he was to have gone aboard the next day, after spending the night on Long Island, but the pilot boat did not come. On June 3, he was at the house of Mr. Kemble in New Jersey. On June 6, he was back in New York with the Swartwouts. Whenever they could do so in safety, Miss Edwards and her "brother" contrived to meet, and there seem to have been several false partings. And Theodosia was in despair-"the moment of separation," on one occasion, "was embittered by tears and reproaches." Reproaches, from Theodosia.

In the midst of it all she took his instructions, she received his messages, she arranged to take charge of his affairs and of his precious papers. "Put all my papers and manuscript book into some one box (you may get one made for the purpose if you please) and leave it with Mrs. P. keeping yourself the key. Tell her .. that they are yours. Willie"-the secretary was still there "will do the labor for you.' "And when he had gone she was to give it out publicly that Colonel Burr had passed through a certain place on his way to Canada “accompanied by one Frenchman and two Americans or Englishmen. On the same day Mrs. Alston passed on her way to Saratoga for her health (or some such thing)." It was all very mysterious, and abounding in cipher names and blanks. And then, "my dear creature, I regret sorely that we cannot meet this evening; but somehow and somewhere tomorrow absolutely we will. Perfect arrangements are made for the grand Hegira, and all seems well. Sleep; refresh and strengthen yourself."

Theodosia gave him all her time, all her energy,

all her attention, all her desperate affection during those wretched days, those anxious nights of clandestine and often deferred meetings. And finally, on June 6, "Ten P.M. met T. At eleven A.M."

June 7-"went on board pilot boat." They had parted for the last time. On June 8 there was no wind. On June 9, "at seven P.M. set sail."

"This is the commencement of my 26th year," Mary Ann Edwards wrote to H. E. Edwards on June 21, from Ballston Spa-where Mrs. Constable was being so friendly because little "Gampy" had "obtained [her] good opinion and won a place in [her] heart.' Miss Edwards had been alarmed, "after your departure, my dear brother with a report that you had been taken by the French; but as it was immediately contradicted, I yielded to my belief in the superiority of the English at sea, and to my reliance in the protection of your friend Neptune. Never were hopes brighter than mine. To look on the gloomy side would be death to me, and without reserve I abandon myself to all the gay security of a sanguine hope.

"Do not imagine that my spirits are low, or that I am so weak as to wish you back. Do me more justice. I am cheerful always, and if my feelings ever amount to great gayety, your present voyage is the source of it."

The gay security of a sanguine hope-a magnificent pretense for Theodosia, who had known for some years that she was dying; the superb artifice of a matchless courage.

CHAPTER I

ALIASES

I

THE next four years were to be, in many ways, the most extraordinary in a life of many extraordinary moments; and the account of their passage spread upon the pages of the journal kept by Colonel Burr in the form, frequently, of imaginary conversations with Theodosia is an astonishing record of vicissitudes and pleasures, of desperate dilemmas and shameless subterfuges, of public pretences and private depravities. And at the same time of amazing fortitude, of unconquerable tenacity, of immeasurable spirit.

That during these years one is to see him at his worst, is undeniable; that occasionally, for a laugh flung at adversity, for a splendid gesture in the face of ruin, he is to compel an almost incredulous admiration, is also incontestable; that a less guarded, a more spontaneously genuine revelation than ever before of his mysterious personality-a truer conception of the processes of his mind and of the complexities of his character-are to be obtained, will perhaps become apparent. One is to see great