"No. He's out of town. All the Republican papers are wondering why the President did not include him among the counsel for the Government."
"I dare say," said the younger Cary grimly. "Well, that would have been an entertainment worth hearing, that speech for the prosecution!"
"Don't let's talk of him any more. I feel a traitor to Jacqueline when I do. How slow the people are in coming!"
"They may stay away as long as they please," murmured her lover. "I like a quiet time for worship before all the fuss and flutter. You should always wear blue, Unity."
"You told me yesterday that I should always wear pink. At last, here enters a man!"
"It is Winfield Scott, just up from Williamsburgh. He doesn't like the law and will go into the army. Here are all the Randolphs and the beautiful Mrs. Peyton!"
Unity moved to let Jacqueline reënter the pew. The church was beginning to fill, and the whispering and noise of fluttering fans increased. All the windows were open to the breeze, and the soft scents and sounds and colours, the dimness within the church, and the August skies and waving trees without, combined to give a drowsy, mellow, and enchanted air to old Saint John's and to the gathering people.
"The choir have come into the gallery," said Fairfax Cary. "I hear the scrape of Fitzwhyllson's viol."
"The quiet is over and here comes the world," answered Jacqueline. "Who is that with Mr. Wickham—the tall, lean man?"
"It is the Governor of Tennessee and a fire-eater for Burr—Andrew Jackson by name. The third man is Luther Martin."