Free MY THEODOSIA by Anya Seton Page B

occupation. With different mentalities one used differing tactics. In this case he had been quite right to feel that finesse was unnecessary, a waste of time. The ground had been well, though unconsciously, prepared by Theodosia.
    He refilled Joseph's brandy glass. 'A toast to my daughter!'
    Both men rose and drank. Joseph frowned, reverting to a previous thought.
    'But she doesn't like me, Colonel Burr. She avoids me.'
    'Pish, my dear fellow! Women are like that. You must go slowly. Recite poetry to her; they love it. Sing duets with her, give her posies, gaze at her with your heart in your eyes—but respectfully. Don't frighten her.'
    Joseph looked blank, and Aaron went on. 'Do exactly as I say, and you will see. Defer to her opinion. Forgive me for saying so, but you are a thought arrogant in your manner. Women like compliments and pretty speeches.'
    Joseph considered each of these recommendations and finally nodded. 'I will endeavor to do as you suggest.'
    Aaron clapped him on the shoulder.'Tis a pity he's so deadly serious, he thought. Theo must learn to liven him up a bit. Yet he felt for his intended son-in-law a certain contemptuous affection, for already Joseph was become a part of the Burrs.
    After a few days Theo admitted to herself that Mr. Alston improved on acquaintance, and she relaxed her hostility. She began by treating him with frosty dignity which gradually thawed to tolerance. For Joseph in turn treated her as though she were one of Baron Stiegel's blown-glass figurines and might break at a touch. They never referred to the scene in the garden, and its memory dimmed.
    Joseph, having had it pointed out to him, realized that he was very much in love with her, but his native indolence combined with nervousness to prevent him from making any specific overtures as yet.
    The summer days passed agreeably and Theo grew used to his constant companionship. They rode much together over the sand hills and through the woods of Manhattan Island.
Joseph rode well, and felt at his best on a horse where his bulk and awkwardness were less noticeable.
    He could not recite poetry, nor yet sing duets with Theo, but he could and did listen. Though music bored him, he hid it with surprising canniness, and kept himself awake while Theo played by watching the roundness of her white arms, or the enchanting tilt of her chin as she struggled through Bach's inventions or something she called a sonata by a young German named Beethoven.
    Natalie kept out of the way. It did not take her long to comprehend the situation, and though she thought the young planter 'un peu farouche' and rather dull, on the whole she approved Papa Burr's plan. It was only natural that he should select his son-in-law in the French manner, and, judging by all the evidence, M. Alston was a most eligible parti.
    In the kitchen the servants laid bets on the wedding date, and in New York drawing-rooms the match was discussed with interest.
    Only Theodosia would not see.
    It was on the first of August that Joseph proposed quite suddenly, having screwed up his courage for days. Mindful of Aaron's advice, he had tried to induce Theo to accompany him to some romantic spot. But by tacit consent they both avoided the garden, and his invention was low in the evening, so that his moment came in the full glare of noonday sun, outside the stables where they had dismounted.
    Theo, frankly hungry, was making for the springhouse to get
A
glass of chilled milk, when he checked her by a clutch at her silk-covered arm.
    She turned in surprise.
    His face was red from heat and the exertion of their ride. His clustering dark curls clung damply to his forehead.
    'Miss Burr—Theo, I have something to say to you,' he panted.
    'Won't it keep until we get to the house?' she asked, amused.
    'No!' he shouted, in a burst of desperation. 'You must listen to me now.'
    'Softly—the servants,' she laughed, but she had a foreboding.
    He propelled her down the path around the comer of the dairy