No regrets, no weak reflections for this man with a warrior's weapon on his arm--where no other burden might lie in all his years. His were to be the comforts of the trail, the rude associations with common men, the terrors of the desert and the mountain; his fireside only that of the camp. Yet he advanced to his future steadily, his head high, his eye on ahead--a splendid figure of a man.
He did not at first hear the gallop of hoofs on the street behind him as at last, a mile or more from the White House gate, he turned toward the river front. He was looking at the dull flood of the Potomac, now visible below him; but he paused, something appealing to the strange sixth sense of the hunter, and turned.
A rider, a mounted servant, was beckoning to him. Behind the horseman, driven at a stiff gait, came a carriage which seemed to have but a single occupant. Captain Lewis halted, gazed, then hastened forward, hat in his hand.
"Mrs. Alston!" he exclaimed, as the carriage came up. "Why are you here? Is there any news?"
"Yes, else I could not have come."
"But why have you come? Tell me!"
He motioned the outrider aside, sprang into the vehicle and told the driver to draw a little apart from the more public street. Here he caught up the reins himself, and, ordering the driver to join the footman at the edge of the roadway they had left, turned to the woman at his side.
"Pardon me," said he, and his voice was cold; "I thought I had cut all ties."
"Knit them again for my sake, then, Meriwether Lewis! I have brought you a summons to return."
"A summons? From whom?"
"My father--Mr. Merry--Señor Yrujo. They were at our home all night. We could not--they could not--I could not--bear to see you sacrifice yourself. This expedition can only fail! I implore you not to go upon it! Do not let your man's pride drive you!"
She was excited, half sobbing.
"It does drive me, indeed," said he simply. "I am under orders--I am the leader of this expedition of my government. I do not understand----"
"At this hour--on this errand--only one motive could have brought me! It is your interest. Oh, it is not for myself--it is for your future."
"Why did you come thus, unattended? There is something you are concealing. Tell me!"
"Ah, you are harsh--you have no sympathy, no compassion, no gratitude! But listen, and I will tell you. My father, Mr. Merry, the Spanish minister, are all men of affairs. They have watched the planning of this expedition. Why fly in the face of prophecy and of Providence? That is what my father says. He says that country can never be of benefit to our Union--that no new States can be made from it. He says the people will pass down the Mississippi River, but not beyond it; that it is the natural line of our expansion--that men who are actual settlers are bound not into the unknown West, but into the well-known South. He begs of you to follow the course of events, and not to fly in the face of Providence."