and fight the
British. Only, they had never kept their family records, their
descendants had never climbed high in the world; and now one of them
was sitting in her own appropriate environment, suggesting in her sweet
face, her curling hair and slender figure, in the very cape thrown over
the back of the chair, the familiar picture of Priscilla.

It was Emmet, an American of only one generation, who reminded her of
the legend that Washington had stopped there overnight on his way to
take command of the army in Cambridge; but she was too deeply absorbed
in thinking how handsome he was and how much he seemed the mayor to
listen with attention to his remarks. She took his intellectual
interests for granted, and accepted as a matter of course his larger
knowledge of a history that was his merely by adoption. Love was her
mental theme and the sum of all her interests, not academic
speculations concerning the effect upon America of the great Irish
immigration of the last century, of which indeed she had never even
heard.

She had not observed his quick, keen glance at the stalls of the
stable, nor noted his relief when he found them empty. They two had
the house entirely to themselves, but the larger dining-room, seen
through the open door, suggested guests, for the tables were set and
the lights turned low.

"Yes, sir," the waiter answered in reply to his question, "there's a
party due here at six-thirty from Warwick. Mr. Cobbens is bringing 'em
out."

"Then hurry up," Emmet commanded. "Bring us something hot, and be
quick about it."

The man did not know him; there was consolation in that. But Emmet
realised the necessity of getting away before the party should arrive.
There seemed a fatality in the coincidence that he and Cobbens should
cross each other's path twice in the same day, when often they did not
meet for a fortnight.

As Lena Harpster drank her coffee and noted her lover's increasing
uneasiness, she gave no sign of her resentment, part of which was due
to the unwillingness of a sensuous nature to leave a warm corner by the
fire on a winter night. Her awakened sense of power made her for the
first time rebellious of being hustled out of sight and kept in the
dark. The struggle between her and Emmet was on in earnest, and her
heart beat fast with a resolve to delay him there until they should be
seen together.

It was quarter after six when the jingle of bells was heard before the
door, and Co