d to find
his men so happy. At length he spread open the back of his little
leather writing-case, unscrewed his ink-horn and set it safe, drew his
keen hunting-knife, and put a point upon a goose-quill pen. Then he
put away the many written pages which still lay in the portfolio, the
product of his daily labors.

Searching for fair white paper, his eye caught sight of a sealed and
folded letter, apparently long unnoticed here among the written and
unwritten sheets. In a flash he knew what it was! Once more the blood
in his veins seemed to stop short.

TO CAPTAIN MERIWETHER LEWIS, IN CHARGE OF THE VOLUNTEERS FOR
THE DISCOVERY OF THE WEST.--ON THE TRAIL.

He knew what hand had written the words. For one short instant he had
a mad impulse to cast the letter into the fire. Then there came over
him once more the feeling which oppressed him all his life--that he
was a helpless instrument in the hands of fate. He broke the seal--not
noticing as he did so that it had a number scratched into the wax--and
read the letter, which ran thus:

SIR AND FRIEND:

I know not where these presents may find you, or in what
case. Once more I keep my promise not to let you go. Once
more you shall see my face--see, it is looking up at you
from the page! Tell me, do you see me now before you?

Are other faces of women in your mind? Have they lost
themselves as women's faces so often--so soon--are lost from
a man's mind? Can you see me, Meriwether Lewis, your
childhood friend?

Do you remember the time you saved me from the cows in the
lane at your father's farm, when I was but a child, on my
first visit to far-off Virginia? You kissed me then, to dry
my tears. You were a boy; I was a child yet younger. Can you
forget that time--can you forget what you said?

"I will always be there, Theodosia," you said, "when you are
in trouble!"

You said it stoutly, and I believed it, as a child.

I believed you then--I believe you now. I still have the
same child's faith in you. My mother died while I was young;
my father has always been so busy--I scarcely have been a
girl, as you say you never were a boy. You know my
husband--he has his own affairs. But you always were my
friend, in so many ways!

It is true that I am laying a secret on your heart--one
which you must observe all your life. My letter is for y