Thus duped and deceived, Burr fell an easy victim, and, like the fly in the old story, walked boldly into the web that had been prepared for him. It must be acknowledged, however, that he was led to take this step as much by his personal ambition as by the assistance which he counted upon receiving, when needed, from the army of the United States. He was

Burr again turned his eyes eastward. tired of parlor and banquet-hall and ball-room. He longed for the saddle and the field of glory. Money and men he must have. Money first; from friends, from relatives, and interested supporters. Men of gigantic frame and iron nerve from the clearings made in the mighty wildernesses of the West. He would yet sit upon a throne, a crown upon his head. By his side, his daughter Theodosia, the first lady in the land. At his feet, his little grandson, the heir presumptive to the throne which he had raised. Wilkinson should be the general of his army and Truxton the admiral of his fleet. His domains should reach from Canada to the Isthmus, and from the Mississippi to the Pacific. Napoleon might bring Continental Europe to his feet, but Aaron Burr would rule a mightier kingdom.

W

CHAPTER XV

A PALACE IN THE WOODS

HEN Kate recovered consciousness, she found herself lying face downward on the greensward. Lifting her head, she looked about her. She saw something bright gleaming among the green shoots of the turf. Yes, they were the pieces of silver and the pieces of gold that she had dropped when she fainted and fell to the ground. Then there came a mighty rush of memory, and she saw once more the revengeful face of Frederic and heard once more his cruel words.

It was very warm. The sun rode high in the heavens, and its burning rays penetrated every nook and corner of the little clearing. The birds had hushed their songs and were resting quietly in the shade afforded by the leaves and trunks of the trees. On every side could be heard the lazy droning of the insects, that musical accompaniment that Nature supplies as part of a hot summer day.

Kate rose to her feet with difficulty. She felt weak and there was a blinding pain through her eyes and head. She walked slowly to the little grassy mound beside the tree and rested for a while. Then she returned to where the money had fallen, and, dropping upon her knees, picked it up slowly and laboriously, piece by piece; then she attempted to count it, to make sure that she had lost none, but could not. Returning to the farm-house, she went up to her room and threw herself upon her bed. She felt hot and feverish. One

of the other servants, Mary Williams by name, had seen her come in and had noticed her slow step and tired look. In a short time, Mary went to her room and found Kate in a burning fever, tossing to and fro. Captain Clarke was informed of the fact and a doctor was summoned. It was three weeks before Kate was able to leave her bed and sit for an hour or two in the old-fashioned rocker that stood beside it. Mary spent every moment that she could spare from her duties with her. Captain Clarke had not visited her, but Mary said he had asked for her every day and he had sent her some fruit and flowers.

From Mary, Kate learned that Frederic had a long talk with his father on the evening of the duel, and the next day he had left home. Mary did not know just where he had gone but she supposed it was out West.

A month more passed by before Kate had sufficiently recovered to leave Captain Clarke's house. Upon this course she was resolved. Her relations with her employer's son had been known to the other servants and she could not bring herself to remain there when they all knew that he had left home without even saying "Good-bye" to her. Her interview with her employer, just before her departure, lasted about ten minutes. He insisted upon paying her wages in full; she refused to receive them and insisted upon paying the doctor's bill and, at least, a portion of Mary's wages. The captain was equally firm in his refusal to accept a cent for either purpose; so Kate thanked him for his kindness and, not wishing to continue the painful scene any longer, accepted the money which he claimed was due her but which, before leaving, she gave to Mary.

Where should she go? What could she do? Then there came flashing into her mind the memory of that day when the courteous stranger, who had said he was a friend of Colonel Burr, but who her lover had de

clared was Colonel Burr himself, had given her the money for a wedding dowry, and had also told her that in case she needed a friend to call upon Colonel Burr at Richmond Hill, in New York City. Thither she went, to find him absent as may be anticipated. The servant told her the master of the house was not at home. She was advised by John, Colonel Burr's valet, to see Judge Van Ness; in him, she recognized the companion of Colonel Burr on the day of the duel. He knew her and was as courteous and chivalrous in his treatment of her as if he had been Colonel Burr himself. He insisted that she should remain at his house until he wrote to Colonel Burr and received an answer, and she was forced to comply or else go out into the world and seek a situation. She mentioned this latter alternative but Mr. Van Ness would not listen to it. "Colonel Burr would never forgive me," he said, "if I allowed you to take such a course."

With all possible speed, Burr traversed the long stretch of country between New Orleans and Philadelphia. During the journey, his busy brain had been active. Hundreds of plots, plans, and schemes had rushed through his mind, to be cast one side as useless, or adopted wholly, or in part, as of value. He could not declare his actual aims and ulterior purposes in plain language to everybody. No, he must talk differently to different people, as suited their comprehension and availability. To some, he hinted the possibility of his becoming a resident of Kentucky or Tennessee and endeavoring to become elected a member of Congress from one of those States. He never meant to accept any such position, but the telling of this story was an entering wedge to the confidence of those to whom it was told.

To others, he spoke of a great land scheme that he had in mind. Some four hundred thousand acres of land on the Washita River, owned by Baron Bastrop,

were to be purchased by Burr. The land would cost forty thousand dollars and he was endeavoring to raise this sum. His scheme was to colonize it with settlers from the then western states, and, as he told the story, visions of fabulous profits loomed before the eyes of his attentive listeners.

Bearing in mind what Wilkinson had told him about the secret knowledge that he possessed of the Presi dent's wishes and intentions, but which, of course, if attributed to the President would necessarily have to be promptly denied by him, Burr endeavored both by speech and action to convince other listeners that his plans were known only to himself and his intimate friends, and that he was acting in direct opposition to the President for whom, and his followers, he even expressed contempt. To those most closely connected with him by ties of relationship or long-continued friendship, he divulged his ulterior purpose, which was the capture of Texas and Mexico and the formation of an independent kingdom, with himself at the head.

Burr was now ready to make another journey westward, but this time he did not intend to go alone. He felt it would divert suspicion if upon this trip he formed one of a little family party, evidently bent upon viewing the beauties of the great West. So he wrote to his son-in-law explaining his proposed schemes at length, and asked him to meet him in Washington, bringing his wife and little boy with him. When they reached the capital, he answered Van Ness's letter and requested him to arrange to have Miss Embleton join their party. This was done, and from the moment that Theodosia Burr and Kate Embleton met, they became firm and devoted friends.

Theodosia was the result of what might be termed a hot-house system of education. She was far more advanced in the languages, literature, the sciences, and