smiling quizzically at the young man,
yet half lovingly; for to no other being in the world did he ever give
the confidence that he accorded Meriwether Lewis.

"I do not see how I could be President without you, Merne, my son,"
said he, employing the familiar term that Meriwether Lewis had not
elsewhere heard used, except by his mother. "Look what we must do
today!"

The young secretary turned his own grave eye upon the cluttered desk;
but it was not dread of the redoubtable tasks awaiting him that gave
his face all the gravity it bore.

"Mr. Jefferson--" he began, but paused, for he could see now standing
before him his friend, the man whom, of all in the world, he loved,
and the man who believed in him and loved him.

"Yes, my son?"

"Your burden is grievous hard, and yet----"

"Yes, my son?"

But Meriwether Lewis could not speak further. He stood now, his jaws
set hard, looking out of the window.

The older man came and gently laid a hand upon his shoulder.

"Come, come, my son," said he, his own voice low and of a kindness it
could assume at times. "You must not--you must not yield to this, I
say. Shake off this melancholy which so obsesses you. I know whence it
comes--your father gave it you, and you are not to blame; but you have
more than your father's strength to aid you. And you have me, your
friend, who can understand."

Lewis only turned on him an eye so full of anguish as caused the older
man to knit his brow in deep concern.

"What is it, Merne?" he demanded. "Tell me. Ah, you cannot tell? I
know! 'Tis the old melancholy, and something more, Merne, my boy. Tell
me--ah, yes, it is a woman!"

The young man did not speak.

"I have often told all my young friends," said Mr. Jefferson slowly,
after a time, "that they should marry not later than twenty-three--it
is wrong to cheat the years of life--and you approach thirty now, my
son. Why linger? Listen to me. No young man may work at his best and
have a woman's face in his desk to haunt him. That will not do. We all
have handicap enough without that."

But still Meriwether could only look into the face of his superior.

"I know very well, my son," the President continued. "I know it all.
Put her out of your heart, my boy. Would you shame yourself--and
her--and me?"

"No! Never would I do that, Mr. Jefferson, believe me. But now I must
beg of you--please, sir, let me go soon--let it be at once!"

The older man stood looking at him for a tim