ght, when I think you have felt badly and could not
tell anyone. It will all go away if you talk to me about it," she added
confidently.

Hamilton swung her to his shoulder again and started for the dining
room.

"The child is uncanny," he thought. "Can there be anything in that old
theory that tormented and erring souls come back to make their last
expiation in children? That means early death!" He dismissed the thought
promptly.

XXXI

After dinner he called on Oliver Wolcott, the Comptroller, one of his
closest friends, and related the scene of the morning, adding the
explanation. Wolcott was a Puritan, and did not approve of the marital
digressions of his friends. But in this case the offence was so much
less than the accusation that he listened with frequent ejaculations of
content. He agreed at once to call at Hamilton's house at eight o'clock,
look over the papers, and read them aloud when the trio arrived.

"And may the devil damn them," he added. "It will be one of the keenest
pleasures of my life to confound them. The unpatriotic villains! They
know that in disgracing you they would discredit the United States, and
in their hearts they know that your measures are the only wheels for
this country to run on; but to their party spite they would sacrifice
everything. I'll be there."

And when the men called that night at nine o'clock, he read them the
correspondence from beginning to end--Reynold's letters, and those of
the woman. More than once Muhlenberg begged him to desist, but he was
merciless. When he had finished, Hamilton explained that he had
disguised his handwriting lest the man forge or make other use of it.

The three rose as soon as the ordeal was over. "It is no use for me to
attempt to express my regret or my humiliation," said Muhlenberg, "I
shall be ashamed of this as long as I live."

"I feel like an ass and a spy," exclaimed Venable. "I heartily beg your
pardon, sir."

"Your mistake was justifiable. Are you satisfied?"

"More than satisfied."

Hamilton turned to Monroe.

"I made a mistake," said the Senator from Virginia. "I beg your pardon."

"And I shall hear no more of this?"

He received the solemn promise of each, then let them go. But he locked
the letters carefully in their drawer again.

"Are you going to keep those things?" asked Wolcott. "It must have made
you sick to listen to them."

"It did. Perhaps I shall keep them for penance, perhaps because I do not
tru