's return. There were now two
letters, and neither was from Washington. One was indeed about matters
political, a tirade from a party leader on Rand's folly in declining,
last year, the nomination for Governor, but it contained nothing to
demand his instant attention. The other, which had come by boat from
Norfolk, seemed of no consequence.

Jacqueline put both aside, and took into her hand the packet given her
by Colonel Nicholas. She sat for a moment, looking at the
superscription. "A letter from Washington," Lewis said, "outlining the
Embargo measures. Open and glance through it to see if there be any
message I should have at once." She thought no otherwise than that this
was the letter in question. Mr. Jefferson was, she knew, upon the
defensive in regard to these measures, and she was glad to believe that
he had fallen into an ancient habit and was willing, as of old, to
expatiate upon his policy to Lewis Rand.

She broke the red seals and unfolded the paper. It proved to be a letter
covering a letter. She let fall the folded, inner missive, drew a candle
nearer, and read in Jefferson's small, formal, and very clear hand:--

I have the honour to restore to you the letter which you will find
enclosed. If you ask how it came into my hands, I have but to say
that, in times of crisis and peril, rules of conduct, on the part
of a government as of an individual, have somewhat to bow to
necessity. Enough that it did come into my hands--last autumn.
Judge if I have used it against you! It is now returned to you
because I no longer conceive it necessary to hold it. I might have
burned it; I prefer that you shall do so.

I have but a word to add to our conversation of last August at
Monticello. I am a man of strong affections. Your youth and all the
eager service you did me in those years, and the great hopes I had
for you, endeared you to me. These things are present in my mind.
Were they not so, you would have heard from me in other wise! Were
they not so, that which I now enclose should not travel back to the
writer's hand; it should remain, distinct and black, upon your
Country's records, for your children's children to read with
burning cheeks! I spare you, but you are of course aware that the
affection of which I spoke is dead, dead as the trust with which I
regarded you, or as the pride with which I dwelt upon your future