I have received word from Paris that Mr. Broughton, one of the companions of Captain Vancouver, went up the Columbia River one hundred miles in December, 1792. He stopped at a point he named Vancouver. Here the river Columbia is still a quarter of a mile wide. From this point Mount Hood is seen about twenty leagues distant, which is probably a dependency of the Stony Mountains. Accept my affectionate salutations.
This was the last word Meriwether Lewis received from his chief. As the latter finished it, he sat looking out of the window toward that West which meant so much to him.
He did not at first note the interruption of his reverie. Long ago he had made public his announcement that the time of Thomas Jefferson belonged to the public, and that he might be seen at any time by any man. He hesitated now but a moment, therefore, when old Henry, his faithful black, threw open the door and stated simply that there was "a lady wantin' to see Mistah Jeffahson."
"Who is she, Henry?" inquired the President of the United States mildly. "I am somewhat busy today."
"'Tain't no diff'rence, she say--she sho'ly want see Mistah Jeffahson."
The tired old man smiled and shrugged his shoulders. A moment later the persistent caller was ushered into the office of the nation's chief executive. He rose courteously to meet her.
It was Theodosia Alston, whom he had known from her childhood. Mr. Jefferson greeted her with his hand outstretched, and, her arm still in his, led her to a seat.
"My dear," said he, "you will pardon our confusion here, I am sure. There are many matters----"
"I know it is an intrusion, Mr. Jefferson," began Theodosia Alston again, her face flushing swiftly. "But you are so good, so kind, so great in your patience that we all take advantage of you. And yet you are so tired," she added impulsively, as she caught sight of his haggard face.
"I was not so fortunate as to find time for sleep last night." He smiled again with humorous, half twisted mouth.
"Nor was I."
"Tut, tut! No, no, my dear, that sort of thing will not do." He looked at her in silence for some time. "Perhaps, my dear," said he at last, "you come regarding Captain Lewis?"
"How did you know?" she exclaimed, startled.
"Why should I not know?" He pushed his chair so close that he might lay a hand upon her arm. "Listen, Theo, my child. I am an old man, and I am your friend, and his also. I had need to be very blind had I not known long ago what I did know. I am, perhaps, the only confidant of Captain Lewis, and I repose in him confidences that I would venture to no other man; but he is not the sort to speak of such matters. It is only by virtue of exceptional circumstances, my dear, that I know the story of you two."