added rapture, and Federalist Albemarle hurled another phrase into its already comprehensive anathema.  His reputation grew amain, both in his native section and in the state at large.  Before the autumn his election to the House of Delegates, which in April seemed so great a thing, began to assume the appearance of a trifle in his fortunes.  He would overtop that, and how highly no man was prepared to say.  Through all the clashing of shields, through Republican attack and Federalist resistance, through the clamour over Hamilton’s death, the denunciation and upholding of Burr, the impeachment of Chase, the situation in Louisiana, the gravitation towards France, and the check of England, the consciousness of Pitt and the obsession of Napoleon,—­through all the commotion and fanfaronade of that summer Rand kept a steady hand and eye, and sent his arrows into the gold.  In the law, as in politics, he was successful.  A comprehensive knowledge and an infinite painstaking, a grasp wide and firm, a somewhat sombre eloquence, a personal magnetism virile and compelling,—­these and other attributes began to make his name resound.  He won his cases, until presently to say of a man, “He has Lewis Rand,” was in effect to conclude the matter.  He had no Federalist clients; that rift widened and deepened.  Federalist Albemarle meant the Churchills and the Carys, their kinsmen, connections, and friends.  The gulf seemed fixed.

Jacqueline, keeping at home in the house on the Three-Notched Road, saw very few from out her old life.  Those who had been her girlhood friends kept aloof.  If their defection pained her, she gave no sign—­she had something of her father’s pride.  Among the Republican gentry she was of course made much of, and she saw something of the plainer sort of her husband’s friends.  Tom Mocket came occasionally on business with Rand, and once he brought Vinie with him.  Jacqueline liked the sandy-haired and freckled scamp, and made friends with Vinie.  In the first July days Adam Gaudylock often sat upon her porch, but now for weeks he had been wandering in the West.  Once or twice Mr. Pincornet, straying that way, had delicately looked his pity for a lovely woman in a desert waste.  Cousin Jane Selden remained her good neighbour and kind friend, and once Mr. Ned Hunter brought a message from Unity.  Her old minister