should I not say that I know it is the least objection in your mind?  My party?  Well, I shall become a leader of my party—­and Republicans are white as well as Federalists.  It is not forgery or murder to detest Pitt and George the Third, or to believe in France!  Is it so poor a thing to become a leader of a party that has gained an empire, that has put an end to the Algerine piracy, that has reduced the debt, that has made easier every man’s condition, and that stands for freedom of thought and deed and advance of all knowledge?  Party!  Now and then, even in Virginia, there is a marriage between the parties!  My family—­or my lack of family?  The fact that my father rolled tobacco, and that now and then I broke a colt for you?” He smiled.  “Well, you must allow that I broke them thoroughly—­and Goldenrod was a very demon!  Pshaw!  This is America, and once we had an ideal!  For the rest, though I do not go to church, I believe in God, and though I have been called an unscrupulous lawyer, I take no dirty money.  Some say that I am a demagogue—­I think that they are wrong.  I love your niece, sir, and more than that—­oh, much more than that!—­she says that she loves me.  She says that she will share my life.  If I make not that sharing sweet to her, then indeed—­But I will!  I will give her wealth and name and place, and a heart to keep.  Again I say that the fault of this meeting is all mine.  I humbly beg your pardon, Colonel Churchill, and I beg your consent to my marriage with your niece—­”

[Illustration:  YOU ARE A SCOUNDREL, SIR!]

The Colonel, who had heard so far in stormy silence, broke in with, “Marry my niece, sir!  I had rather see my niece dead and laid in her grave!  Consent!  I’d as soon consent to her death or dishonour!  Name and place! you neither have them nor will have them!” He turned upon Jacqueline.  “I’ll forgive you,” he said, breathing heavily, “there in the library, when you have written and signed a letter to Mr. Lewis Rand explaining that both he and you were mistaken in your sentiments towards him.  I’ll forgive you then, and I’ll do my best to forget.  But not else, Jacqueline, not else on God’s earth!  That’s sworn.  As for you, sir, I should think that your awakened sense of propriety might suggest—­”

“I am going, sir,” answered Rand.  “I return to the house but to take my papers from the blue room.  Joab shall saddle my horse at once.  You shall not anger me, Colonel Churchill.  I owe you too much.  But your niece has said that she will be my wife, and before God, she shall be!  And that’s sworn, too, sir!  I leave Fontenoy at once, as is just, but I shall write to your niece.  Part us you cannot—­”

“Jacqueline,” cried the Colonel, “the sight of you there beside that man is death to my old heart.  You used to care—­you used to be a good child!  I command you to leave him; I command you to say good-bye to him now, at once and forever!  Tell him that you have been dreaming, but that now you are awake.  God knows that I think that I am dreaming!  Come, come, my little Jack!”