Who is this coming in--the lady
with Mrs. Carrington? Look! It's Burr's daughter--it's Mrs. Alston!"

"She's a brave woman," said Unity. "One can't but honour such spirit,
courage, and loyalty. She's dressed as if it were a gala day!"

"If you'll let me pass," whispered Jacqueline, "I will speak to her. We
met at the Amblers' the other night. There's an anxious heart behind
that fine fire!"

She rose and, slipping past Unity, moved up the aisle to the Carrington
pew. The two left behind looked after the gliding white figure in
silence. Unity sighed. "To me Lewis Rand's like a giant, and she's like
his captive. And yet--and yet there's much that's likeable in the giant,
and I can perfectly well see how the captive might adore him!"

"I can't," retorted the other. "I'll grant his ability, but there's a
little worm at the heart! Even his genius will one day turn against him;
it is the tree too tall that falls the soonest. He's not coming here
to-day?"

"No. He's out of town. All the Republican papers are wondering why the
President did not include him among the counsel for the Government."

"I dare say," said the younger Cary grimly. "Well, that would have been
an entertainment worth hearing, that speech for the prosecution!"

"Don't let's talk of him any more. I feel a traitor to Jacqueline when I
do. How slow the people are in coming!"

"They may stay away as long as they please," murmured her lover. "I like
a quiet time for worship before all the fuss and flutter. You should
always wear blue, Unity."

"You told me yesterday that I should always wear pink. At last, here
enters a man!"

"It is Winfield Scott, just up from Williamsburgh. He doesn't like the
law and will go into the army. Here are all the Randolphs and the
beautiful Mrs. Peyton!"

Unity moved to let Jacqueline reenter the pew. The church was beginning
to fill, and the whispering and noise of fluttering fans increased. All
the windows were open to the breeze, and the soft scents and sounds and
colours, the dimness within the church, and the August skies and waving
trees without, combined to give a drowsy, mellow, and enchanted air to
old Saint John's and to the gathering people.

"The choir have come into the gallery," said Fairfax Cary. "I hear the
scrape of Fitzwhyllson's viol."

"The quiet is over and here comes the world," answered Jacqueline. "Who
is that with Mr. Wickham--the tall, lean man?"

"It is the Governor of Tennessee and a fir