Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1917-07-26

own conscience has already punished
to forgive me I will not be so cheap"
"But-suppose he does not know"
He could only stand silent, regarding
her fixedly.
HE must never know" she went on.
1T is no time for quixotism to make
yet another suffer. We two must be
strong enough to carry own secret.
1t is better and kinder than it should
be between two than among three. I
thought you dead. Let the past remain
past let it bury it's own dead"
ut is our time of reckoning" said he
at length. Guilty as l have been, sin
ming as I have sinned-tell me, was I
alone in the wrong? Listen. Those
who Joined your fathers cause were
asked to Join in treason to their coun-
try. What he purposed was treason.
Tell me, did you know this when you
came to me?"
He saw the quick pain upon her face,
the flush that rose to her pale cheek.
She drew herself up proudly.
II shall not answer that" said she.
"No" he exclaimed, swiftly contrite.
"Nor shall I ask it. Forgive me. You
never knew. You we're innocent. You
do right not to answer such a question"
II only wanted you to be happy-that
was my one DESIRE"
She looked aside, and a moment pass
ed before she heard his deep voice re-
ply.
Happy! I am the most unhappy
man in all the world. Happiness? No.
Rags, shreds, patches Of happiness
that is all that is left of happiness for
US, as men and women usually count it.
But, tell me, what would make you most
happy now Of these things remaining?
I have come back to pay my debts. Is
there anything I can do? What would
make you happiest?"
my fathers freedom"
II cannot promise that, but all that
I can do l will"
Were my father guilty that would
be the act Of a noble mind. But how?
You are Mr.. Jefferson's friend, not the
friend of Aaron Burr. All the world
knows that"
Precisely. All the world knows that,
or thinks it does. 1t thinks it knows
that Mr.. Jefferson is i%mplacable. But
suppose all the world were set to won
dering? 1 am just wondering myself if
it would be right to suborn a juryman,
like John Randolph Of Roanoke"
THAT is impossible. What do you
mean?"
81 mean this. This afternoon you
and I will go into the trial room to-
gether. l have not yet attended a SEES
sion Of the court. Today I will hand
you to your seat in full sight of the
jury box"
"You-give your presence to one who
is now a social pariah? The ladies Of
Richmond no longer speak to me. But
to what purpose?"
perhaps to small purpose. I cannot
tell. But let us suppose that 1 go with
you and that we sit there in sight of
all. I am known to be the intimate
friend Of MI. Jefferson. Ergo
ergo! Mr.. Jefferson is not hostile
to us. And you would do that-you
would take that chance?"
"For you"
And he did-for her. That afternoon
all the crowded courtroom saw the bea-
|. die make way for two persons of i'm
portance. One was a tall, grave, dis
tinguished looking man, %impassive,
calm, Il man whose face was known to
all-the new governor Of Louisiana,
viceroy of the country that Burr had
lost. Upon his arm, pale, clad all in
black, walked the daughter of the pris-
oner at the bar.
There, in full view of all the attend
ents. in full view of the jury and of
uoII1 f" OL Ruauohe, IJS lore
man, sat the two persons who had had
most to do with this scene Of which
they now made a part. There sat the
man who had explored the great west
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