they were very early, a fact which presently brought a whispered
ejaculation of annoyance from Miss Dandridge. "I love a flutter when I
come in and the knowledge that I've turned every head--and here we've
entered an empty church! Heigho! Nothing to do for half an hour."

"Read your prayer book," suggested Jacqueline. "Oh! does it open just
there as easily as all that?"

"It always did open just there," answered Miss Dandridge. "It's
something in the binding. Heigho! 'Love, honour, and obey.' Obey!"

"Your entrance," said her cousin, "was not entirely unseen, and here
comes one whose head is certainly turned."

"Is it?" asked Unity, and hastily closed the prayer book as Fairfax Cary
entered the pew behind them.

Jacqueline turned and greeted the young man with a smile. There was now
between Greenwood and Roselands, between the house on Shockoe Hill and
the quarters of the Carys at the Swan, a profound breach, an almost
utter division. Lewis Rand and Ludwell Cary were private as well as
political enemies, and all men knew as much. There had been no attempt
on the part of either to conceal the fact of the duel in November. Their
world of town and country surmised and conjectured, volubly or silently,
according to company, drew its conclusions, and chose its colours. The
conclusions were largely false, for it occurred to no one--at least
outside of Fontenoy--to connect the quarrel and the duel with the
President's proclamation and the Burr conspiracy. During the past winter
Cary had been much in Albemarle, little in Richmond, and the encounters
of the two had not been frequent. In the spring, however, matters had
brought him to the city, and in the fever and excitement of the ensuing
summer he and Rand were often thrown into company. When this was the
case, they spoke with a bare and cold civility, and left each other's
neighbourhood as soon as circumstances permitted. Cary came, of course,
no more to the house on Shockoe Hill. Jacqueline, remaining in town
through the summer because her husband remained, saw him now and again
in some public place or gathering. He bowed low and she inclined her
head, but they did not speak. Her heart was hot and pained. She had
pleaded that afternoon in the cedar wood for his better understanding of
Lewis, and to what purpose?--an open quarrel and a duel! She did not
want to speak; she wanted to forget him.

But for Fairfax Cary, friend and shadow though he was of the elder
brother,