Like the practical Martha that she was, Dame Smith, cumbered with much prospective serving, hastened to the dining-room to set the table. On her exit from the parlor she closed the door behind her, not having the slightest suspicion that chance had made her house a place of clandestine meeting. "Salome! Can it be you?" "It can, if we are not both in a delirium. I did not expect ever to see _you_ again. Who could induce Aaron Burr to come to Ohio?" "Perhaps an irresistible attraction--some spell of bewitchment. You must inform me. What brings you to this wandering wood like a lost Una?" "Business. I came a passenger on General Wilkinson's barge. We had a delightful voyage, a May festival, gaiety, music, dancing." "Do you recollect passing Bacchus Island?" "Yes. Why do you ask? We floated by the interesting place one heavenly afternoon. We saw four persons looking at us from a high bank--two couples that seemed strolling lovers. I wondered if either of the women could be the beautiful Madam Blennerhassett. We were dancing on the deck--that is, the other ladies were; I do not now dance." "I grieve to see that you do not, Mrs. Rosemary. I did not even know that you had become his wife; these mournful robes tell me you are a widow." "You did not know? Do you care? You grieve to see me a widow? Ah, me! Men are consistent. Let me explain the cause of my coming West. I own ever so much land near Cincinnati and a whole block of town lots, bequeathed to me by my late husband. George was kinder to me than I deserved. When I read his will I cried. I went to my lawyer in Philadelphia and asked what I should do to realize most on this Ohio property. He advised me to come here, and have the title examined, and learn the real value of the land, and he gave me a letter to Senator Smith, who, he said, was a good man, one who knows about law and deeds and everything. So I am here. These pokey people are very obliging; they insisted I should lodge with them until my affairs were settled. Now you have my story--tell me yours. As for my bereavement--my heart history--why speak of that?" A film of tears dimmed her eyes as Burr made answer in soothing words. "I am to blame. Let us not pain ourselves by talking or thinking of death or mourning. I dreamt lately of you as you now appear. How beautiful and brilliant you look in black, Salome. Pardon me, Madam--, I knew you by that name in the past, and you must not be offended if I recall." "Ah! do not recall. I am willing for you to let bygones be bygones--if--you--desire. Do you like this black gown better than the blue brocaded one I wore that evening at Princeton?" "How can I decide? You always dress in perfect taste. Whatever you wear is pretty, and you, I am sure, are lovelier than ever."