CHAPTER VI
THE GREAT CONSPIRACY
The simplicity dinner was at an end. Released by the President’s withdrawal, the crowd—it could be called little else—broke from the table. The anteroom filled with struggling guests, excited, gesticulating, exclaiming.
Meriwether Lewis, anxious only to escape from his social duties that he might rejoin his chief, felt a soft hand on his arm, and turned. Theodosia Alston was looking up at him.
“Do you forget your friends so soon? I must add my good wishes. It was splendid, what Mr. Jefferson said—and it was true!”
“I wish it might be true,” said the young man. “I wish I might be worthy of such a man.”
“You are worthy of us all,” returned Theodosia.
“People are kind to the condemned,” said he sententiously.