He saw the quick pain upon her face, the flush that rose to her pale cheek. She drew herself up proudly.
“I shall not answer that!” said she.
“No!” he exclaimed, swiftly contrite. “Nor shall I ask it. Forgive me! You never knew—you were innocent. You do right not to answer such a question.”
“I only wanted you to be happy—that was my one desire.”
She looked aside, and a moment passed before she heard his deep voice reply.
“Happy! I am the most unhappy man in all the world. Happiness? No—rags, shreds, patches of happiness—that is all that is left of happiness for us, as men and women usually count it. But tell me, what would make you most happy now, of these things remaining? I have come back to pay my debts. Is there anything I can do? What would make you happiest?”
“My father’s freedom!”
“I cannot promise that; but all that I can do I will.”
“Were my father guilty, that would be the act of a noble mind. But how? You are Mr. Jefferson’s friend, not the friend of Aaron Burr. All the world knows that.”