Though it was not the shortest way to my destination, I went, for a purpose of my own, up Broad Way, past the wretched, makeshift shelters that were taking the place of many fair homes destroyed in the great fire of ’76, past Trinity Church standing as a ghostly ruin on the left, its walls only partly down and a corner of its bell tower still rearing itself high above the fire-killed trees in the churchyard. Beyond the church I made a détour to the westward to get a glimpse of the river. It was not very rough as yet, but a heavy swell was running up with the tide to tell of rough weather to the southward. I recalled the light craft which must be our dependence. It would do very well in a seaway, always provided there was not enough wind to make the waves break over its low gunwale. There were as yet no white-caps to show their teeth on the black and heaving expanse, so I turned back to my errand with rising hope. As on the former occasion, it was the old negro servant who admitted me to the Vandeventer house and took Arnold’s letter above-stairs; and almost before I had had time to feel the cheer of the fire in the luxurious little reception-room whither I went to await whatever answer there might be, the door opened to show me, not Mistress Margaret, nor yet Beatrix, but Mistress Julianna Pettus, Jack’s aunt, and Beatrix’s cousin, once removed. Now, truly, Beatrix had told me very plainly that she was expecting “Cousin Ju”; was delaying her departure for Virginia only until that good lady should come over from Philadelphia to accompany her. But this fact, like some others, had gone completely out of my mind, else I think I should never have had the courage to come within speaking distance of the Vandeventer house that night. For Cousin Julianna was fair, fat and forty, with a mind of her own and a tongue sharper than any whip-lash; and being my own second cousin on my mother’s side, she had a sense of proprietorship in me which she had exercised impartially since she stood godmother for me in the old church in Williamsburg. “Well, Dick Page!” she cried. “So you have come to show me your new clothes, have you? Was there no other ditch that you could wallow in, but you must be the first to disgrace a long line of honorable Virginia gentlemen? Merciful suz! Shame, hot shame on you, boy--to make us all hide our heads this way! Beatrix Leigh will never marry you now; her father would disinherit her flat, and so, too, would I. And you’ve fairly thrown her into Howard Seytoun’s arms, brute beast as he is! No, don’t try to explain it; there is no explanation--there can’t be!”