d all eyes followed him down the steps. He crossed
the yard or two of turf to the black horse, and stood beside the rider.
"You wished me, sir?"

"I wish to know if you will be so good as to come to Monticello
to-night? After nine the house will be quiet."

"Certainly I will come, sir."

"I will look for you then." He bowed slightly and gathered up his
reins. Rand stood back, and with a "Good-afternoon to you all,
gentlemen," the President wheeled his horse and rode down the street
towards his mountain home. The crowd about the post-office received its
mail and melted away to town house and country house, to supper at both,
and to a review, cheerful or acrimonious, of the events of the day,
including the fact that, as far as appearances went, Lewis Rand was yet
the President's staff and confidant. The Churchills and Fairfax Cary
rode away together. In passing, the latter just bent his head to Rand,
but Colonel Dick and Major Edward sat like adamant. Rand took the
letters doled out to him by Mr. Smock, glanced at the superscriptions,
and put them in his pocket, then walked to the Eagle and spoke to the
hostler there, and finally, as the big red ball of the sun dipped behind
the mountains, betook himself to Tom Mocket's small house on the edge of
town.

He found Vinie on the porch. "Is Adam here?" he asked. She nodded.
"That's well," he said. "I want a talk with him--a long talk. And,
Vinie, can you give me a bit of supper? I won't go home until late
to-night;--I have sent my wife word. Tell Adam, will you? that I am
here, and let us have the porch to ourselves."

CHAPTER XIX

MONTICELLO AGAIN

The night was hot and dark when Rand, riding Selim, left the town and
took the Monticello road. He forded the creek, and the horse, scrambling
up the farther side, struck fire from the loose stones. Farther on, the
way grew steep, and the heavy shadow of the overhanging trees made yet
more oppressive the breathless night. The stars could hardly be seen
between the branches, but from the ground to the leafy roof the
fireflies sparkled restlessly. Rand thought, as he rode, of the future
and the present, but not of the past. It was so old and familiar, this
road, that he might well feel the eyes of the past fixed upon him from
every bush and tree; but if he felt the gaze, he set his will and would
not return it. For some time he climbed through the thick darkness, shot
with those small and wandering fires, but at last