The fact was that Amelia was expecting some mail at the post office. Also, she wanted to mail a letter. She was writing again to Tom’s cousin who lived in Washington. Tom had missed Jack terribly when he went away. They had shot squirrels and rabbits together, but Jack never took to plowing. He was kind of wild. Jack had urged Tom to give up, to leave the hills. Tom had hung on--and now he was dead. They had told Amelia she must be resigned, that it was “God’s will.” When Amelia began to wonder, she wrote Jack. _Why did Tom die?_ she asked him. From there she had gone on to other questions, many questions. Words had sprawled over the thin sheets. She had never written such a long letter. Jack had replied immediately. But that letter had been only the first. He had sent her newspapers and books. As she read them her astonishment increased. She read them over and over again. Now she was thinking about going down to Washington. She was thinking about it. She hardly saw the old man, driving his mule. The old man did not peer closely at her. His mule turned aside politely. CHAPTER FOUR _Frederick comes to a dead end_ William Freeland, master of Freelands, gave his rein the slightest tug as he rode between the huge stone columns. It was good to be alone and let all memory of the Tilghmans drain from his mind, including Delia’s girlish laughter. He was glad the Christmas was over. Now he could have peace. Just inside the wrought-iron gates, where the graveled drive was guarded by a stately sycamore, the big mare came to a quivering pause. She knew this was where her master wished to stop. From this spot the old dwelling far up the drive, with tulip poplars huddled around it, was imposing. It was a good house, built in the good old days when Maryland boasted noble blood. Beside the winding staircase of the wide hall hung a painting of Eleanor, daughter of Benedict Calvert, sixth Lord Baltimore. William Freeland was not a Calvert; but the families had been close friends, and the lovely Eleanor had danced in those halls. That was before Maryland had broken her ties with England. For a long time there were those who regretted the day Maryland signed the Articles of Confederation; but when ambitious neighbors crowded their boundaries, loyal Marylanders rallied round; and in 1785 William Freeland’s father, Clive Freeland, had gone to Mount Vernon to contest Virginia’s claim to the Potomac. He had spoken eloquently, and Alexander Hamilton had accompanied the young man home. There Hamilton had been received by Clive’s charming bride, had rested and relaxed and, under the spell of Freelands, had talked of his own coral-strewn, sun-drenched home in the Caribbeans.