"I do not, madam," was the reply.
"It is Miss K., sir."
"What!" said he, "Miss K. yet!"
The lady, somewhat piqued, reiterated, "Yes, sir, Miss K. yet!"
Feeling the delicacy of his situation, and the unfortunate error he had committed, he gently took her hand, and emphatically remarked, "Well, madam, then I venture to assert that it is not the fault of my sex."
On Burr's being appointed, in 1777, a lieutenant-colonel in the army, he joined his regiment, then stationed at Ramapoa, in New-Jersey. At Paramus, not far distant, resided Mrs. Prevost, the wife of Colonel Prevost, of the British army. She was an accomplished and intelligent lady. Her husband was with his regiment in the West Indies, where he died early in the revolutionary war. She had a sister residing with her. It was her son, the Hon. John B. Prevost, who in 1802 was recorder of the city of New-York, and subsequently district judge of the United States Court for the district of Louisiana. The house of Mrs. Prevost was the resort of the most accomplished officers in the American army when they were in the vicinity of it. She was highly respected by her neighbours, and visited by the most genteel people of the surrounding country. Her situation was one of great delicacy and constant apprehension.
The wife of a British officer, and connected with the adherents of the crown, naturally became an object of political suspicion, notwithstanding great circumspection on her part. Under such circumstances, a strong sympathy was excited in her behalf. Yet there were those among the Whigs who were inclined to enforce the laws of the state against her, whereby she would be compelled to withdraw within the lines of the enemy. In this family Colonel Burr became intimate in 1777, and in 1782 married the widow Prevost.
JAMES MONROE TO MRS. PREVOST. [1]
Philadelphia, November 8th, 1778.
A young lady who either is, or pretends to be, in love, is, you know, my dear Mrs. Prevost, the most unreasonable creature in existence. If she looks a smile or a frown, which does not immediately give or deprive you of happiness (at least to appearance), your company soon becomes very insipid. Each feature has its beauty, and each attitude the graces, or you have no judgment. But if you are so stupidly insensible of her charms as to deprive your tongue and eyes of every expression of admiration, and not only to be silent respecting her, but devote them to an absent object, she cannot receive a higher insult; nor would she, if not restrained by politeness, refrain from open resentment.