He wished Mrs. Lee had asked
him home to dinner; but Mrs. Lee had gone to bed with a
headache. He should not see her again for a week. Then his mind
turned back upon their morning at Mount Vernon, and bethinking
himself of Mrs. Sam Baker, he took a sheet of note-paper, and
wrote a line to Wilson Keen, Esq., at Georgetown, requesting him
to call, if possible, the next morning towards one o'clock at the
Senator's rooms on a matter of business. Wilson Keen was chief of
the Secret Service Bureau in the Treasury Department, and, as the
depositary of all secrets, was often called upon for assistance
which he was very good-natured in furnishing to senators,
especially if they were likely to be Secretaries of the Treasury.
This note despatched, Mr. Ratcliffe fell back into his reflective
mood, which led him apparently into still lower depths of
discontent until, with a muttered oath, he swore he could "stand no
more of this," and, suddenly rising, he informed his visitors that he
was sorry to leave them, but he felt rather poorly and was going to
bed; and to bed he went, while his guests departed, each as his
business or desires might point him, some to drink whiskey and
some to repose.
On Sunday morning Mr. Ratcliffe, as usual, went to church. He
always attended morning service--at the Methodist Episcopal
Church--not wholly on the ground of religious conviction, but
because a large number of his constituents were church-going
people and he would not willingly shock their principles so long as
he needed their votes.
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