ginia. He heard again his mother's
voice. What was it that she said? He bent his head as if to listen.

"Your wish--your great desire--your hope--your dream--all these shall
be yours at last, even though the trail be long, even though the
burden be too heavy to carry farther."

So then she had known--she had spoken the truth in her soothsaying
that day so long ago! Now his fading eye looked about him, and he
nodded his head weakly, as if to assent to something he had heard.

He had so earnestly longed--he had so greatly desired--to be an
honorable man! He had so longed and desired to do somewhat for others
than himself! And here was peace, here indeed was conquest. His great
desire was won!

His lax hands dropped between his knees as he sat. A little gust of
wind sweeping down the gully caught up some of the white
ashes--stained as they were with blood that dropped from his veins as
he bent above them--carried them down upon the tiny thread of the
little brook. It carried them away toward the sea--his blood, the
ashes, the secret which they hid.

At length he rose once more, his splendid will still forcing his
broken body to do its bidding. Half crawling up the bank, once more he
stood erect and staggered back across the yard, into the room. The
woman heard him there again. Pity arose in her breast; once more she
mastered her terror and approached the door.

"In God's name, Madam," said he, "bring me water--wine! I am so
strong, I am hard to die! Bind up my wounds--I have work to do! Heal
me these wounds!"

But not her power nor any power could heal such wounds as his. Once
more she called out for aid, and none came.

The night wore away. The dying man lay on his bearskin pallet on the
floor, motionless now and silent, but still breathing, and calm at
last. It was dawn when the recreant servant found him there.

"Peria," said Meriwether Lewis, turning his fading eye on the man, "do
not fear me. I will not hurt you. But my watch--I cannot find it--it
seems gone. I am hard to die, it seems. But the little watch--it
had--a--picture--Ah!"

CHAPTER XIX

DOWN TO THE SEA

Many days later the French servant, Peria, rode up to the gate, to the
door, of Locust Hall, the Lewis homestead in old Virginia. The news he
bore had preceded him. He met a stern-faced, dark-browed woman, who
regarded him coldly when he announced his name, regarded him in
silence. The servant found himself able to make but small speec