not cast in his lot frankly with the
new land, as he himself had done. He would have to give notice in court
and renounce his allegiance to his sovereign, so ran the new law.

"I have no sovereign," he replied, "and worthless as it now seems, I
will not renounce my title, as your law requires."

"Nor would I," said Hamilton. "You will go home some day. The chaos in
France will find a master. The people are weary of change and will
accept any permanent rule."

"Yes, I hope to return. Such is my intention," and they fell into talk
of Schmidt.

De Courval's last day in the city had come. Schmidt had left him the
free use of his horses, and he would try one lately bought to see how it
would answer for his long journey.

About eleven of a sunny June morning he mounted and rode westward up
Chestnut Street. At Fifth and Chestnut streets, Congress having just
adjourned, the members were coming out of the brick building which still
stands at the corner. He knew many, and bowed to Gallatin and Fisher
Ames. Mr. Madison stopped him to say a word about the distasteful
English treaty. Then at a walk he rode on toward the Schuylkill, deep in
thought.

Beyond Seventh there was as yet open country, with few houses. It was
two years since, a stranger, he had fallen among friends in the Red
City, made for himself a sufficient income and an honorable name and won
the esteem of men. Schmidt, Margaret, the Wynnes; his encounters with
Carteaux, the yellow plague, passed through his mind. God had indeed
dealt kindly with the exiles. As he came near to the river and rode into
the thinned forest known as the Governor's Woods, he saw Nanny seated at
the roadside.

"What are you doing here, Nanny?" he asked.

"The missus sent me with Miss Margaret to carry a basket of stuff to
help some no-account colored people lives up that road. I has to wait."

"Ah!" he exclaimed, and, dismounting, tied his horse. "At last," he
said, and went away up the wood road. Far in the open forest he saw her
coming, her Quaker bonnet swinging on her arm.

"Oh, Miss Margaret!" he cried. "I am glad to have found you. You know I
am going away to-morrow for two months at least. It is a hard journey,
not without some risk, and I cannot go without a word with you. Why have
you avoided me as you have done?"

"Have I?" she replied.

"Yes; and you know it."

"I thought--I thought--oh, let me go home!"

"No; not till you hear me. Can you let me leave in this wa