He is about to, when the question takes him by surprise. He half-laughs; his eyes are blurred with tears. "Oh," he says. "Oh. I didn't want you to pity me, was all. I thought I could bear anything but pity." A breath. The new presence on his ring finger astonishes him. It seems to make an electric connection all the way to his heart. "He is a doctor, and so I told him true. I was born in December, 1806." This would make him nineteen.
Though it does give rise to a new mystery: where was he, between July, 1804, and his conception? Was his soul in another child, one that never was old enough for him to remember? Was he in Heaven? Hell? Some aetheric medium between them? Did he choose to return?
It will be Hosack's disappointment, Alexander thinks, that he doesn't know.
Alexander pulls him up. "Come here," he says, "come here and kiss me." Though it's really Alexander who kisses first, who kisses like claiming, because he is giddy and happy and because he thinks it would make Burr happy to be claimed too.
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Though it does give rise to a new mystery: where was he, between July, 1804, and his conception? Was his soul in another child, one that never was old enough for him to remember? Was he in Heaven? Hell? Some aetheric medium between them? Did he choose to return?
It will be Hosack's disappointment, Alexander thinks, that he doesn't know.
Alexander pulls him up. "Come here," he says, "come here and kiss me." Though it's really Alexander who kisses first, who kisses like claiming, because he is giddy and happy and because he thinks it would make Burr happy to be claimed too.