He and Jacqueline were lovers yet.

At the sight of each other the delicate fire ran through their veins; in absence the mind felt along the wall and dreamed of the gardens within.
If the woman who had given all was the more constant lover; if the man, while his passion sweetened all his life, yet bowed before his great idol and fought and slaved for Power, it was according to the nature of the two, and there was perhaps no help.
He left the Capitol Square and went on toward the house he had retaken for the second winter in Richmond.

Few were afoot, though now and then a sleigh went by.

Rand's mind as he walked was busy, not with the debate of to-morrow or the visitor of to-night, the Mathews trial or Tom Mocket's puerile schemes, but with the letter in the Gazette signed "Aurelius." It had been an attack, able beyond the common, certainly not upon Lewis Rand, but upon the party which, in the eyes of the generality, he yet most markedly represented.

In the inflamed condition of public sentiment such attacks were of weekly occurrence; the wise man was he who put them by unmoved.