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diff --git a/14001-0.txt b/14001-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8249945 --- /dev/null +++ b/14001-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10497 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14001 *** + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 14001-h.htm or 14001-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/0/0/14001/14001-h/14001-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/4/0/0/14001/14001-h.zip) + + + + + +THE MISSISSIPPI BUBBLE + +How the Star of Good Fortune Rose and Set and Rose Again, by a Woman's +Grace, for One John Law of Lauriston + +A Novel by + +EMERSON HOUGH + +The Illustrations by Henry Hutt + +1902 + + + + + + + +[Illustration: (Frontispiece)] + + + + +TO +L.C.H. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +BOOK I + +CHAPTER + + I THE RETURNED TRAVELER + II AT SADLER'S WELLS + III JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON + IV THE POINT OF HONOR + V DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW + VI THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW + VII TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING +VIII CATHARINE KNOLLYS + IX IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL + X THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL + XI AS CHANCE DECREED + XII FOR FELONY +XIII THE MESSAGE + XIV PRISONERS + XV IF THERE WERE NEED + XVI THE ESCAPE +XVII WHITHER + + +BOOK II + + I THE DOOR OF THE WEST + II THE STORM + III AU LARGE + IV THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS + V MESSASEBE + VI MAIZE + VII THE BRINK OF CHANGE +VIII TOUS SAUVAGES + IX THE DREAM + X BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD + XI THE IROQUOIS + XII PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS +XIII THE SACRIFICE + XIV THE EMBASSY + XV THE GREAT PEACE + + +BOOK III + + I THE GRAND MONARQUE + II EVER SAID SHE NAY + III SEARCH THOU MY HEART + IV THE REGENT'S PROMISE + V A DAY OF MIRACLES + VI THE GREATEST NEED + VII THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT +VIII THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT + IX THE NEWS + X MASTER AND MAN + XI THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE + XII THAT WHICH REMAINED +XIII THE QUALITY OF MERCY + + + + +BOOK I + +ENGLAND + + +CHAPTER I + +THE RETURNED TRAVELER + + +"Gentlemen, this is America!" + +The speaker cast upon the cloth-covered table a singular object, whose +like none of those present had ever seen. They gathered about and bent +over it curiously. + +"This is that America," the speaker repeated. "Here you have it, +barbaric, wonderful, abounding!" + +With sudden gesture he swept his hand among the gold coin that lay on +the gaming table. He thrust into the mouth of the object before him a +handful of louis d'or and English sovereigns. "There is your America," +said he. "It runs over with gold. No man may tell its richness. Its +beauty you can not imagine." + +"Faith," said Sir Arthur Pembroke, bending over the table with glass in +eye, "if the ladies of that land have feet for this sort of shoon, +methinks we might well emigrate. Take you the money of it. For me, I +would see the dame could wear such shoe as this." + +One after another this company of young Englishmen, hard players, hard +drinkers, gathered about the table and bent over to examine the little +shoe. It was an Indian moccasin, cut after the fashion of the Abenakis, +from the skin of the wild buck, fashioned large and full for the spread +of the foot, covered deep with the stained quills of the porcupine, and +dotted here and there with the precious beads which, to the maker, had +more worth than any gold. A little flap came up for cover to the ankle, +and a thong fell from its upper edge. It was the ancient foot-covering +of the red race of America, made for the slight but effectual protection +of the foot, while giving perfect freedom to the tread of the wearer. +Light, dainty and graceful, its size was much less than that of the +average woman's shoe of that time and place. + +"Bah! Pembroke," said Castleton, pushing up the shade above his eyes +till it rested on his forehead, "'tis a child's shoe." + +"Not so," said the first speaker. "I give you my word 'tis the moccasin +of my sweetheart, a princess in her own right, who waits my coming on +the Ottawa. And so far from the shoe being too small, I say as a +gentleman that she not only wore it so, but in addition used somewhat +of grass therein in place of hose." + +The earnestness of this speech in no wise prevented the peal of laughter +that followed. + +"There you have it, Pembroke," cried Castleton. "Would you move to a +land where princesses use hay for hosiery?" + +"'Tis curious done," said Pembroke, musingly, "none the less." + +"And done by her own hand," said the owner of the shoe, with a certain +proprietary pride. + +Again the laughter broke out. "Do your princesses engage in shoemaking?" +asked a third gamester as he pushed into the ring. "Sure it must be a +rare land. Prithee, what doth the king in handicraft? Doth he take to +saddlery, or, perhaps, smithing?" + +"Have done thy jests, Wilson," cried Pembroke. "Mayhap there is somewhat +to be learned here of this New World and of our dear cousins, the +French. Go on, tell us, Monsieur du Mesne--as I think you call yourself, +sir?--tell us more of your new country of ice and snow, of princesses +and little shoes." + +The original speaker went a bit sullen, what with his wine and the jests +of his companions. "I'll tell ye naught," said he. "Go see for +yourselves, by leave of Louis." + +"Come now," said Pembroke, conciliatingly. "We'll all admit our +ignorance. 'Tis little we know of our own province of Virginia, save +that Virginia is a land of poverty and tobacco. Wealth--faith, if ye +have wealth in your end of the continent, 'tis time we English fought ye +for it." + +"Methinks you English are having enough to do here close at home," +sneered Du Mesne. "I have heard somewhat of Steinkirk, and how ye ran +from the half-dressed gentlemen of France." + +Dark looks followed this bold speech, which cut but too closely to the +quick of English pride. Pembroke quelled the incipient outcry with +calmer speech. + +"Peace, friends," said he. "'Tis not arms we argue here, after all. We +are but students at the feet of Monsieur du Mesne, who hath returned +from foreign parts. Prithee, sir, tell us more." + +"Tell ye more--and if I did, would ye believe it? What if I tell ye of +great rivers far to the west of the Ottawa; of races as strange to my +princess's people as we are to them; of streams whose sands run in gold, +where diamonds and sapphires are to be picked up as ye like? If I told +ye, would ye believe?" + +The martial hearts and adventurous souls of the circle about him began +to show in the heightened color and closer crowding of the young men to +the table. Silence fell upon the group. + +"Ye know nothing, in this old rotten world, of what there is yet to be +found in America," cried Du Mesne. "For myself, I have been no farther +than the great falls of the Ontoneagrea--a mere trifle of a cataract, +gentlemen, into which ye might pitch your tallest English cathedral and +sink it beyond its pinnacle with ease. Yet I have spoke with the holy +fathers who have journeyed far to the westward, even to the vast +Messasebe, which is well known to run into the China sea upon some +far-off coast not yet well charted. I have also read the story of +Sagean, who was far to the west of that mighty river. Did not the latter +see and pursue and kill in fair fight the giant unicorn, fabled of +Scripture? Is not that animal known to be a creature of the East, and +may we not, therefore, be advised that this new country takes hold upon +the storied lands of the East? Why, this holy friar with whom I spoke, +fresh back from his voyaging to the cold upper ways of the Northern +tribes, who live beyond the far-off channel at Michilimackinac--did he +not tell of a river of the name of the Blue Earth, and did he not +himself see turquoises and diamonds and emeralds taken in handfuls from +this same blue earth? Ah, bah! gentlemen, Europe for you if ye like, but +for me, back I go, so soon as I may get proper passage and a connection +which will warrant me the voyage. Back I go to Canada, to America, to +the woods and streams. I would see again my ancient Du L'hut, and my +comrade Pierre Noir, and Tête Gris, the trapper from the Mistasing--free +traders all. Life is there for the living, my comrades. This Old World, +small and outworn, no more of it for me." + +"And why came you back to this little Old World of ours, an you loved +the New World so much?" asked the cynical voice of him who had been +called Wilson. + +"By the body of God!" cried Du Mesne, "think ye I came of my own free +will? Look here, and find your reason." He stripped back the opening of +his doublet and under waistcoat, and showed upon his broad shoulder the +scar of a red tri-point, deep and livid upon his flesh. "Look! There is +the fleur-de-lis of France. That is why I came. I have rowed in the +galleys, me--me a free man, a man of the woods of New France!" + +Murmurs of concern passed among the little group. Castleton rose from +his chair and leaned with his hands upon the table, gazing now at the +face and now at the bared shoulder of this stranger, who had by chance +become a member of their nightly party. + +"I have not been in London a fortnight since my escape," said the man +with the brand. "I was none the less once a good servant of Louis in New +France, for that I found many a new tribe and many a bale of furs that +else had never come to the Mountain for the robbery of the lying +officers who claim the robe of Louis. I was a soldier for the king as +well as a traveler of the forest. Was I not with the Le Moynes and the +band that crossed the icy North and destroyed your robbing English fur +posts on the Bay of Hudson? I fought there and helped blow down your +barriers. I packed my own robe on my back, and walked for the king, till +the _raquette_ thongs cut my ankles to the bone. For what? When I came +back to the settlements at Quebec I was seized for a _coureur de bois_, +a free trader. I was herded like a criminal into a French ship, sent +over seas to a French prison, branded with a French iron, and set like a +brute to pull without reason at a bar of wood in the king's galleys--the +king's hell!" + +"And yet you are a Frenchman," sneered Wilson. + +"Yet am I not a Frenchman," cried the other. "Nor am I an Englishman. I +am no man of a world of galleys and brands. I am a man of America!" + +"'Tis true what he says," spoke Pembroke. "'Tis said the minister of +Louis was feared to keep these men in the galleys, lest their fellows in +New France should become too bitter, and should join the savages in +their inroads on the starving settlements of Quebec and Montréal." + +"True," exclaimed Du Mesne. "The _coureurs_ care naught for the law and +little for the king. As for a ruler, we have discovered that a man makes +a most excellent sovereign for himself." + +"And excellent said," cried Castleton. + +"None of ye know the West," went on the _coureur_. "Your Virginia, we +know well of it--a collection of beggars, prostitutes and thieves. Your +New England--a lot of cod-fishing, starving snivelers, who are most +concerned how to keep life in their bodies from year to year. New France +herself, sitting ever on the edge of an icy death, with naught but +bickerings at Quebec and naught but reluctant compliance from +Paris--what hath she to hope? I tell ye, gentlemen, 'tis beyond, in the +land of the Messasebe, where I shall for my part seek out my home; and +no man shall set iron on my soul again." + +He spoke bitterly. The group about him, half amused, half cynical and +all ignorant, as were their kind at this time of the reign of William, +were none the less impressed and thoughtful. Yet once more the sneering +voice of Wilson broke in. + +"A strange land, my friend," said he, "monstrous strange. Your unicorns +are great, and your women are little. Methinks to give thy tale +proportion thou shouldst have shown shoon somewhat larger." + +"Peace! Beau," said Castleton, quickly. "As for the size of the human +foot--gad! I'll lay a roll of louis d'or that there's one dame here in +London town can wear this slipper of New France." + +"Done!" cried Wilson. "Name the one." + +"None other than the pretty Lawrence whom thou hast had under thine +ancient wing for the past two seasons." + +The face of Wilson gathered into a sudden frown at this speech. "What +doth it matter"--he began. + +"Have done, fellows!" cried Pembroke with some asperity. "Lay wagers +more fit at best, and let us have no more of this thumb-biting. Gad! the +first we know, we'll be up for fighting among ourselves, and we all know +how the new court doth look on that." + +"Come away," laughed Castleton, gaily. "I'm for a pint of ale and an +apple; and then beware! 'Tis always my fortune, when I come to this +country drink, to win like a very countryman. I need revenge upon Lady +Betty and her lap-dog. I've lost since ever I saw them last." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +AT SADLER'S WELLS + + +Sadler's Wells, on this mild and cheery spring morning, was a scene of +fashion and of folly. Hither came the élite of London, after the custom +of the day, to seek remedy in the reputed qualities of the springs for +the weariness and lassitude resultant upon the long season of polite +dissipations which society demanded of her votaries. Bewigged dandies, +their long coats of colors well displayed as they strutted about in the +open, paid court there, as they did within the city gates, to the +powdered and painted beauties who sat in their couches waiting for their +servants to bring out to them the draft of which they craved healing for +crow's-feet and hollow eyes. Here and there traveling merchants called +their wares, jugglers spread their carpets, bear dancers gave their +little spectacles, and jockeys conferred as to the merits of horse or +hound. Hawk-nosed Jews passed among the vehicles, cursed or kicked by +the young gallants who stood about, hat in hand, at the steps of their +idols' carriages. + +"Buy my silks, pretty lady, buy my silks! Fresh from the Turkey walk on +the Exchange, and cheaper than you can buy their like in all the +city--buy my silks, lady!" Thus the peddler with his little pack of +finery. + +"My philter, lady," cried the gipsy woman, who had left her donkey cart +outside the line. "My philter! 'Twill keep-a your eyes bright and your +cheeks red for ay. Secret of the Pharaohs, lady; and but a shilling!" + +"Have ye a parrot, ma'am? Have ye never a parrot to keep ye free and +give ye laughter every hour? Buy my parrot, lady. Just from the Gold +Coast. He'll talk ye Spanish, Flemish or good city tongue. Buy my parrot +at ten crowns, and so cheap, lady!" So spoke the ear-ringed sailor, who +might never have seen a salter water than the Thames. + +"Powder-puffs for the face, lady," whispered a lean and weazen-faced +hawker, slipping among the crowd with secrecy. "See my puff, made from +the foot of English hares. Rubs out all wrinkles, lady, and keeps ye +young as when ye were a lass. But a shilling, a shilling. See!" And with +the pretense of secrecy the seller would sidle up to a carriage of some +dame, slip to her the hare's foot and take the shilling with an air as +though no one could see what none could fail to notice. + +Above these mingled cries of the hangers-on of this crowd of nobility +and gentles rose the blare of crude music, and cries far off and +confused. Above it all shone the May sun, brighter here than lower +toward the Thames. In the edge of London town it was, all this little +pageant, and from the residence squares below and far to the westward +came the carriages and the riders, gathering at the spot which for the +hour was the designated rendezvous of capricious fashion. No matter if +the tower at the drinking curb was crowded, so that inmates of the +coaches could not find way among the others. There was at least magic in +the morning, even if one might not drink at the chalybeate spring. +Cheeks did indeed grow rosy, and eyes brightened under the challenge not +only of the dawn but of the ardent eyes that gazed impertinently bold or +reproachfully imploring. + +Far-reaching was the line of the gentility, to whose flanks clung the +rabble of trade. Back upon the white road came yet other carriages, +saluted by those departing. Low hedges of English green reached out into +the distance, blending ultimately at the edge of the pleasant sky. Merry +enough it was, and gladsome, this spring day; for be sure the really ill +did not brave the long morning ride to test the virtue of the waters of +Sadler's Wells. It was for the most part the young, the lively, the +full-blooded, perhaps the wearied, but none the less the vital and +stirring natures which met in the decreed assemblage. + +Back of Sadler's little court the country came creeping close up to the +town. There were fields not so far away on these long highways. +Wandering and rambling roads ran off to the westward and to the north, +leading toward the straight old Roman road which once upon a time ran +down to London town. Ill-kept enough were some of the lanes, with their +hedges and shrubs overhanging the highways, if such the paths could be +called which came braiding down toward the south. One needed not to go +far outward beyond Sadler's Wells of a night-time to find adventure, or +to lose a purse. + +It was on one of these less crowded highways that there was this morning +enacted a curious little drama. The sun was still young and not too +strong for comfort, and as it rose back of the square of Sadler's it +cast a shadow from a hedge which ran angling toward the southeast. Its +rays, therefore, did not disturb the slumbers of two young men who were +lying beneath the shelter of the hedge. Strange enough must have been +the conclusions of the sun could it have looked over the barrier and +peered into the faces of these youths. Evidently they were of good +breeding and some station, albeit their garb was not of the latest +fashion. The gray hose and the clumsy shoes plainly bespoke some +northern residence. The wig of each lacked the latest turn, perhaps the +collar of the coat was not all it should have been. There was but one +coat visible, for the other, rolled up as a pillow, served to support +the heads of both. The elder of the two was the one who had sacrificed +his covering. The other was more restless in his attitude, and though +thus the warmer for a coat, was more in need of comfort. A white bandage +covered his wrist, and the linen was stained red. Yet the two slept on, +well into the morn, well into the rout of Sadler's Wells. Evidently they +were weary. + +The elder man was the taller of the two; as he lay on the bank beneath +the hedge, he might even in that posture have been seen to own a figure +of great strength and beauty. His face, bold of outline, with well +curved, wide jaw and strong cheek bones, was shaded by the tangled mat +of his wig, tousled in his sleep. His hands, long and graceful, lay idly +at his side, though one rested lightly on the hilt of the sword which +lay near him. The ruffles of his shirt were torn, and, indeed, had +almost disappeared. By study one might have recognized them in the +bandage about the hand of the other. Somewhat disheveled was this +youth, yet his young, strong body, slender and shapely, seemed even in +its rest strangely full of power and confidence. + +The younger man was in some fashion an epitome of the other, and it had +needed little argument to show the two were brothers. But why should two +brothers, well-clad and apparently well-to-do, probably brothers from a +country far to the north, be thus lying like common vagabonds beneath an +English hedge? + +Far down the roadway there rose a cloud of dust, which came steadily +nearer, following the only vehicle in sight, probably the only one which +had passed that morning. As this little dust-cloud came slowly nearer it +might have been seen to rise from the wheels of a richly-built and +well-appointed coach. Four dark horses obeyed the reins handled by a +solemn-visaged lackey on the box, and there was a goodly footman at the +back. Within the coach were two passengers such as might have set +Sadler's Wells by the ears. They sat on the same seat, as equals, and +their heads lay close together, as confidantes. The tongues of both ran +fast and free. Long gloves covered the arms of these beauties, and their +costumes showed them to be of station. The crinoline of the two filled +all the body of the ample coach from seat to seat, and the folds of +their figured muslins, flowing out over this ample outline, gave to the +face of each a daintiness of contour and feature which was not ill +relieved by the high head-dress of ribbons and bepowdered hair. Of the +two ladies, one, even in despite of her crinoline, might have been seen +to be of noble and queenly figure; the towering head-dress did not fully +disguise the wealth of red-bronze hair. Tall and well-rounded, vigorous +and young, not yet twenty, adored by many suitors, the Lady Catharine +Knollys had rarely looked better than she did this morning as she drove +out to Sadler's, for Providence alone knew what fault of a superb vital +energy. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, and every gesture betokened +rather the grand young creature that she was than the valetudinarian +going forth for healing. Her cheek, turned now and again, showed a +clear-cut and untouched soundness that meant naught but health. It +showed also the one blemish upon a beauty which was toasted in the court +as faultless. Upon the left cheek there was a _mouche_, excessive in its +size. Strangers might have commented on it. Really it covered a +deep-stained birth-mark, the one blur upon a peerless beauty. Yet even +this might be forgotten, as it was now. + +The companion of the Lady Catharine in her coach was a young woman, +scarce so tall and more slender. The heavy hoop concealed much of the +grace of figure which was her portion, but the poise of the upper body, +free from the seat-back and erect with youthful strength as yet +unspared, showed easily that here, too, was but an indifferent subject +for Sadler's. Dark, where her companion was fair, and with the glossy +texture of her own somber locks showing in the individual roll which ran +back into the absurd _fontange_ of false hair and falser powder, Mary +Connynge made good foil for her bosom friend; though honesty must admit +that neither had yet much concern for foils, since both had their full +meed of gallants. Much seen together, they were commonly known, as the +Morning and Eve, sometimes as Aurora and Eve. Never did daughter of the +original Eve have deeper feminine guile than Mary Connynge. Soft of +speech--as her friend, the Lady Catharine, was impulsive,--slow, suave, +amber-eyed and innocent of visage, this young English woman, with no +dower save that of beauty and of wit, had not failed of a sensation at +the capital whither she had come as guest of the Lady Catharine. Three +captains and a squire, to say nothing of a gouty colonel, had already +fallen victims, and had heard their fate in her low, soft tones, which +could whisper a fashionable oath in the accent of a hymn, and say "no" +so sweetly that one could only beg to hear the word again. It was +perhaps of some such incident that these two young maids of old London +conversed as they trundled slowly out toward the suburb of the city. + +"'Twould have killed you, Lady Kitty; sure 'twould have been your end to +hear him speak! He walked the floor upon his knees, and clasped his +hands, and followed me about like a dog in a spectacle. Lord! but I +feared he would have thrown over the tabouret with his great feet. And +help me, if I think not he had tears in his eyes!" + +"My friend," said Lady Kitty, solemnly, "you must have better care of +your conduct. I'll not have my father's old friend abused in his own +house." At which they both burst into laughter. Youth, the blithely +cruel, had its own way in this old coach upon the ancient dusty road, as +it has ever had. + +But now serious affairs gained the attention of these two fairs. "Tell +me, sweetheart," said Lady Catharine, "what think you of the fancy of my +new dresser? He insists ever that the mode in Paris favors a deep bow, +placed high upon the left side of the 'tower.' Montespan, of the French +court, is said to have given the fashion. She hurried at her toilet, and +placed the bow there for fault of better care. Hence, so must we if we +are to live in town. So says my new hair-dresser from Paris. 'Tis to +Paris we must go for the modes." + +"I am not so sure," began Mary Connynge, "as to this arrangement. Now I +am much disposed to believe--" but what she was disposed to believe at +that time was not said, then or ever afterward, for at that moment there +happened matters which ended their little talk; matters which divided +their two lives, and which, in the end, drove them as far apart as two +continents could carry them. + +"O Gemini!" called out Mary Connynge, as the coachman for a moment +slackened his pace. "Look! We shall be robbed!" + +The driver irresolutely pulled up his horses. From under the shade of +the hedge there arose two men, of whom the taller now stood erect and +came toward the carriage. + +"'Tis no robber," said Lady Catharine Knollys, her eyes fastened on the +tall figure which came forward. + +"Save us," said Mary Connynge, "what a pretty man!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +JOHN LAW OF LAURISTON + + +Unconsciously the coachman obeyed the unvoiced command of this man, who +stepped out from the shelter of the hedge. Travel-stained, just awakened +from sleep, disheveled, with dress disordered, there was none the less +abundant boldness in his mien as he came forward, yet withal the grace +and deference of the courtier. It was a good figure he made as he +stepped down from the bank and came forward, hat in hand, the sun, now +rising to the top of the hedge, lighting up his face and showing his +bold profile, his open and straight blue eye. + +"Ladies," he said, as he reached the road, "I crave your pardon humbly. +This, I think, is the coach of my Lord, the Earl of Banbury. Mayhap this +is the Lady Catharine Knollys to whom I speak?" + +The lady addressed still gazed at him, though she drew up with dignity. + +"You have quite the advantage of us," said she. She glanced uneasily at +the coachman, but the order to go forward did not quite leave her lips. + +"I am not aware--I do not know--," she began, afraid of her adventure +now it had come, after the way of all dreaming maids who prate of men +and conquests. + +"I should be dull of eye did I not see the Knollys arms," said the +stranger, smiling and bowing low. "And I should be ill advised of the +families of England did I not know that the daughter of Knollys, the +sister of the Earl of Banbury, is the Lady Catharine, and most charming +also. This I might say, though 'tis true I never was in London or in +England until now." + +The speech, given with all respectfulness, did not fail of flattery. +Again the order to drive on remained unspoken. This speaker, whose foot +was now close to the carriage step, and whose head, gravely bowed as he +saluted the occupants of the vehicle, presented so striking a type of +manly attractiveness, even that first moment cast some spell upon the +woman whom he sought to interest. The eyes of the Lady Catharine Knollys +did not turn from him. As though it were another person, she heard +herself murmur, "And you, sir?" + +"I am John Law of Lauriston, Scotland, Madam, and entirely at your +service. That is my brother Will, yonder by the bank." He smiled, and +the younger man came forward, hesitatingly, and not with the address of +his brother, though yet with the breeding of a gentleman. + +The eyes of Mary Connynge took in both men with the same look, but her +eyes, as did those of the Lady Catharine, became most concerned with the +first speaker. + +"My brother and I are on our first journey to London," continued he, +with a gay laugh which did not consort fully with the plight in which he +showed. "We started by coach, as gentlemen; and now we come on foot, +like laborers or thieves. 'Twas my own fault. Yesterday I must needs +quit the Edinboro' stage. Last night our chaise was stopped, and we were +asked to hand our money to a pair of evil fellows who had made prey of +us. In short--you see--we fared ill enough. Lost in the dark, we made +what shift we could along this road, where we both are strangers. At +last, not able to pay for better quarters even had we found them, we lay +down to sleep. I have slept far worse. And 'tis a lovely morning. Madam, +I thank you for this happy beginning of the day." + +Mary Connynge pointed to the bandage on the younger man's arm, speaking +a low word to her companion. + +"True," said the Lady Catharine, "you are injured, sir; you did not come +off whole." + +"Oh, we would hardly suffer the fellows to rob us without making some +argument over it," said the first speaker. "Indeed, I think we are the +better off hereabouts for a brace of footpads gone to their account. I +made them my duties as we came away. Will, here, was pricked a trifle, +but you see we have done very well." + +The face of Will Law hardly offered complete proof of this assertion. He +had slept ill enough, and in the morning light his face showed gaunt and +pale. Here, then, was a situation most inopportune; the coach of two +ladies, unattended, stopped by two strangers, who certainly could not +claim introduction by either friend or reputation. + +"I did but wish to ask some advice of the roads hereabout," said the +elder brother, turning his eyes full upon those of the Lady Catharine. +"As you see, we are in ill plight to get forward to the city. If you +will be so good as to tell me which way to take, I shall remember it +most gratefully. Once in the city, we should do better, for the rascals +have not taken certain papers, letters which I bear to gentlemen in the +city--Sir Arthur Pembroke I may name as one--a friend of my father's, +who hath had some dealings with him in the handling of moneys. I have +also word for others, and make sure that, once we have got into town, we +shall soon mend our fortune." + +Lady Catharine looked at Mary Connynge and the latter in turn gazed at +her. "There could be no harm," said each to the other with her eyes. +"Surely it is our duty to take them in with us; at least the one who is +wounded." + +Will Law had said nothing, though he had come forward to the road, and, +bowing, stood uncovered. Now he leaned against the flank of one of the +horses, in a tremor of vertigo which seized him as he stood. It was +perhaps the paleness of his face that gave determination to the issue. + +"William," called the Lady Catharine Knollys, "open the door for Mr. Law +of Lauriston!" + +The footman sprang to the ground and held open the door. Therefore, into +the coach stepped John Law and his brother, late of Edinboro', sometime +robbed and afoot, but now to come into London in circumstances which +surely might have been far worse. + +John Law entered the coach with the dignity and grace of a gentleman +born. He bowed gravely as he took his seat beside his brother, facing +the ladies. Will Law sank back into the corner, not averse to rest. The +eyes of the two young women did not linger more upon the wounded man +than upon his brother. He, in turn, looked straight into their eyes, +courteously, respectfully, gravely, yet fearlessly and calmly, as +though he knew what power and possibilities were his. Enigma and +autocrat alike, Beau Law of Edinboro', one of the handsomest and +properest men ever bred on any soil, was surely a picture of vigorous +young manhood, as he rode toward Sadler's Wells, with two of the +beauties of the hour, and in a coach and four which might have been his +own. + +Now all the sweet spring morning came on apace, and from the fields and +little gardens came the breath of flowers. The sky was blue. The languor +of springtime pulsed through the veins of those young creatures, those +engines of life, of passion and desire. Neither of the two women saw the +torn garb of the man before them. They saw but the curve of the strong +chest beneath. They heard, and the one heard and felt as keenly as the +other, the voice of the young man, musical and rich, touching some +deep-seated and vibrating heart-string. So in the merry month of May, +with the birds singing in the trees, and the scent of the flowers wafted +coolly to their senses, they came on apace to the throng at Sadler's +Wells. There it was that John Law, finding in a pocket a coin that had +been overlooked, reached out to a vender and bought a rose. He offered +his flower with a deep inclination of the body to the Lady Catharine. + +It was at this moment that Mary Connynge first began to hate her friend, +the Lady Catharine Knollys. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE POINT OF HONOR + + +"Tell me, friend Castleton," said Pembroke, banteringly, "art still +adhering to thy country drink of lamb's-wool? Methinks burnt ale and +toasted apple might better be replaced in thy case by a beaker of +stronger waters. You lose, and still you lose." + +"May a plague take it!" cried Castleton. "I've had no luck these four +days. 'Tis that cursed lap-dog of the duchess. Ugh! I saw it in my +dreams last night." + +"Gad! your own fortune in love must be ill enough, Sir Arthur," said +Beau Wilson, as he pushed back his chair during this little lull in the +play of the evening. + +"And tell me why, Beau?" + +"Because of us all who have met here at the Green Lion these last +months, not one hath ever had so steady a run of luck. Sure some fairy +hath befriended thee. _Sept et le va, sept et le va_--I'll hear it in my +ears to-night, even as Castleton sees the lap-dog. Man, you play as +though you read the pack quite through." + +"Ah, then, you admit that there is some such thing as a talisman. I'll +not deny that I have had one these last three evenings, but I feared to +tell ye all, lest I might be waylaid and robbed of my good-luck charm." + +"Tell us, tell us, man, what it is!" cried Castleton. "_Sept et le va_ +has not been made in this room before for many a month, yet here thou +comest with the run of _sept et le va_ thrice in as many hours." + +"Well, then," continued Pembroke, still smiling, "I'll make a small +confession. Here is my charm. Salute it!" + +He cast on the table the Indian moccasin which had been shown the same +party at the Green Lion a few evenings before. Eager hands reached for +it. + +"Treachery!" cried Castleton. "I bid Du Mesne four pounds for the shoe +myself." + +"Oh ho!" said Pembroke, "so you too were after it. Well, the long purse +won, as it doth ever. I secretly gave our wandering wood ranger, +ex-galley slave of France, the neat sum of twenty-five pounds for this +little shoe. Poor fellow, he liked ill enough to part with it; but he +said, very sensibly, that the twenty-five pounds would take him back to +Canada, and once there, he could not only get many such shoes, but see +the maid who made this one for him, or, rather, made it for herself. As +for me, the price was cheap. You could not replace it in all the +Exchange for any money. Moreover, to show my canniness, I've won back +its cost a score of times this very night." + +He laughingly extended his hand for the moccasin, which Wilson was +examining closely. + +"'Tis clever made," said the latter. "And what a tale the owner of it +carried. If half he says be true, we do ill to bide here in old England. +Let us take ship and follow Monsieur du Mesne." + +"'Twould be a long chase, mayhap," said Pembroke, reflectively. Yet each +of the men at that little table in the gaming room of the Green Lion +coffee-house ceased in his fingering the cards, and gazed upon this +product of another world. + +Pembroke was first to break the silence, and as he heard a footfall at +the door, he called out: + +"Ho, fellow! Go fetch me another bottle of Spanish, and do not forget +this time the brandy and water which I told thee to bring half an hour +ago." + +The step came nearer, and as it did not retreat, but entered the room, +Pembroke called out again: "Make haste, man, and go on!" + +The footsteps paused, and Pembroke looked up, as one does when a strange +presence comes into the room. He saw, standing near the door, a tall and +comely young man, whose carriage betokened him not ill-born. The +stranger advanced and bowed gravely. "Pardon me, sir," he said, "but I +fear I am awkward in thus intruding. The man showed me up the stair and +bade me enter. He said that I should find here Sir Arthur Pembroke, upon +whom I bear letters from friends of his in the North." + +"Sir," said Pembroke, rising and advancing, "you are very welcome, and I +ask pardon for my unwitting speech." + +"I come at this hour and at this place," said the newcomer, "for reasons +which may seem good a little later. My name is John Law, of Edinboro', +sir." + +All those present arose. + +"Sir," responded Pembroke, "I am delighted to have your name. I know of +the acquaintance between your father and my own. These are friends of +mine, and I am delighted to name ye to each other. Mr. Charles +Castleton; Mr. Edward Wilson. We are all here to kill the ancient enemy, +Time. 'Tis an hour of night when one gains an appetite for one thing or +another, cards or cold joint. I know not why we should not have a bit of +both?" + +"With your permission, I shall be glad to join ye at either," said John +Law. "I have still the appetite of a traveler--in faith, rather a better +appetite than most travelers may claim, for I swear I've had no more to +eat the last day and night than could be purchased for a pair of +shillings." + +Pembroke raised his eyebrows, scarce knowing whether to be amused at +this speech or nettled by its cool assurance. + +"Some ill fortune?"--he began politely. + +"There is no such thing as ill fortune," quoth John Law. "We fail always +of our own fault. Forsooth I must explore Roman roads by night. England +hath builded better, and the footpads have the Roman ways. My brother +Will--he waiteth below, if ye please, good friends, and is quite as +hungry as myself, besides having a pricked finger to boot--and I lost +what little we had about us, and we came through with scarce a good +shirt between the two." + +A peal of laughter greeted him as he pulled apart the lapels of his coat +and showed ruffles torn and disfigured. The speaker smiled gravely. + +"To-morrow," said he, "I must seek me out a goldsmith and a haberdasher, +if you will be so good as to name such to me." + +"Sir," said Sir Arthur Pembroke, "in this plight you must allow me." He +extended a purse which he drew from his pocket. "I beg you, help +yourself." + +"Thank you, no," replied John Law. "I shall ask you only to show me the +goldsmith in the morning, him upon whom I hold certain credits. I make +no doubt that then I shall be quite fit again. I have never in my life +borrowed a coin. Besides, I should feel that I had offended my good +angel did I ask it to help me out of mine own folly. If we have but a +bit of this cold joint, and a place for my brother Will to sit in +comfort as we play, I shall beg to hope, my friends, that I shall be +allowed to stake this trifle against a little of the money that I see +here; which, I take it, is subject to the fortunes of war." + +He tossed on the board a ring, which carried in its setting a diamond of +size and brilliance. + +"This fellow hath a cool assurance enough," muttered Beau Wilson to his +neighbor as he leaned toward him at the table. + +Pembroke, always good-natured, laughed at the effrontery of the +newcomer. + +"You say very well; it is there for the fortune of war," said he. "It is +all yours, if you can win it; but I warn you, beware, for I shall have +your jewel and your letters of credit too, if ye keep not sharp watch." + +"Yes," said Castleton, "Pembroke hath warrant for such speech. The man +who can make _sept et le va_ thrice in one evening is hard company for +his friends." + +John Law leaned back comfortably in his chair. + +"I make no doubt," said he, "that I shall make _trente et le va_, here +at this table, this very evening." + +Smiles and good-natured sneerings met this calm speech. + +"_Trente et le va_--it hath not come out in the history of London play +for the past four seasons!" cried Wilson. "I'll lay you any odds that +you're not within eye-sight of _trente et le va_ these next five +evenings, if you favor us with your company." + +"Be easy with me, good friends," said John. Law, calmly. "I am not yet +in condition for individual wagers, as my jewel is my fortune, till +to-morrow at least. But if ye choose to make the play at Lands-knecht, I +will plunge at the bank to the best of my capital. Then, if I win, I +shall be blithe to lay ye what ye like." + +The young Englishmen sat looking at their guest with some curiosity. His +strange assurance daunted them. + +"Surely this is a week of wonders," said Beau Wilson, with scarce +covered sarcasm in his tone. "First we have a wild man from Canada, with +his fairy stories of gold and gems, and now we have another gentleman +who apparently hath fathomed as well how to gain sudden wealth at will, +and yet keep closer home." + +Law took snuff calmly. "I am not romancing, gentlemen," said he. "With +me play is not a hazard, but a science. I ought really not to lay on +even terms with you. As I have said, there is no such thing as chance. +There are such things as recurrences, such things as laws that govern +all happenings." + +Laughter arose again at this, though it did not disturb the newcomer, +nor did the cries of derision which followed his announcement of his +system. + +"Many a man hath come to London town with a system of play," cried +Pembroke. "Tell us, Mr. Law, what and where shall we send thee when we +have won thy last sixpence?" + +"Good sir," said Law, "let us first of all have the joint." + +"I humbly crave a pardon, sir," said Pembroke. "In this new sort of +discourse I had forgot thine appetite. We shall mend that at once. Here, +Simon! Go fetch up Mr. Law's brother, who waits below, and fetch two +covers and a bit to eat. Some of thy new Java berry, too, and make +haste! We have much yet to do." + +"That have ye, if ye are to see the bottom of my purse more than once," +said Law gaily. "See! 'tis quite empty now. I make ye all my solemn +promise that 'twill not be empty again for twenty years. After +that--well, the old Highland soothsayer, who dreamed for me, always told +me to forswear play after I was forty, and never to go too near running +water. Of the latter I was born with a horror. For play, I was born with +a gift. Thus I foresee that this little feat which you mention is sure +to be mine this very night. You all say that _trente_ has not come up +for many months. Well, 'tis due, and due to-night. The cards never fail +me when I need." + +"By my faith," cried Wilson, "ye have a pretty way about you up in +Scotland!" + +John Law saw the veiled ill feeling, and replied at once: + +"True, we have a pretty way. We had it at Killiecrankie not so long ago; +and when the clans fight among themselves, we need still prettier ways." + +"Now, gentlemen," said Pembroke, "none of this talk, by your leave. The +odds are fairer here than they were at Killiecrankie's battle, and 'tis +all of us against the Scotch again. We English stand together, but we +stand to-night only against this threat of the ultimate fortune of the +cards. Moreover, here comes the supper, and if I mistake not, also the +brother of our friend." + +Will bowed to one and the other gentlemen, unconsciously drifting toward +his brother's chair. + +"Now we must to business," cried Castleton, as the dishes were at last +cleared away. "Show him thy talisman, Pem, and let him kiss his jewel +good by." + +Pembroke threw upon the table once more the moccasin of the Indian girl. +John Law picked it up and examined it long and curiously, asking again +and again searching questions regarding its origin. + +"I have read of this new land of America," said he. "Some day it will be +more prominent in all plans." + +He laid down the slipper and mused for a moment, apparently forgetful of +the scene about him. + +"Perhaps," cried Castleton, the zeal of the gambler now showing in his +eye. "But let us make play here to-night. Let Pembroke bank. His luck is +best to win this vaunter's stake." + +Pembroke dealt the cards about for the first round. The queen fell. John +Law won. "_Deux_," he said calmly, and turned away as though it were a +matter of course. The cards went round again. "_Trois_," he said, as he +glanced at his stakes, now doubled again. + +Wilson murmured. "Luck's with him for a start," said he, "but 'tis a +long road." He himself had lost at the second turn. "_Quint_!" "_Seix_!" +"_Sept et le va_!" in turn called Law, still coolly, still regarding with +little interest the growing heap of coin upon the board opposite the +glittering ring which he had left lying on the table. + +"_Vingt-un, et le va_!" + +"Good God!" cried Castleton, the sweat breaking out upon his forehead. +"See the fellow's luck!--Pembroke, sure he hath stole thy slipper. Such +a run of cards was never seen in this room since Rigby, of the Tenth, +made his great game four years ago." + +"_Vingt-cinq; et le va_!" said John Law, calmly. + +Will touched his sleeve. The stake had now grown till the money on the +hoard meant a matter of hundreds of pounds, which might he removed at +any turn the winner chose. It was there but for the stretching out of +the hand. Yet this strange genius sat there, scarce deigning to smile at +the excited faces of those about him. + +"I'll lay thee fifty to one that the next turn sees thee lose!" cried +Castleton. + +"Done," said John Law. + +The iciness in the air seemed now an actual thing. There was, in the +nature of this play, something which no man at that board, hardened +gamesters as they all were, had ever met before. It was indeed as though +Fate were there, with her hand upon the shoulder of a favored son. + +"You lose, Mr. Castleton," said Law, calmly, as the cards came again his +way. He swept his winnings from the coin pushed out to him. + +"Now we have thee, Mr. Law!" cried Pembroke. "One more turn, and I hope +your very good nerve will leave the stake on the board, for so we'll see +it all come back to the bank, even as the sheep come home at eventide. +Here your lane turns. And 'tis at the last stage, for the next is the +limit of the rules of the game. But you'll not win it." + +"Anything you like for a little personal wager," said the other, with no +excitement in his voice. + +"Why, then, anything you like yourself, sir," said Pembroke. + +"Your little slipper against fifty pounds?" asked John Law. + +"Why--yes--," hesitated Pembroke, for the moment feeling a doubt of the +luck that had favored him so long that evening. "I'd rather make it +sovereigns, but since you name the slipper, I even make it so, for I +know there is but one chance in hundreds that you win." + +The players leaned over the table as the deal went on. Once, twice, +thrice, the cards went round. A sigh, a groan, a long breath broke from +those who looked at the deal. Neither groan nor sigh came from John Law. +He gazed indifferently at the heap of coin and paper that lay on the +table, and which, by the law of play, was now his own. + +"_Trente et le va_," he said. "I knew that it would come. Sir Arthur, I +half regret to rob thee thus, but I shall ask my slipper in hand paid. +Pardon me, too, if I chide thee for risking it in play. Gentlemen, there +is much in this little shoe, empty as it is." + +He dandled it upon his finger, hardly looking at the winnings that lay +before him. "'Tis monstrous pretty, this little shoe," he said, rousing +himself from his half reverie. + +"Confound thee, man!" cried Castleton, "that is the only thing we +grudge. Of sovereigns there are plenty at the coinage--but of a shoe +like this, there is not the equal this day in England!" + +"So?" laughed Law. "Well, consider, 'tis none too easy to make the run +of _trente_. Risk hath its gains, you know, by all the original laws of +earth and nature." + +"But heard you not the wager which was proposed over the little shoe?" +broke in Castleton. "Wilson, here, was angered when I laid him odds that +there was but one woman in London could wear this shoe. I offered him +odds that his good friend, Kittie Lawrence--" + +"Nor had ye the right to offer such bet!" cried Wilson, ruffled by the +doings of the evening. + +"I'll lay you myself there's no woman in England whom you know with foot +small enough to wear it," cried Castleton. + +"Meaning to me?" asked Law, politely. + +"To any one," cried Castleton, quickly, "but most to thee, I fancy, +since 'tis now thy shoe!" + +"I'll lay you forty crowns, then, that I know a smaller foot than that +of Madam Lawrence," said Law, suavely. "I'll lay you another forty +crowns that I'll try it on for the test, though I first saw the lady +this very morning. I'll lay you another forty crowns that Madam Lawrence +can not wear this shoe, though her I have never seen." + +These words rankled, though they were said offhand and with the license +of coffee-house talk at so late an hour. Beau Wilson rose, in a somewhat +unsteady attitude, and, turning towards Law, addressed him with a tone +which left small option as to its meaning. + +"Sirrah!" cried he, "I know not who you are, but I would have a word or +two of good advice for you!" + +"Sir, I thank you," said John Law, "but perhaps I do not need advice." +He did not rise from his seat. + +"Have it then at any rate, and be civil!" cried the older man. "You seem +a swaggering sort, with your talk of love and luck, and such are sure to +get their combs cut early enough here among Englishmen. I'll not +tolerate your allusion to a lady you have never met, and one I honor +deeply, sir, deeply!" + +"I am but a young man started out to seek his fortune," said John Law, +his eye kindling now for the first time, "and I should do very ill if I +evaded that fortune, whatsoever it may be." + +"Then you'll take back that talk of Mrs. Lawrence!" + +"I have made no talk of Mrs. Lawrence, sir," said Law, "and even had I, +I should take back nothing for a demand like yours. 'Tis not meet, sir, +where no offense was meant, to crowd in an offensive remark." + +Pembroke said nothing. The situation was ominous enough at this point. A +sudden gravity and dignity fell upon the young men who sat there, +schooled in an etiquette whose first lesson was that of personal +courage. + +"Sirrah!" cried Beau Wilson, "I perceive your purpose. If you prove good +enough to name lodgings where you may he found by my friends, I shall +ask leave to bid you a very good night." + +So speaking, Wilson flung out of the room. A silence fell upon those +left within. + +"Sirs," said Law, a moment later, "I beg you to bear witness that this +is no matter of my seeking or accepting. This gentleman is a stranger to +me. I hardly got his name fair." + +"Wilson is his name, sir," said Pembroke, "a very good friend of us all. +He is of good family, and doth keep his coach-and-four like any +gentleman. For him we may vouch very well." + +"Wilson!" cried Law, springing now to his feet. "'Tis not him known as +Beau Wilson? Why, my dear sirs, his father was friend to many of my kin +long ago. Why, sir, this is one of those to whom my mother bade me look +to get my first ways of London well laid out." + +"These are some of the ways of London," said Pembroke, grimly. + +"But is there no fashion in which this matter can be accommodated?" + +Pembroke and Castleton looked at each other, rose and passed him, each +raising his hat and bowing courteously. + +"Your servant, sir," said the one; and, "Your servant, sir," said the +other. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +DIVERS EMPLOYMENTS OF JOHN LAW + + +"And when shall I send these garments to your Lordship?" asked the +haberdasher, with whom Law was having speech on the morning following +the first night in London. + +"Two weeks from to-day," said Law, "in the afternoon, and not later than +four o'clock. I shall have need for them." + +"Impossible!" said the tradesman, hitherto obsequious, but now smitten +with the conviction regarding the limits of human possibilities. + +"At that hour, or not at all," said John Law, calmly. "At that time I +shall perhaps be at my lodgings, 59 Bradwell Street, West. As I have +said to you, I am not clad as I could wish. It is not a matter of your +convenience, but of mine own." + +"But, sir," expostulated the other, "you order of the best. Nothing, I +am sure, save the utmost of good workmanship would please you. I should +like a month of time upon these garments, in order to make them worthy +of yourself. Moreover, there are orders of the nobility already in our +hands will occupy us more than past the time you name. Make it three +weeks, sir, and I promise--" + +His customer only shook his head and reiterated, "You heard me well." + +The tailor, sore puzzled, not wishing to lose a customer who came so +well recommended, and yet hesitating at the exactions of that customer, +sat with perplexity written upon his brow. + +"So!" exclaimed Law. "Sir Arthur Pembroke told me that you were a clever +fellow and could execute exact any order I might give you. Now it +appears to me you are like everybody else. You prate only of hardships +and of impossibilities." + +The perspiration fairly stood out on the forehead of the man of trade. + +"Sir," said he, "I should be glad to please not only a friend of Sir +Arthur Pembroke, but also a gentleman of such parts as yourself. I +hesitate to promise--" + +"But you must promise," said John Law. + +"Well, then, I do promise! I will have this apparel at your place on the +day which you name. 'Tis most extraordinary, but the order shall be +executed." + +"As I thought," said John Law. + +"But I must thank you besides," resumed the tradesman. "In good truth I +must say that of all the young gentlemen who come hither--and I may show +the names of the best nobility of London and of some ports beyond +seas--there hath never stepped within these doors a better figure than +yourself--nay, not so good. And I am a judge of men." + +Law looked at him carelessly. + +"You shall make me none the easier, nor yourself the easier, by soft +speech," said he, "if you have not these garments ready by the time +appointed. Send them, and you shall have back the fifty sovereigns by +the messenger, with perhaps a coin or so in addition if all be well." + +"The air of this nobility!" said the tailor, but smiling with pleasure +none the less. "This is, perhaps, some affair with a lady?" he added. + +"'Tis an affair with a lady, and also with certain gentlemen." + +"Oh, so," said the tailor. "If it he, forsooth, an enterprise with a +lady, methinks I know the outcome now." He gazed with professional pride +upon the symmetrical figure before him. "You shall be all the better +armed when well fitted in my garments. Not all London shall furnish a +properer figure of a man, nor one better clad, when I shall have done +with you, sir." + +Law but half heard him, for he was already turning toward the door, +where he beckoned again for his waiting chair. + +"To the offices of the Bank of England," he directed. And forthwith he +was again jogging through the crowded streets of London. + +The offices of the Bank of England, to which this young adventurer now +so nonchalantly directed his course, were then not housed in any such +stately edifice as that which now covers the heart of the financial +world, nor did the location of the young and struggling institution, in +a by-street of the great city, tend to give dignity to a concern which +still lacked importance and assuredness. Thither, then, might have gone +almost any young traveler who needed a letter of credit cashed, or a +bill changed after the fashion of the passing goldsmiths. + +Yet it was not as mere transient customer of a money-changer that young +Law now sought the Bank of England, nor was it as a commercial house +that the bank then commanded attention. That bank, young as it was, had +already become a pillar of the throne of England. William, distracted by +wars abroad and factions at home, found his demands for funds ever in +excess of the supply. More than that, the people of England discovered +themselves in possession of a currency fluctuating, mutilated, and +unstable, so that no man knew what was his actual fortune. The shrewd +young financier, Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, who either by +wisdom or good fortune had sanctioned the founding of the Bank of +England, was at this very time addressing himself to the question of a +recoinage of the specie of the realm of England. He needed help, he +demanded ideas; nor was he too particular whence he obtained either the +one or the other. + +John Law was in London on no such blind quest as he had himself +declared. He was here by the invitation, secret yet none the less +obligatory, of Montague, controller of the financial policy of England. +And he was to meet, here upon this fair morning, none less than my Lord +Somers, keeper of the seals; none less than Sir Isaac Newton, the +greatest mathematician of his time; none less than John Locke, the most +learned philosopher of the day. Strong company this, for a young and +unknown man, yet in the belief of Montague, himself a young man and a +gambler by instinct, not too strong for this young Scotchman who had +startled the Parliament of his own land by some of the most remarkable +theories of finance which had ever been proposed in any country or to +any government. As Law had himself arrogantly announced, he was indeed a +philosopher and a mathematician, young as he was; and these things +Montague was himself keen enough to know. + +It promised, then, to be a strange and interesting council, this which +was to meet to-day at the Bank of England, to adjust the value of +England's coinage; two philosophers, one pompous trimmer, and two +gamblers; the younger and more daring of whom was now calmly threading +the streets of London on his way to a meeting which might mean much to +him. + +To John Law, adventurer, mathematician, philosopher, gambler, it seemed +a natural enough thing that he should be asked to sit at the council +table with the ablest minds of the day and pass upon questions the most +important. This was not what gave him trouble. This matter of the +coinage, these questions of finance--they were easy. But how to win the +interest of the tall and gracious English girl whom he had met by chance +that other morn, who had left no way open for a further meeting; how to +gain access to the presence of that fair one--these were the questions +which to John Law seemed of greater importance, and of greater +difficulty in the answering. + +The chair drew up at the somber quarters where the meeting had been set. +Law knew the place by instinct, even without seeing the double row of +heavy-visaged London constabulary which guarded the entrance. Here and +there along the street were carriages and chairs, and multiplied +conveyances of persons of consequence. Upon the narrow pavement, and +within the little entrance-way that led to the inner room, there bustled +about important-looking men, some with hooked noses, most with florid +faces and well-fed bodies, but all with a certain dignity and sobriety +of expression. + +Montague himself, young, smooth-faced, dark-eyed, of active frame, of +mobile and pleasing features, sat at the head of a long table. The +high-strung quality of his nervous system was evidenced in his restless +hands, his attitude frequently changed. + +At the left of Montague sat Somers, lord keeper; older, of more steady +demeanor, of fuller figure, of bold face and full light eye, a +politician, not a ponderer. At the right of Montague, grave, silent, +impassive, now and again turning a contemplative eye about him, sat that +great man. Sir Isaac Newton, known then to every nobleman, and now to +every schoolboy, of the world. A gem-like mind, keen, clear, hard and +brilliant, exact in every facet, and forsooth held in the setting of an +iron body. Gentle, unmoved, self-assured, Sir Issac Newton was calm as +morn itself as he sat in readiness to give England the benefit of his +wisdom. + +Beyond sat John Locke, abstruse philosopher, a man thinner and darker +than his _confrère_, with large full orb, with the brow of the student +and the man of thought. In dignity he shared with the learned gentleman +sitting near him. + +All those at the board looked with some intentness at the figure of the +young man from the North, who came as the guest of Montague. With small +formality, the latter rose and advanced to meet Law with an eager grasp +of the hand. He made him known to the others present promptly, but with +a half apology. + +"Gentlemen," said he, "I have made bold to ask the presence with us of a +young man who has much concerned himself with problems such as those +which we have now in hand. Sir Isaac Newton, this is Mr. Law of +Edinboro'. Mr. Law, the fame of John Locke I need not lay before you, +and of my Lord Somers you need no advice. Mr. Law, I shall pray you to +be seated. + +"I shall but serve as your mouthpiece to the Court, gentlemen," resumed +Montague, seating himself and turning at once to the business of the +day. "We are all agreed as to the urgency of the case. The king needs +behind him in these times a contented people. You have already seen the +imminence of a popular discontent which may shake the throne of England, +none too safe in these days of change. That we must reorganize the +coinage is understood and agreed. The question is, how best to do this +without further unsettling the times. My Lord Keeper, I must beg you for +your suggestions." + +"Sir," said Somers, shifting and coughing, "it is as you say. The +question is of great moment. I should suggest a decree that the old coin +shall pass by weight alone and not by its face value. Call in all the +coin and have it weighed, the government to make future payment to the +owner of the coin of the difference between its nominal and its real +value. The coin itself should be restored forthwith to its owner. Hence +the trade and the credit of the realm would not suffer. The money of the +country would be withdrawn from the use of the country only that short +time wherein it was in process of counting. This, it occurs to me, would +surely be a practical method, and could work harm to none." My Lord +Somers sat back, puffing out his chest complacently. + +"Sir Isaac," said Montague, "and Mr. Locke, we must beg you to find such +fault as you may with this plan which my Lord Keeper hath suggested." + +Sir Isaac made no immediate reply. John Locke stirred gently in his +chair. "There seemeth much to commend in this plan of my Lord Keeper," +said he, leaning slightly forward, "but in pondering my Lord Keeper's +suggestion for the bringing in of this older coin, I must ask you if +this plan can escape that selfish impulse of the human mind which +seeketh for personal gain? For, look you, short as would be the time +proposed, it taketh but still shorter time to mutilate a coin; and it +doth seem to me that, under the plan of my Lord Keeper, we should see +the old currency of England mutilated in a night. Sir, I should opine in +the contrary of this plan, and would base my decision upon certain +principles which I believe to be ever present in the human soul." + +Montague cast down his eye for a moment. "Sir Isaac," at length he +began, "we are relying very much upon you. Is there no suggestion which +you can offer on this ticklish theme?" + +The large, full face of the great man was turned calmly and slowly upon +the speaker. His deep and serene eye apparently saw not so much the man +before him as the problem which lay on that man's mind. + +"Sir," said Sir Isaac, "as John Locke hath said, this is after all much +a matter of clear reasoning. There come into this problem two chief +questions: First, who shall pay the expense of the recoinage? Shall the +Government pay the expense, or shall the owner of the coin, who is to +obtain good coin for evil? + +"Again, this matter applieth not to one man but to many men. Now if one +half the tradesmen of England rush to us with their coin for reminting, +surely the trade of the country will have left not sufficient medium +with which to prosper. This I take to be the second part of this +problem. + +"There be certain persons of the realm who claim that we may keep our +present money as it is, but mark from its face a certain amount of +value. Look you, now, this were a small thing; yet, in my mind, it +clearly seemeth dishonesty. For, if I owe my neighbor a debt, let us say +for an hundred sovereigns, shall I not be committing injustice upon my +neighbor if I pay him an hundred sovereigns less that deduction which +the realm may see fit thus to impose upon the face of my sovereign? +This, in justice, sirs, I hold it to be not the part of science, nor the +part of honesty, neither of statesmanship, to endorse." + +"Sir Isaac," cried Montague, striking his nervous hands upon the table, +"recoin we must. But how, and, as you say, at whose expense? We are as +far now from a plan as when we started. We but multiply difficulties. +What we need now is not so much negative measures as positive ones. We +must do this thing, and we must do it promptly. The question is still +of how it may best be done. Mr. Law, by your leave and by the leave of +these gentlemen here present, I shall take the liberty of asking you if +there doth occur to your mind any plan by which we may be relieved of +certain of these difficulties. I am aware, sir, that you are much a +student in these matters." + +A grave silence fell upon all. John Law, young, confident and arrogant +in many ways as he was, none the less possessed sobriety and depth of +thought, just as he possessed the external dignity to give it fitting +vehicle. He gazed now at the men before him, not with timorousness or +trepidation. His face was grave, and he returned their glances calmly as +he rose and made the speech which, unknown to himself, was presently to +prove so important in his life. + +"My Lords," said he, "and gentlemen of this council, I am ill-fitted to +be present here, and ill-fitted to add my advice to that which has been +given. It is not for me to go beyond the purpose of this meeting, or to +lay before you certain plans of my own regarding the credit of nations. +I may start, as does our learned friend, simply from established +principles of human nature. + +"It is true that the coinage is a creature of the government. Yet I +believe it to be true that the government lives purely upon credit; +which is to say, the confidence of the people in that government. + +"Now, we may reason in this matter perhaps from the lesser relations of +our daily life. What manner of man do we most trust among those whom we +meet? Surely, the honest man, the plain man, the one whose directness +and integrity we do not doubt. Truly you may witness the nature of such +a man in the manner of his speech, in his mien, in his conduct. +Therefore, my Lords and gentlemen, it seems to me plain that we shall +best gain confidence for ourselves if we act in the most simple fashion. + +"Let us take up this matter directly with Parliament, not seeking to +evade the knowledge of Parliament in any fashion; for, as we know, the +Parliament and the king are not the best bed-fellows these days, and the +one is ready enough to suspect the other. Let us have a bill framed for +Parliament--such bill made upon the decisions of these learned gentlemen +present. Above all things, let us act with perfect openness. + +"As to the plan itself, it seems that a few things may be held safe and +sure. Since we can not use the old coin, then surely we must have new +coin, milled coin, which Charles, the earlier king of England, has +decreed. Surely, too, as our learned friend has wisely stated, the loss +in any recoinage ought, in full justice and honesty, to fall not upon +the people of England, but upon the government of England. It seems +equally plain to me there must be a day set after which the old coin may +no longer be used. Set it some months ahead, not, as my Lord Keeper +suggests, but a few days; so that full notice may be given to all. Make +your campaign free and plain, and place it so that it may be known, not +only of Parliament, but of all the world. Thus you establish yourselves +in the confidence of Parliament and in the good graces of this people, +from whom the taxes must ultimately come." + +Montague's hands smote again upon the table with a gesture of +conviction. John Locke shifted again in his chair. Sir Isaac and the +lord keeper gazed steadfastly at this young man who stood before them, +calmly, assuredly, and yet with no assumption in his mien. + +"Moreover," went on John Law, calmly, "there is this further benefit to +be gained, as I am sure my countryman, Mr. Paterson, has long ago made +plain. It is not a question of the wealth of England, but a question of +the confidence of the people in the throne. There is money in abundance +in England. It is the province of my Lord Chancellor to wheedle it out +of those coffers where it is concealed and place it before the uses of +the king. Gentlemen, it is confidence that we need. There will be no +trouble to secure loans of money in this rich land, but the taxes must +be the pledge to your bankers. This new Bank of England will furnish you +what moneys you may need. Secure them only by the pledge of such taxes +as you feel the people may not resent; give the people, free of cost, a +coinage which they can trust; and then, it seems to me, my Lords and +gentlemen, the problem of the revenue may be thought solved simply and +easily--solved, too, without irritating either the people or the +Parliament, or endangering the relations of Parliament and the throne." + +The conviction which fell upon all found its best expression in the face +of Montague. The youth and nervousness of the man passed away upon the +instant. He sat there sober and thoughtful, quiet and resolved. + +"Gentlemen," said he at last, slowly, "my course is plain from this +instant. I shall draw the bill and it shall go to Parliament. The +expense of this recoinage I am sure we can find maintained by the +stockholders of the Bank of England, and for their pay we shall propose +a new tax upon the people of England. We shall tax the windows of the +houses of England, and hence tax not only the poor but the rich of +England, and that proportionately with their wealth. As for the coin of +England, it shall be honest coin, made honest and kept honest, at no +cost to the people of old England. Sirs, my heart is lighter than it has +been for many days." + +The last trace of formality in the meeting having at length vanished, +Montague made his way rapidly to the foot of the table. He caught Law by +both his hands. + +"Sir," said he, "you helped us at the last stage of our ascent. A +mistake here had been ruinous, not only to myself and friends, but to +the safety of the whole Government. You spoke wisely and practically. +Sir, if I can ever in all my life serve you, command me, and at whatever +price you name. I am not yet done with you, sir," resumed Montague, +casting his arm boyishly about the other's shoulder as they walked out. +"We must meet again to discuss certain problems of the currency which, I +bethink me, you have studied deeply. Keep you here in London, for I +shall have need of you. Within the month, perhaps within the week, I +shall require you. England needs men who can do more than dawdle. Pray +you, keep me advised where you may be found." + +There was ill omen in the light reply. "Why, as to that, my Lord," said +Law, "if you should think my poor service useful, your servants might +get trace of me at the Green Lion--unless I should be in prison! No man +knoweth what may come." + +Montague laughed lightly. "At the Green Lion, or in Newgate itself," +said he. "Be ready, for I have not yet done with you." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE RESOLUTION OF MR. LAW + + +The problems of England's troubled finances, the questions of the +coinage, the gossip of the king's embroilments with the +Parliament--these things, it may again be said, occupied Law's mind far +less than the question of gaining audience with his fair rescuer of the +morn at Sadler's Wells. This was the puzzle which, revolve it as he +might, not even his audacious wit was able to provide with plausible +solution. He pondered the matter in a hundred different pleasing phases +as he passed from the Bank of England through the crowded streets of +London, and so at length found himself at the shabby little lodgings in +Bradwell Street, where he and his brother had, for the time, taken up +their quarters. + +"It starteth well, my boy," cried he, gaily, to his brother, when at +length he had found his way up the narrow stair into the little room, +and discovered Will patiently awaiting his return. "Already two of my +errands are well acquit." + +"You have, then, sent the letters to our goldsmith here?" said Will. + +"Now, to say truth, I had not thought of that. But letters of +credit--why need we trouble over such matters? These English are but +babes. Give me a night or so in the week at the Green Lion, and we'll +need no letters of credit, Will. Look at your purse, boy--since you are +the thrifty cashier of our firm!" + +"I like not this sort of gold," said Will Law, setting his lips +judicially. + +"Yet it seems to purchase well as any," said the other, indifferently. +"At least, such is my hope, for I have made debt against our purse of +some fifty sovereigns--some little apparel which I have ordered. For, +look you, Will, I must be clothed proper. In these days, as I may tell +you, I am to meet such men as Montague, chancellor of the exchequer--my +Lord Keeper Somers--Sir Isaac Newton--Mr. John Locke--gentry of that +sort. It is fitting I should have better garb than this which we have +brought with us." + +"You are ever free with some mad jest or other, Jack; but what is this +new madness of which you speak?" + +"No madness at all, my dear boy; for in fact I have but come from the +council chamber, where I have met these very gentlemen whom I have +named to you. But pray you note, my dear brother, there are those who +hold John Law, and his studies, not so light as doth his own brother. +For myself, the matter furnishes no surprise at all. As for you, you had +never confidence in me, nor in yourself. Gad! Will, hadst but the +courage of a flea, what days we two might have together here in this old +town!" + +"I want none of such days, Jack," said Will Law, soberly. "I care most +to see you settled in some decent way of living. What will your mother +say, if we but go on gaming and roistering, with dangers of some sudden +quarrel--as this which has already sprung up--with no given aim in life, +with nothing certain for an ambition--" + +"Now, Will," began his brother, yet with no petulance in his tone, "pray +go not too hard with me at the start. I thought I had done fairly well, +to sit at the table of the council of coinage on my first day in London. +'Tis not every young man gets so far as that. Come, now, Will!" + +"But after all, there must be serious purpose." + +"Know then," cried the elder man, suddenly, "that I have found such +serious purpose!" + +The speaker stood looking out of the window, his eye fixed out across +the roofs of London. There had now fallen from his face all trace of +levity, and into his eye and mouth there came reflex of the decision of +his speech. Will stirred in his chair, and at length the two faced each +other. + +"And pray, what is this sudden resolution, Jack?" said Will Law. + +"If I must tell you, it is simply this: I am resolved to marry the girl +we met at Sadler's Wells." + +"How--what--?" + +"Yes, how--what--?" repeated his brother, mockingly. + +"But I would ask, which?" + +"There was but one," said John Law. "The tall one, with the +brassy-brown, copper-red hair, the bright blue eye, and the figure of a +queen. Her like is not in all the world!" + +"Methought 'twas more like to be the other," replied Will. "Yet you--how +dare you think thus of that lady? Why, Jack, 'twas the Lady Catharine +Knollys, sister to the Earl of Banbury!" + +Law did not at once make any answer. He turned to the dressing-table and +began making such shift as he could to better his appearance. + +"Will," said he, at length, "you are, as ever, a babe and a suckling. I +quite despair of you. 'Twould serve no purpose to explain anything to so +faint a heart as yours. But you may come with me." + +"And whither?" + +"Whither? Where else, than to the residence of this same lady! Look +you, I have learned this. She is, as you say, the sister of the Earl of +Banbury, and is for the time at the town house in Knightwell Terrace. +Moreover, if that news be worth while to so white-feathered a swain as +yourself, the other, damsel, the dark one--the one with the mighty +pretty little foot--lives there for the time as the guest of Lady +Catharine. They are rated thick as peas in a pod. True, we are +strangers, yet I venture we have made a beginning, and if we venture +more we may better that beginning. Should I falter, when luck gave me +the run of _trente et le va_ but yesterday? Nay, ever follow fortune +hard, and she waits for you." + +"Yes," said Will, scornfully. "You would get the name of gambler, and +add to it the name of fortune-hunting, heiress-seeking adventurer." + +"Not so," replied John Law, taking snuff calmly and still keeping the +evenness of his temper. "My own fortune, as I admit, I keep safe at the +Green Lion. For the rest, I seek at the start only respectful footing +with this maid herself. When first I saw her, I knew well enough how the +end would be. We were made for each other. This whole world was made for +us both. Will, boy, I could not live without the Lady Catharine +Knollys!" + +"Oh, cease such talk, Jack! 'Tis ill-mannered, such presumption +regarding a lady, even had you known her long. Besides, 'tis but another +of your fancies, Jack," said Will. "Wilt never make an end of such +follies?" + +"Yes, my boy," said his brother, gravely. "I have made an end. Indeed, I +made it the other morning at Sadler's Wells." + +"Methinks," said Will, dryly, "that it might be well first to be sure +that you can win past the front door of the house of Knollys." + +John Law still kept both his temper and his confidence. + +"Come with me," said he, blithely, "and I will show you how that thing +may be done." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +TWO MAIDS A-BROIDERING + + +"Now a plague take all created things, Lady Kitty!" cried Mary Connynge, +petulantly flinging down a silken pattern over which she had pretended +to be engaged. "There are devils in the skeins to-day. I'll try no more +with't." + +"Fie! For shame, Mary Connynge," replied Lady Catharine Knollys, +reprovingly. "So far from better temperance of speech, didst ever hear +of the virtue of perseverance? Now, for my own part--" + +"And what, for your own part? Have I no eyes to see that thou'rt +puttering over the same corner this last half hour? What is it thou art +making to-day?" + +The Lady Catharine paused for a moment and held her embroidery frame +away from her at arm's length, looking at it with brow puckering into a +perplexed frown. + +"I was working a knight," said she. "A tall one--" + +"Yes, a tall one, with yellow hair, I warrant." + +"Why, so it was. I was but seeking floss of the right hue, and found it +difficult." + +"And with blue eyes?" + +"True; or perhaps gray. I could not state which. I had naught in my box +would serve to suit me for the eyes. But how know you this, Mary +Connynge?" asked the Lady Catharine. + +"Because I was making some such knight for myself," replied the other. +"See! He was to have been tall, of good figure, wearing a wide hat and +plume withal. But lest I spoil him, my knight--now a plague take me +indeed if I do not ruin him complete!" So saying, she drew with vengeful +fingers at the intricately woven silks until she had indeed undone all +that had gone before. + +"Nay, nay! Mary Connynge! Do not so!" replied Lady Catharine in +expostulation. "The poor knight, how could he help himself? Why, as for +mine, though I find him not all I could wish, I'll e'en be patient as I +may, and seek if I may not mend him. These knights, you know, are most +difficult. 'Tis hard to make them perfect." + +Mary Connynge sat with her hands in her lap, looking idly out of the +window and scarce heeding the despoiled fabric which lay on her lap. +"Come, confess, Lady Kitty," said she at length, turning toward her +friend. "Wert not trying to copy a knight of a hedge-row after all? Did +not a certain tall young knight, with eyes of blue, or gray, or the +like, give pattern for your sampler while you were broidering to-day?" + +"Fie! For shame!" again replied Lady Catharine, flushing none the less. +"Rather ask, does not such a thought come over thine own broidering? But +as to the hedge-row, surely the gentleman explained it all proper +enough; and I am sure--yes, I am very sure--that my brother Charles had +quite approved of my giving the injured young man the lift in the +coach--" + +"Provided that your Brother Charles had ever heard of such a thing!" + +"Well, of that, to be sure, why trouble my brother over such a trifle, +when 'twas so obviously proper?" argued Lady Catharine, bravely. "And +certainly, if we come to knights and the like, good chivalry has ever +demanded succor for those in distress; and if, forsooth, it was two +damsels in a comfortable coach, who rescued two knights from underneath +a hedge-row, why, such is but the way of these modern days, when knights +go seeking no more for adventures and ladies fair; as you very well +know." + +"As I do not know, Lady Catharine," replied Mary Connynge. "To the +contrary, 'twould not surprise me to learn that he would not shrink +from any adventure which might offer." + +"You mean--that is--you mean the tall one, him who said he was Mr. Law +of Lauriston?" + +"Well, perhaps. Though I must say," replied Mary Connynge, with +indirection, "that I fancy the other far more, he being not so forward, +nor so full of pure conceit. I like not a man so confident." This with +an eye cast down, as much as though there were present in the room some +man subject to her coquetry. + +"Why, I had not found him offering such an air," replied Lady Catharine, +judicially. "I had but thought him frank enough, and truly most +courteous." + +"Why, truly," replied Mary Connynge. "But saw you naught in his eye?" + +"Why, but that it was blue, or gray," replied Lady Catharine. + +"Oh, ho! then my lady did look a bit, after all! And so this is why the +knight flourisheth so bravely in silks to-day--Fie! but a mere +adventurer, Lady Kitty. He says he is Law of Lauriston; but what proof +doth he offer? And did he find such proof, it is proof of what? For my +part, I did never hear of Lauriston nor its owner." + +"Ah, but that I have, to the contrary," said Lady Catharine. "John +Law's father was a goldsmith, and it was he who bought the properties of +Lauriston and Randleston. And so far from John Law being ill-born, why, +his mother was Jean Campbell, kinswoman of the Campbell, Duke of Argyll; +and a mighty important man is the Duke of Argyll these days, I may tell +you, as the king's army hath discovered before this. You see, I have not +talked with my brother about these things for naught." + +"So you make excuse for this Mr. Law of Lauriston," said Mary Connynge. +"Well, I like better a knight who comes on his own horse, or in his own +chariot, and who rescues me when I am in trouble, rather than asks me to +give him aid. But, as to that, what matter? We set those highway +travelers down, and there was an end of it. We shall never see either of +them again." + +"Of course not," said Lady Catharine. + +"It were impossible." + +"Oh, quite impossible!" + +Both the young women sighed, and both looked out of the window. + +"Because," said Mary Connynge, "they are but strangers. That talk of +having letters may be but deceit. They themselves may be coiners. I have +heard it said that coiners are monstrous bold." + +"To be sure, he mentioned Sir Arthur Pembroke," ventured Lady +Catharine. + +"Oh! And be sure Sir Arthur Pembroke will take pains enough that no tall +young man, who offers roses to ladies on first acquaintance, shall ever +have opportunity to present himself to Lady Catharine Knollys. Nay, nay! +There will be no introduction from that source, of that be sure. Sir +Arthur is jealous as a wolf of thee already, Lady Kitty. See! He hath +followed thee about like a dog for three years. And after all, why not +reward him, Lady Kitty? Indeed, but the other day thou wert upon the +very point of giving him his answer, for thou saidst to me that he sure +had the prettiest eyes of any man in London. Pray, are Sir Arthur's eyes +blue, or gray--or what? And can you match his eyes among the color of +your flosses?" + +"It might be," said Lady Catharine, musingly, "that he would some day +find means to send us word." + +"Who? Sir Arthur?" + +"No. The young man, Mr. Law of Lauriston." + +"Yes; or he might come himself," replied Mary Connynge. + +"Fie! He dare not!" + +"Oh, but be not too sure. Now suppose he did come--'twill do no harm for +us to suppose so much as that. Suppose he stood there at your very +door, Lady Kitty. Then what would you do?" + +"Do! Why, tell James that we were not in, and never should be, and +request the young man to leave at once." + +"And never let him pass the door again." + +"Certainly not! 'Twould be presumption. But then"--this with a gentle +sigh--"we need not trouble ourselves with this. I doubt not he hath +forgot us long ago, just as indeed we have forgotten him--though I would +say--. But I half believe he hit thee, girl, with his boldness and his +bow, and his fearlessness withal." + +"Who, I? Why, heavens! Lady Kitty! The idea never came to my mind. +Indeed no, not for an instant. Of course, as you say, 'twas but a +passing occurrence, and 'twas all forgot. But, by the way, Lady Kitty, +go we to Sadler's Wells to-morrow morn?" + +"I see no reason for not going," replied Lady Catharine. "And we may +drive about, the same way we took the other morn. I will show you the +same spot where he stood and bowed so handsomely, and made so little of +the fight with the robbers the night before, as though 'twere trifling +enough; and made so little of his poverty, as though he were owner of +the king's coin." + +"But we shall never see him more," said Mary Connynge. + +"To be sure not. But just to show you--see! He stood thus, his hat off, +his eye laughing, I pledge you, as though for some good jest he had. And +'twas 'your pardon, ladies!' he said, as though he were indeed nobleman +himself. See! 'Twas thus." + +What pantomime might have followed did not appear, for at that moment +the butler appeared at the door with an admonitory cough. "If you +please, your Ladyship," said he, "there are two persons waiting. +They--that is to say, he--one of them, asks for admission to your +Ladyship." + +"What name does he offer, James?" + +"Mr. John Law of Lauriston, your Ladyship, is the name he sends. He +says, if your Ladyship please, that he has brought with him something +which your Ladyship left behind, if your Ladyship please." + +Lady Catharine and Mary Connynge had both arisen and drawn together, and +they now turned each a swift half glance upon the other. + +"Are these gentlemen waiting without the street door?" asked Lady +Catharine. + +"No, your Ladyship. That is to say, before I thought, I allowed the tall +one to come within." + +"Oh, well then, you see, Mary Connynge," replied Lady Catharine, with +the pink flush rising in her cheek, "it were rude to turn them now from +our door, since they have already been admitted." + +"Yes, we will send to the library for your brother," said Mary Connynge, +dimpling at the corners of her mouth. + +"No, I think it not needful to do that," replied Lady Catharine, "but we +should perhaps learn what this young man brings, and then we'll see to +it that we chide him so that he'll no more presume upon our kindness. My +brother need not know, and we ourselves will end this forwardness at +once, Mary Connynge, you and I. James, you may bring the gentlemen in." + +Enter, therefore, John Law and his brother Will, the former seeming thus +with ease to have made good his promise to win past the door of the Earl +of Banbury. + +John Law, as on the morning of the roadside meeting, approached in +advance of his more timid brother, though both bowed deeply as they +entered. He bowed again respectfully, his eyes not wandering hither and +yon upon the splendors of this great room in an ancestral home of +England. His gaze was fixed rather upon the beauty of the tall girl +before him, whose eyes, now round and startled, were not quite able to +be cold nor yet to be quite cast down; whose white throat throbbed a bit +under its golden chain; whose bosom rose and fell perceptibly beneath +its falls of snowy laces. + +"Lady Catharine Knollys," said John Law, his voice deep and even, and +showing no false note of embarrassment, "we come, as you may see, to +make our respects to yourself and your friend, and to thank you for your +kindness to two strangers." + +"To two strangers, Mr. Law," said Lady Catharine, pointedly. + +"Yes"--and the answering smile was hard to be denied--"to two strangers +who are still strangers. I did but bethink me it was sweet to have such +kindness. We were advised that London was cruel cold, and that all folk +of this city hated their fellow-men. So, since 'twas welcome to be thus +kindly entreated, I believed it but the act of courtesy to express our +thanks more seeming than we might as that we were two beggars by the +wayside. Therefore, I pay the first flower of my perpetual tribute." He +bowed and extended, as he spoke, a deep red rose. His eye, though still +direct, was as much imploring as it was bold. + +Instinctively Mary Connynge and Lady Catharine had drawn together, +retreating somewhat from this intrusion. They were now standing, like +any school girls, looking timidly over their shoulders, as he advanced. +Lady Catharine hesitated, and yet she moved forward a half pace, as +though bidden by some unheard voice. "'Twas nothing, what we did for you +and your brother," said she. She extended her hand as she spoke. "As for +the flower, I think--I think a rose is a sweet-pretty thing." + +She bent her cheek above the blossom, and whether the cheek or the petal +were the redder, who should say? If there were any ill at ease in that +room, it was not Law of Lauriston. He stood calm as though there by +right. It was an escapade, an adventure, without doubt, as both these +young women saw plainly enough. And now, what to do with this adventure +since it had arrived? + +"Sir," said Lady Catharine at length, "I am sure you must be wearied +with the heavy heats of the town. Your brother must still be weak from +his hurt. Pray you, be seated." She placed the rose upon the tabouret as +she passed, and presently pulled at the bell cord. + +"James," said she, standing very erect and full of dignity, "go to the +library and see if Sir Charles be within." + +When the butler's solemn cough again gave warning, it was to bring +information which may or may not have been news to Lady Catharine. "Your +Ladyship," said he, "Sir Charles is said to have taken carriage an hour +ago, and left no word." + +"Send me Cecile, James," said Lady Catharine, and again the butler +vanished. + +"Cecile," said she, as the maid at length appeared, "you may serve us +with tea." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +CATHARINE KNOLLYS + + +"You mistake, sir! I am no light o' love, John Law!" + +Thus spoke Catharine Knollys. She stood near the door of the great +drawing-room of the Knollys mansion, her figure beseeming well its +framing of deep hangings and rich tapestries. Her eyes were wide and +flashing, her cheeks deeply pink, the sweet bow of her lips half +a-quiver in her vehemence. Her surpassing personal beauty, rich, ripe, +enticing, gave more than sufficient challenge for the fiery blood of the +young man before her. + +It was less than two weeks since these two had met. Surely the flood of +time had run swiftly in those few days. Not a day had passed that Law +had not met Catharine Knollys, nor had yet one meeting been such as the +girl in her own conscience dared call better than clandestine, even +though they met, as now, under her own roof. Yet, reason as she liked, +struggle as she could, Catharine Knollys had not yet been quite able to +end this swift voyaging on the flood of fate. It was so strange, so new, +so sweet withal, this coming of her suitor, as from the darkness of some +unknown star, so bold, so strong, so confident, and yet so humble! All +the old song of the ages thrilled within her soul, and each day its +compelling melody had accession. That this delirious softening of all +her senses meant danger, the Lady Catharine could not deny. Yet could +aught of earth be wrong when it spelled such happiness, such +sweetness--when the sound of a footfall sent her blood going the faster, +when the sight of a tall form, the ring of a vibrant tone, caused her +limbs to weaken, her throat to choke? + +But ah! whence and why this spell, this sorcery--why this sweetness +filling all her being, when, after all, duty and seemliness bade it all +to end, as end it must, to-day? Thus had the Lady Catharine reflected +but the hour before John Law came; her knight of dreams--tall, +yellow-haired, blue-eyed, bold and tender, and surely speaking truth if +truth dwelt beneath the stars. Now he would come--now he had come again. +Here was his red, red rose once more. Here, burning in her ears, singing +in her heart, were his avowing, pleading words. And this must end! + +John Law looked at her calmly, but said nothing. One hand, in a gesture +customary with him, flicked lightly at the deep cuff of the other +wrist, and this nervous movement was the sole betrayal of his +uneasiness. + +"You come to this house time and again," resumed Catharine Knollys, "as +though it were an ancient right on your part, as though you had always +been a friend of this family. And yet--" + +"And so I have been," broke in her suitor. "My people were friends of +yours before we two were born. Why, then, should you advise your +servant, as you have, fairly to deny me admission at the door?" + +"I have done ill enough to admit you. Had I dreamed of this last +presumption on your part I should never have seen your face again." + +"'Tis not presumption," said the young man, his voice low and even, +though ringing with the feeling to which even he dared not give full +expression. "I myself might call this presumption in another, but with +myself 'tis otherwise." + +"Sir," said Lady Catharine Knollys, "you speak as one not of good mind." + +"Not of good mind!" broke out John Law. "Say rather of mind too good to +doubt, or dally, or temporize. Why, 'tis plain as the plan of fate! It +was in the stars that I should come to you. This face, this form, this +heart, this soul--I shall see nothing else so long as I live! Oh, I +feel myself unworthy; you have right to think me of no station. Yet some +day I shall bring to you all that wealth can buy, all that station can +mean. Catharine--dear Lady Kitty--dear Kate--" + +"I like not so fast a soothsaying in any suitor of mine," replied Lady +Catharine, hotly, "and this shall go no further." Her hand restrained +him. + +"Then you find me distasteful? You would banish me? I could not learn to +endure it!" + +Lady Catharine looked at him curiously. "Actually, sir," said she, "you +cause me to chill. I could half fear you. What is in your heart? Surely, +this is a strange love-making." + +"And by that," cried John Law, "know, then the better of the truth. +Listen! I know! And this is what I know--that I shall succeed, and that +I shall love you always!" + +"'Tis what one hears often from men, in one form or another," said the +girl, coolly, seating herself as she spoke. + +"Talk not to me of other men--I'll not brook it!" cried he, advancing +toward her a few rapid paces. "Think you I have no heart?" His eye +gleamed, and he came on yet a step in his strange wooing. "Your face is +here, here," he cried, "deep in my heart! I must always look upon it, or +I am a lost man!" + +"'Tis a face not so fair as that," said the Lady Catharine, demurely. + +"'Tis the fairest face in England, or in the world!" cried her lover; +and now he was close at her side. Her hand, she knew not how, rested in +his own. Something of the honesty and freedom from coquetry of the young +woman's nature showed in her next speech, inconsequent, illogical, +almost unmaidenly in its swift sincerity and candor. + +"'Tis a face but blemished," said she, slowly, the color rising to her +cheek. "See! Here is the birth-mark of the house of Knollys. They tell +me--my very good friends tell me, that this is the mark of shame, the +bar sinister of the hand of justice. You know the story of our house." + +"Somewhat of it," said Law. + +"My brother is not served of the writ when Parliament is called. This +you know. Tell me why?" + +"I know the so-called reason," replied John Law. "'Twas brought out in +his late case at the King's Bench." + +"True. 'Twas said that my grandfather, past eighty, was not the father +of those children of his second wife. There is talk that--" + +"'Twas three generations ago, this talk of the Knollys shortcoming. I am +not eighty. I am twenty-four, and I love you, Catharine Knollys." + +"It was three generations ago," said the Lady Catharine, slowly and +musingly, as though she had not heard the speech of her suitor. "Three +generations ago. Yet never since then hath there been clean name for the +Banbury estate. Never yet hath its peer sat in his rightful place in +Parliament. And never yet hath eldest daughter of this house failed to +show this mark of shame, this unpurged contempt for that which is +ordained. Surely it would seem fate holds us in its hands." + +"You tell me these things," said John Law, "because you feel it is right +to tell them. And I tell you of my future, as you tell me of your past. +Why? Because, Lady Catharine Knollys, it has already come to matter of +faith between us." + +The girl leaned back against the wall near which she had seated herself. +The young man bent forward, taking both her hands quietly in his own +now, and gazing steadily into her eyes. There was no triumph in his +gaze. Perhaps John Law had prescience of the future. + +"Oh, sir, I had far liefer I had never seen you," cried Catharine +Knollys, bending a head from whose eyes there dropped sudden tears. + +"Ah, dear heart, say anything but that!" + +"'Tis a hard way a woman must travel at best in this world," murmured +the Lady Catharine, with wisdom all unsuited to her youth. "But I can +not understand. I had thought that the coming of a lover was a joyous +thing, a time of happiness alone." + +"Ah, now, in the hour of mist can you not foresee the time of sunshine? +All life is before us, my sweet, all life. There is much for us to do, +there are so many, many days of love and happiness." + +But now the Lady Catharine Knollys veered again, with some sudden change +of the inner currents of the feminine soul. + +"I have gone far with you, Mr. Law," said she, suddenly disengaging her +hand. "Yet I did but give you insight of things which any man coming as +you have come should have well within his knowledge. Think not, sir, +that I am easy to be won. I must know you equally honest with myself. +And if you come to my regard, it must be step by step and stair by +stair. This is to be remembered." + +"I shall remember." + +"Go, then, and leave me for this time," she besought him. But still he +could not go, and still the Lady Catharine could not bid him more +sternly to depart. Youth--youth, and love, and fate were in that room; +and these would have their way. + +The beseeching gaze of an eye singular in its power rested on the girl, +a gaze filled with all the strange, half mandatory pleading of youth and +yearning. Once more there came a shift in the tidal currents of the +woman's heart. The Lady Catharine slowly became conscious of a delicious +helplessness, of a sinking and yielding which she could not resist. Her +head lost power to be erect. It slipped forward on a shoulder waiting as +by right. Her breath came in soft measure, and unconsciously a hand was +raised to touch the cheek pressed down to hers. John Law kissed her once +upon the lips. Suddenly, without plan--in spite of all plan--the seal of +a strange fate was set forever on her life! + +For a long moment they stood thus, until at length she raised a face +pale and sharp, and pushed back against his breast a hand that trembled. + +"'Tis wondrous strange," she whispered. + +"Ask nothing," said John Law, "fear nothing. Only believe, as I +believe." + +Neither John Law nor the Lady Catharine Knollys saw what was passing +just without the room. They did not see the set face which looked down +from the stairway. Through the open door Mary Connynge could see the +young man as he stepped out of the door, could see the conduct of the +girl now left alone in the drawing-room. She saw the Lady Catharine sink +down upon the seat, her head drooped in thought, her hand lying +languidly out before her. Pale now and distraught, the Lady Catharine +Knollys wist little of what went on before her. She had full concern +with the tumult which waged riot in her soul. + +Mary Connynge turned, and started back up the stair unseen. She paused, +her yellow eyes gone narrow, her little hand clutched tight upon the +rail. + +[Illustration] + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +IN SEARCH OF THE QUARREL + + +As Law turned away from the door of the Knollys mansion, he walked with +head bent forward, not looking upon the one hand or the other. He raised +his eyes only when a passing horseman had called thrice to him. + +"What!" cried Sir Arthur Pembroke. "I little looked to see you here, Mr. +Law. I thought it more likely you were engaged in other business--" + +"Meaning by that--?" + +"What should I mean, except that I supposed you preparing for your +little affair with Wilson?" + +"My little affair?" + +"Certainly, with Wilson, as I said. I saw our friend Castleton but now, +and he advised me of your promptness. He had searched for you for days, +he being chosen by Wilson for his friend--and said he had at last found +you in your lodgings. Egad! I have mistook your kidney completely. Never +in London was a duel brought on so swift. 'Fight? This afternoon!' said +you. Jove! but the young bloods laughed when they heard of it. 'Bloody +Scotland' is what they have christened you at the Green Lion. 'He said +to me,' said Charlie, 'that he was slow to find a quarrel, but since +this quarrel was brought home to him, 'twere meet 'twere soon finished. +He thought, forsooth, that four o'clock of the afternoon were late +enough.' Gad! But you might have given Wilson time at least for one more +dinner." + +"What do you mean?" exclaimed Law, mystified still. + +"Mean! Why, I mean that I've been scouring London to find you. My faith, +man, but thou'rt a sudden actor! Where caught you this unseemly haste?" + +"Sir Arthur," said the other, slowly, "you do me too much justice. I +have made no arrangement to meet Mr. Wilson, nor have I any wish to do +so." + +"Pish, man! You must not jest with me in such a case as this. 'Tis no +masquerading. Let me tell you, Wilson has a vicious sword, and a temper +no less vicious. You have touched him on his very sorest spot. He has +gone to meet you this very hour. His coach will be at Bloomsbury Square +this afternoon, and there he will await you. I promise you he is eager +as yourself. 'Tis too late now to accommodate this matter, even had you +not sent back so prompt and bold an answer." + +"I have sent him no answer at all!" cried Law. "I have not seen +Castleton at all." + +"Oh, come!" expostulated Sir Arthur, his face showing a flush of +annoyance. + +"Sir Arthur," continued Law, as he raised his head, "I am of the +misfortune to be but young in London, and I am in need of your +friendship. I find myself pressed for rapid transportation. Pray you, +give me your mount, for I must have speed. I shall not need the service +of your seconding. Indulge me now by asking no more, and wait until we +meet again. Give me the horse, and quickly." + +"But you must be seconded!" cried the other. "This is too unusual. +Consider!" Yet all the time he was giving a hand at the stirrup of Law, +who sprang up and was off before he had time to formulate his own +wonder. + +"Who and what is he?" muttered the young nobleman to himself as he gazed +after the retreating form. "He rides well, at least, as he does +everything else well. 'Till I return,' forsooth, 'till I return!' Gad! I +half wish you had never come in the first place, my Bloody Scotland!" + +As for Law, he rode swiftly, asking at times his way, losing time here, +gaining it again there, creating much hatred among foot folk by his +tempestuous speed, but giving little heed to aught save his own purpose. +In time he reached Bradwell Street and flung himself from his panting +horse in front of the dingy door of the lodging house. He rushed up the +stairs at speed and threw open the door of the little room. It was +empty. + +There was no word to show what his brother had done, whither he had +gone, when he would return. Around the lodgings in Bradwell Street lay a +great and unknown London, with its own secrets, its own hatreds, its own +crimes. A strange feeling of oncoming ill seized upon the heart of Law, +as he stood in the center of the dull little room, now suddenly grown +hateful to him. He dashed his hand upon the table, and stood so, scarce +knowing which way to turn. A foot sounded in the hallway, and he went to +the door. The ancient landlady confronted him. "Where has my brother +gone?" he demanded, fiercely, as she came into view along the +ill-lighted passage-way. + +"Gone, good sir?" said she, quaveringly. "Why, how should I know where +he has gone? More quality has been here this morning than ever I saw in +Bradwell Street in all my life. First comes a coach this morning, with +four horses as fine as the king's, and a man atop would turn your +blood, he was that solemn-like, sir. Then your brother was up here +alone, sir, and very still. I will swear he was never out of this room. +Then, but an hour ago, here comes another coach, as big as the first, +and yellower. And out of it steps another fine lord, and he bows to your +brother, and in they get, and off goes the coach. But, God help me, sir! +How should I know which way they went, or what should be their errand? +Methinks it must be some servant come from the royal palace. Sir, be you +two of the nobility? And if you be, why come you here to Bradwell +Street? Sir, I am but a poor woman. If you be not of the nobility, then +you must be either coiners or smugglers. Sir, I am bethought that you +are dangerous guests in my house. I am a poor woman, as you know." + +Law flung a coin at her as he sped through the hall and down the stair. +"'Twas to Bloomsbury Square," he said, as he sprang into saddle and set +heel to the flank of the good horse. "To Bloomsbury Square, then, and +fast!" + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE RUMOR OF THE QUARREL + + +Meantime, at the Knollys mansion, there were forthcoming other parts of +the drama of the day. The butler announced to Lady Catharine, still +sitting dreaming by the window, Sir Arthur Pembroke, now late arrived on +foot. Lady Catharine hesitated. "Show the gentleman to this room," she +said at length. + +Pembroke came forward eagerly as he entered. "Such a day of it, Lady +Kitty!" he exclaimed, impulsively. "You will pardon me for coming thus, +when I say I have just been robbed of my horse. 'Twas at your very door, +and methinks you must know the highwayman. I have come to tell you of +the news." + +"You don't mean--" + +"Yes, but I do! 'Twas no less than Mr. Law, of Scotland. He hath taken +my horse and gone off like a whirlwind, leaving me afoot and friendless, +save for your good self. I am begging a taste of tea and a little +biscuit, for I vow I am half famished." + +The Lady Catharine Knollys, in sheer reaction from the strain, broke out +into a peal of laughter. + +"Sure, he has strange ways about him, this same Mr. Law," said she. +"That young man would have come here direct, and would have made himself +quite at home, methinks, had he had but the first encouragement." + +"Gad! Lady Catharine, but he has a conceit of himself. Think you of what +he has done in his short stay here in town! First, as you know, he sat +at cards with two or three of us the other evening--Charlie Castleton, +Beau Wilson, myself and one or two besides. And what doth he do but +stake a bauble against good gold that he would make _sept et le va_." + +"And did it?" + +"And did it. Yes, faith, as though he saw it coming. Yet 'twas I who cut +and dealt the cards. Nor was that the half of it," he went on. "He let +the play run on till 'twas _seize et le va_, then _vingt-un et le va_, +then twenty-five. And, strike me! Lady Catharine, if he sat not there +cool as my Lord Speaker in the Parliament, and saw the cards run to +_trente et le va_, as though 'twere no more to him than the eating of an +orange!" + +"And showed no anxiety at all?" + +"None, as I tell you, and he proved to us plain that he had not +two-pence to his name, for that he had been robbed the night before +while on his way to town. He staked a diamond, a stone of worth. I must +say, his like was never seen at cards." + +"He hath strange quality." + +"That you may say. Now read me some farther riddles of this same young +man. He managed to win from me a little shoe of an American savage, +which I had bought at a good price but the day before. It came to idle +talk of ladies' shoes, and wagers--well, no matter; and so Mr. Law +brought on a sudden quarrel with Beau Wilson. Then, though he seemed not +wanting courage, he half declined to face Wilson on the field. Sudden +to change as ever, this very morning he sent word to Wilson by Mr. +Castleton that he was ready to meet him at four this afternoon. God save +us! what a haste was there! And now, to cap it all, he hath taken my +horse from me and ridden off to keep an appointment which he says he +never made! Gad! These he odd ways enough, and almost too keen for me to +credit. Why, 'twould not surprise me to hear that he had been here to +make love to the Lady Catharine Knollys, and to offer her the proceeds +of his luck at faro. And, strike me! if that same luck holds, he'll +have all the money in London in another fortnight! I wish him joy of +Wilson." + +"He may be hurt!" exclaimed the Lady Catharine, starting up. + +"Who? Beau Wilson?" exclaimed Sir Arthur. "Take no fear. He carries a +good blade." + +"Sir Arthur," said the girl, "is there no way to stop this foolish +matter? Is there not yet time?" + +"Why, as to that," said Sir Arthur, "it all depends upon the speed of my +own horse. I should think myself e'en let off cheaply if he took the +horse and rode on out of London, and never turned up again. Yet, I +bethink me, he has a way of turning up. If so, then we are too late. Let +him go. For me, I'd liefer sit me here with Lady Catharine, who, I +perceive, is about now to save my death of hunger, since now I see the +tea tray coming. Thank thee prettily." + +Lady Catharine poured for him with a hand none too steady. "Sir Arthur," +said she, "you know why I have this concern over such a quarrel. You +know well enough what the duello has cost the house of Knollys. Of my +uncles, four were killed upon this so-called field of honor. My +grandfather met his death in that same way. Another relative, before my +time, is reputed to have slain a friend in this same manner. As you +know, but three years ago, my brother, the living representative of our +family, had the misfortune to slay his kinsman in a duel which sprang +out of some little jest. I say to you, Sir Arthur, that this quarrel +must be stopped, and we must do thus much for our friends forthwith. It +must not go on." + +"For our friends! Our friends!" cried Sir Arthur. "Ah, ha! so you mean +that the old beau hath hit thee, too, with his ardent eye. Or--hang! +What--you mean not that this stranger, this Scotchman, is a friend of +yours?" + +"I speak but confusedly," said the Lady Catharine. "'Tis my prejudice +against such fighting, as you know. Can we not make haste, and so +prevent this meeting?" + +"Oh, I doubt if there be much need of haste," said Sir Arthur, balancing +his cup in his hand judicially. "This matter will fall through at most +for the day. They assuredly can not meet until to-morrow. This will be +the talk of London, if it goes on in this pell-mell, hurly-burly +fashion. As to the stopping of it--well now, the law under William and +Mary saith that one who slays another in a duel of premeditation is +nothing but a murderer, and may be hanged like any felon; hanged by the +neck, till he be dead. Alas, what a fate for this pretty Scotchman!" + +Sir Arthur paused. A look of wonder swept across his face. "Open the +window, Annie!" he cried suddenly to the servant. "Your mistress is +ill." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +AS CHANCE DECREED + + +Mischance delayed the carriage of Beau Wilson in its journeying to +Bloomsbury Square. It had not appeared at that moment, far toward +evening, when John Law, riding a trembling and dripping steed, came upon +one side of this little open common and gazed anxiously across the +space. He saw standing across from him a carriage, toward which he +dashed. He flung open the carriage door, crying out, even before he saw +the face within. + +"Will! Will Law, I say, come out!" called he. "What mad trick is this? +What--" + +He saw indeed the face of Will Law inside the carriage, a face pale, +melancholy, and yet firm. + +"Get you back into the city!" cried Will Law. "This is no place for you, +Jack." + +"Boy! Are you mad, entirely mad?" cried Law, pushing his way directly +into the carriage and reaching out with an arm of authority for the +sword which he saw resting beside his brother against the seat. "No +place for me! 'Tis no place for you, for either of us. Turn back. This +foolishness must go no further!" + +"It must go on now to the end," said Will Law, wearily. "Mr. Wilson's +carriage is long past due." + +"But you--what do you mean? You've had no hand in this. Even had +you--why, boy, you would be spitted in an instant by this fellow." + +"And would not that teach you to cease your mad pranks, and use to +better purpose the talents God hath given you? Yours is the better +chance, Jack." + +"Peace!" cried John Law, tears starting to his eyes. "I'll not argue +that. Driver, turn back for home!" + +The coachman at the box touched his hat with a puzzled air. "I beg +pardon, sir," said he, "but I was under orders of the gentleman inside." + +"You were sent for Mr. John Law." + +"For Mr. Law--" + +"But I am John Law, sirrah!" + +"You are both Mr. Law? Well, sir, I scarce know which of you is the +proper Mr. Law. But I must say that here comes a coach drove fast +enough, and perhaps this is the gentleman I was to wait for, according +to the first Mr. Law, sir." + +"He is coming, then," cried John Law, angrily. "I'll see into this +pretty meeting. If this devil's own fool is to have a crossing of steel, +I'll fair accommodate him, and we'll look into the reasons for it later. +Sit ye down! Be quiet, Will, boy, I say!" + +Law was a powerful man, over six feet in height. The sports of the +Highlands, combined with much fencing and continuous play in the tennis +court, indeed his ardent love for every hardy exercise, had given his +form alike solid strength and great activity. "Jessamy Law," they called +him at home, in compliment of his slender though full and manly form. +Cool and skilful in all the games of his youth, as John Law himself had +often calmly stated, in fence he had a knowledge amounting to science, a +knowledge based upon the study of first principles. The intricacies of +the Italian school were to him an old story. With the single blade he +had never yet met his master. Indeed, the thought of successful +opposition seemed never to occur to him at all. Certainly at this +moment, angered at the impatient insolence of his adversary, the thought +of danger was farthest from his mind. Stronger than his brother, he +pushed the latter back with one hand, grasping as he did so the +small-sword with which the latter was provided. With one leap he sprang +from the carriage, leaving Will half dazed and limp within. + +Even as he left the carriage step, he found himself confronted with an +adversary eager as himself; for at that instant Beau Wilson was +hastening from his coach. Vain, weak and pompous in a way, yet lacking +not in a certain personal valor, Beau Wilson stopped not for his +seconds, tarried not to catch the other's speech, but himself strode +madly onward, his point raised slightly, as though he had lost all care +and dignity and desired nothing so much as to stab his enemy as swiftly +as might be. + +It would have mattered nothing now to this Highlander, this fighting +Argyll, what had been the reason animating his opponent. It was enough +that he saw a weapon bared. Too late, then, to reason with John Law, +"Beau" Law of Edinboro', "Jessamy" Law, the best blade and the coolest +head in all the schools of arms that taught him fence. + +For a moment Law paused and raised his point, whether in query or in +salute the onlookers scarce could tell. Sure it was that Wilson was the +first to fall into the assault. Scarce pausing in his stride, he came on +blindly, and, raising his own point, lunged straight for his opponent's +breast. Sad enough was the fate which impelled him to do this thing. + +It was over in an instant. It could not be said that there was an +actual encounter. The side step of the young Highlander was soft as that +of a panther, as quick, and yet as full of savagery. The whipping over +of his wrist, the gliding, twining, clinging of his blade against that +of his enemy was so swift that eye could scarce have followed it. The +eye of Beau Wilson was too slow to catch it or to guard. He never +stopped the _riposte_, and indeed was too late to attempt any guard. +Pierced through the body, Wilson staggered back, clapping his hands +against his chest. Over his face there swept a swift series of changes. +Anger faded to chagrin, that to surprise, surprise to fright, and that +to gentleness. + +"Sir," said he, "you've hit me fair, and very hard. I pray you, some +friend, give me an arm." + +And so they led him to his carriage, and took him home a corpse. Once +more the code of the time had found its victim. + +Law turned away from the coach of his smitten opponent, turned away with +a face stern and full of trouble. Many things revolved themselves in his +mind as he stepped slowly towards the carriage, in which his brother +still sat wringing his hands in an agony of perturbation. + +"Jack, Jack!" cried Will Law, "Oh, heavens! You have killed him! You +have killed a man! What shall we do?" + +Law raised his head and looked his brother in the face, but seemed +scarce to hear him. Half mechanically he was fumbling in the side pocket +of his coat. He drew forth from it now a peculiar object, at which he +gazed intently and half in curiosity, It was the little beaded shoe of +the Indian woman, the very object over which this ill-fated quarrel had +arisen, and which now seemed so curiously to intermingle itself with his +affairs. + +"'Twas a slight shield enough," he said slowly to himself, "yet it +served. But for this little piece of hide, methinks there might be two +of us going home to-day to take somewhat of rest." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +FOR FELONY + + +Late in the afternoon of the day following the encounter in Bloomsbury +Square, a little group of excited loiterers filled the entrance and +passage way at 59 Bradwell Street, the former lodgings of the two young +gentlemen from Scotland. The motley assemblage seemed for the most part +to make merry at the expense of a certain messenger boy, who bore a long +wicker box, which presently he shifted from his shoulder to a more +convenient resting place on the curb. + +"Do 'ee but look at un," said one ancient dame. "He! he! Hath a parcel +of fine clothes for the tall gentleman was up in third floor! He! he! +Clothes for Mr. Law, indeed!" + +"Fine clothes, eh?" cried another, a portly dame of certain years. "Much +fine clothes he'll need where he'm gone." + +"Yes, indeed, that he will na. Bad luck 'twas to Mary Cullen as took un +into her house. Now she's no lodging money for her rooms, and her +lodgers be both in Newgate; least ways, one of un." + +"Ah now, 'tis a pity for Mary Cullen, she do need the money so much--" + +"Shut ye all your mouths, the lot o' you," cried Mary Cullen herself, +appearing at the door. "'Tis not she is needing the little money, for +she has it right here in the corner of her apron. Every stiver Mary +Cullen's young men said they'd pay they paid, like the gentlemen they +were. I'll warrant the raggle of ye would do well to make out fine as +Mary Cullen hath." + +"Oh now, is that true, Mary Cullen?" said a voice. "'Twas said that +these two were noble folk come here for the sport of it." + +"What else but true? Do you never know the look of gentry? My fakes, +I'll warrant the young gentleman is back within a fortnight. His +brother, the younger one, said to me hisself but this very morn, his +brother was hinnocent as a child; that he was obliged to strike the +other man for fear of his own life. Now, what can judge do but turn un +loose? Four sovereigns he gave me this very morn. What else can judge do +but turn un free? Tell me that, now!" + +"Let's see the fine clothes," said the first old lady to the apprentice +boy, reaching out a hand and pulling at the corner of the box-lid. The +youth was nothing loath to show, with professional pride, the quality of +his burden, and so raised the lid. + +"Land save us! 'Tis gentry sure enough they are," cried the inquisitive +one. "Do-a look in there! Such clothes and laces, such a brand new wig, +such silken hose! Law o' land! Must have cost all of forty crowns. Mary +Cullen, right ye are; 'twas quality ye had with ye, even if 'twas but +for little while." + +"And them gone to prison, him on trial for his life! I saw un ride out +this very yesterday, fast as though the devil was behind un, and a finer +body of a man never did I look at in my life. What pity 'tis, what pity +'tis!" + +"Well," said the apprentice, with a certain superiority in his air. "I +dare wait no longer. My master said the gentleman was to have the +clothes this very afternoon. So if to prison he be gone, to prison must +I go too." Upon which he set off doggedly, and so removed one of the +main causes for the assemblage at the curb. + +The apprentice was hungry and weary enough before he reached the somber +portals, yet his insistence won past gate-keeper and turnkey, one after +another, till at length he reached the jailer who adjudged himself fit +to pass upon the stolid demand that the messenger be admitted with the +parcel for John Law, Esquire, late of Bradwell Street, marked urgent, +and collect fifty sovereigns. The humor of all this appealed to the +jailer mightily. + +"Send him along," he said. And the boy came in, much dismayed but still +faithful to his trust. + +"Please, sir," said the youth, "I would know if ye have John Law, +Esquire, in this place; and if so, I would see him. Master said I was +not to bring back this parcel till that I had seen John Law, Esquire, +and got from him fifty sovereigns. 'Tis for his wedding, sir, and the +clothes are of the finest." + +The jailer smiled grimly. "Mr. Law gets presents passing soon," said he. +"Set down your box. It might be weapons or the like." + +"Some clothes," said the apprentice. "Some very fine clothes. They are +of our best." + +"Ha! ha!" roared the jailer. "Here indeed be a pretty jest. Much need +he'll have of fine clothes here. He'll soon take his coat off the rack +like the rest, and happen it fits him, very well. Take back your box, +boy--or stay, let's have a look in't." + +The jailer was a man not devoid of wisdom. Fine clothes sometimes went +with a long purse, and a long purse might do wonders to help the comfort +of any prisoner in London, as well as the comfort of his keeper. Truly +his eyes opened wide as he saw the contents of the box. He felt the +lapel of the coat, passing it approvingly between his thumb and finger. +"Well, e'en set ye down the box, lad," said he, "and wait till I see +where Mr. Law has gone. Hum, hum! What saith the record? Charged that +said prisoner did kill--hum, hum! Taken of said John Law six sovereigns, +three shillings and sixpence. Item, one snuff-box, gilt. Hour of +admission, five o'clock of the afternoon. We shall see, we shall see." + +"Sir," said the jailer, approaching the prisoner and his brother, who +both remained in the detention room, "a lad hath arrived bearing a +parcel for John Law, Esquire. 'Tis not within possibility that you have +these goods, but we would know what disposition we shall make of them." + +"By my faith!" cried Law, "I had entirely forgot my haberdasher." + +The jailer stood on one foot and gave a cough, unnecessarily loud but +sufficiently significant. It was enough for the quick wit of Law. + +"There was fifty sovereigns on the charge list," said the jailer. + +"Sixty sovereigns, I heard you say distinctly," replied Law. "Will, give +me thy purse, man!" + +Will Law obeyed automatically. + +"There," said John Law to the jailer. "I am sure the garments will be +very proper. Is it not all very proper?" + +The turnkey looked calmly into the face of his prisoner and as calmly +replied: "It is, sir, as you say, very proper." + +"It would be much relief," said John Law, as the turnkey again appeared, +bearing the box in his own hands, "if I might don my new garments. I +would liefer make a good showing for thy house, friend, and can not, in +this garb." + +"Sirrah," said the jailer, "there be rules of this place, as you very +well know. Your little chamber was to have been in corridor number four, +number twelve of the left aisle. But, sir, as perhaps you know, there be +rules which are rules, and rules which are not so much--that is to +say--rules, as you might put it, sir. The main thing is that I produce +your body on the day of the hearing, which cometh soon. Meantime, since +you seem a gentleman, and are in for no common felony, but charged, as I +might say, with a light offense, why, sir, in such a case, I might say +that a gentleman like yourself, if he cared to wear a bit of good +clothes and wear it here in the parlor like, why, sir, I can see no harm +in it. And that's competent to prove, as the judge says." + +"Very well, then," said Law, "I'll e'en deck out with the gear I should +have had to-night had I been free; though I fear my employment this +evening will scarce be pleasing as that which I had planned. Will, had I +had but one more night at the Green Lion, we'd e'en have needed a +special chair to carry home my winnings of their English gold." + +Enter then, a few moments later, "Beau" Law, "Jessamy" Law, late of +Edinboro', gentleman, and a right gallant figure of a man. Tall he was +indeed, and, so clad, making a picture of superb manhood. Ease and grace +he showed in every movement. His long fingers closed lightly at top of a +lacquered cane which he had found within the box. Deep ruffles of white +hung down from his wrists, and a fall of wide lace drooped from the +bosom of his ruffled shirt. His wig, deep curled and well whitened, gave +a certain austerity to his mien. At his instep sparkled new buckles of +brilliants, rising above which sprang a graceful ankle, a straight and +well-rounded leg. The long lapels of his rich coat hung deep, and the +rich waistcoat of plum-colored satin added slimness to a torso not too +bulky in itself. Neat, dainty, fastidious, "Jessamy" Law, late of +Edinboro', for some weeks of London, and now of a London prison, scarce +seemed a man about to be put on trial for his life. + +He advanced from the door of the side room with ease and dignity. +Reaching out a snuff-box which he had found in the silken pocket of his +new garment, he extended it to the turnkey with an indifferent gesture. + +"Kindly have it filled with maccaboy," he said. "See, 'tis quite empty, +and as such, 'tis useless." + +"Certainly, Captain Law," said the turnkey. "I am a man as knows what a +gentleman likes, and many a one I've had here in my day, sir. As it +chances, I've a bit of the best in my own quarters, and I'll see that +you have what you like." + +"Will," said Law to his brother, who had scarce moved during all this, +"come, cheer up! One would think 'twas thyself was to be inmate here, +and not another." + +Will Law burst into tears. + +"God knows, 'twere better myself, and not thee, Jack," he said. + +"Pish! boy, no more of that! 'Twas as chance would have it. I'm never +meant for staying here. Come, take this letter, as I said, and make +haste to carry it. 'Twill serve nothing to have you moping here. Fare +you well, and see that you sleep sound." + +Will Law turned, obedient as ever to the commands of the superior mind. +He passed out through the heavily-guarded door as the turnkey swung it +for him; passed out, turned and looked back. He saw his brother standing +there, easy, calm, indifferent, a splendid figure of a man. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE MESSAGE + + +To Will Law, as he turned away from the prison gate upon the errand +assigned to him, the vast and shapeless shadows of the night-covered +city took the form of appalling monsters, relentless, remorseless, +savage of purpose. He passed, as one in some hideous dream, along +streets that wound and wound until his brain lost distance and +direction. It might have been an hour, two hours, and the clock might +have registered after midnight, when at last he discovered himself in +front of the dark gray mass of stone which the chairmen assured him was +his destination. It was with trepidation that he stepped to the +half-lighted door and fumbled for the knocker. The door slowly swung +open, and he was confronted by the portly presence of a lackey who stood +in silence waiting for his word. + +"A message for Lady Catharine Knollys," said Will, with what courage he +could summon. "'Tis of importance, I make no doubt." For it was to the +Lady Catharine that John Law had first turned. His heart craved one +more sight of the face so beloved, one more word from the voice which so +late had thrilled his soul. Away from these--ah! that was the prison for +him, these were the bars which to him seemed imperatively needful to be +broken. Aid he did not think of asking. Only, across London, in the +night, he had sent the cry of his heart: "Come to me!" + +"The Lady Catharine is not in at this hour," said the butler, with, some +asperity, closing the door again in part. + +"But 'tis important. I doubt if 'twill bear the delay of a night." +Indeed, Will Law had hitherto hardly paused to reflect how unusual was +this message, from such a person, to such address, and at such an hour. + +The butler hesitated, and so did the unbidden guest at the door. Neither +heard at first the light rustle of garments at the head of the stair, +nor saw the face bent over the balustrade in the shadows of the hall. + +"What is it, James?" asked a voice from above. + +"A message for the Lady Catharine," replied the servant. "Said to be +important. What should I do?" + +"Lady Catharine Knollys is away," said the soft voice of Mary Connynge, +speaking from the stair. Her voice came nearer as she now descended and +appeared at the first landing. + +"We may crave your pardon, sir," said she, "that we receive you so ill, +but the hour is very late. Lady Catharine is away, and Sir Charles is +forth also, as usual, at this time. I am left proxy for my entertainers, +and perhaps I may serve you in this case. Therefore pray step within." + +Reluctantly the butler swung open the door and admitted the visitor. +Will Law stood face to face with Mary Connynge, just from her boudoir, +and with time for but half care as to the details of her toilet; yet +none the less Mary Connynge, Eve-like, bewitching, endowed with all the +ancient wiles of womankind. Will Law gazed, since this was his fate. +Unconsciously the sorcery of the sight enfolded the youth as he stood +there uncertainly. He saw the round throat, the heavy masses of the dark +hair, the full round form. He noted, though he could not define; felt, +though he could not classify. He was young. Utterly helpless might have +been even an older man in the hands of Mary Connynge at a time like +this, Mary Connynge deliberately seeking to ensnare. + +"Pardon this robe, but half concealing," said her drooping eye and her +half uplifted hands which caught the defining folds yet closer to her +bosom. "'Tis in your chivalry I trust. I would not so with others." This +to the beholder meant that he was the one man on earth to whom so much +could be conceded. + +Therefore, following to his own undoing, as though led by some actual +command, while but bidden gently by the softest voice in all the +kingdom, the young man entered the great drawing-room and waited as the +butler lessened the shadows by the aid of candles. He saw the smallest +foot in London just peep in and out, suddenly withdrawn as Mary Connynge +sat her down. + +She held the message now in her hand. In her soul sat burning +impatience, in her heart contempt for the callow youth before her. Yet +to that youth her attitude seemed to speak naught but deference for +himself and doubt for this unusual situation. + +"Sir, I am in some hesitation," said Mary Connynge. "There is indeed +none in the house except the servants. You say your message is of +importance--" + +"It has indeed importance," responded Will. "It comes from my brother." + +"Your brother, Mr. Law?" + +"From my brother, John Law. He is in trouble. I make no doubt the +message will set all plain." + +"'Tis most grievous that Lady Catharine return not till to-morrow." + +Mary Connynge shifted herself upon her seat, caught once more with swift +modesty at the robe which fell from her throat. She raised her eyes and +turned them full upon the visitor. Never had the spell of curve and +color, never had the language of sex addressed this youth as it did now. +Intoxicating enough was this vague, mysterious speech even at this +inappropriate time. The girl knew that the mesh had fallen well. She but +caught again at her robe, and cast down again her eyes, and voiced again +her assumed anxiety. "I scarce know what to do," she murmured. + +"My brother did not explain--" said Will. + +"In that case," said Mary Connynge, her voice cool, though her soul was +hot with impatience, "it might perhaps be well if I took the liberty of +reading the message in Lady Catharine's absence. You say your brother is +in trouble?" + +"Of the worst. Madam, to make plain with you, he is in prison, charged +with the crime of murder." + +Mary Connynge sank back into her chair. The blood fled from her cheek. +Her hands caught each other in a genuine gesture of distress. + +"In prison! John Law! Oh heaven! tell me how?" Her voice was trembling +now. + +"My brother slew Mr. Wilson in a duel not of his own seeking. It +happened yesterday, and so swift I scarce can tell you. He took up a +quarrel which I had fixed to settle with Mr. Wilson myself. We all met +at Bloomsbury Square, my brother coming in great haste. Of a sudden, +after his fashion, he became enraged. He sprang from the carriage and +met Mr. Wilson. And so--they passed a time or so, and 'twas done. Mr. +Wilson died a few moments later. My brother was taken and lodged in +jail. There is said to be bitter feeling at the court over this custom +of dueling, and it has long been thought that an example would be made." + +"And this letter without doubt bears upon all this? Perhaps it might be +well if I made both of us owners of its contents." + +"Assuredly, I should say," replied Will, too distracted to take full +heed. + +The girl tore open the inclosure. She saw but three words, written +boldly, firmly, addressed to no one, and signed by no one. + +"Come to me!" Thus spoke the message. This was the summons that had +crossed black London town that night. + +Mary Connynge rose quickly to her feet, forgetting for the time the man +who stood before her. The instant demanded all the resources of her +soul. She fought to remain mistress of herself. A moment, and she +passed Will Law with swift foot, and gained again the stairway in the +hall, the letter still fast within her hand. Will Law had not time to +ask its contents. + +"There is need of haste," said she. "James, have up the calash at once. +Mr. Law, I crave your excuse for a time. In a moment I shall be ready to +go with you." + +In two minutes she was sobbing alone, her face down upon the bed. In +five, she was at the door, dressed, cloaked, smiling sweetly and ready +for the journey. And thus it was that, of two women who loved John Law, +that one fared on to see him for whom he had not sent. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +PRISONERS + + +The turnkey at the inner door was slothful, sleepy and ill disposed to +listen when he heard that certain callers would be admitted to the +prisoner John Law. + +"Tis late," said he, "and besides, 'tis contrary to the rules. Must not +a prison have rules? Tell me that!" + +"We have come to arrange for certain matters regarding Mr. Law's +defense," said Mary Connynge, as she threw back her cloak and bent upon +the turnkey the full glance of her dark eye. "Surely you would not deny +us." + +The turnkey looked at Will Law with a hesitation in his attitude. "Why, +this gentleman I know," he began. + +"Yes; let us in," cried Will Law, with sudden energy. "'Tis time that we +took steps to set my brother free." + +"True, so say they all, young master," replied the turnkey, grinning. +"'Tis easy to get ye in, but passing hard to get ye out again. Yet, +since the young man ye wish to see is a very decent gentleman, and +knoweth well the needs of a poor working body like myself, we will take +the matter under advisement, as the court saith, forsooth." + +They passed through the heavy gates, down a narrow and heavy-aired +passage, and finally into a naked room. It was here, in such somber +surroundings, that Mary Connynge saw again the man whose image had been +graven on her heart ever since that morn at Sadler's Wells. How her +heart coveted him, how her blood leaped for him--these things the Mary +Connynges of the world can tell, they who own the primeval heart of +womankind. + +When John Law himself at length entered the room, he stepped forward at +first confidently, eagerly, though with surprise upon his face. Then, +with a sudden hesitation, he looked sharply at the figure which he saw +awaiting him in the dingy room. His breath came sharp, and ended in a +sigh. For a half moment his face flushed, his brow showed question and +annoyance. Yet rapidly, after his fashion, he mastered himself. + +"Will," said he, calmly, to his brother, "kindly ask the coachman to +wait for this lady." + +He stood for a moment gazing after the form of his brother as it +disappeared in the outer shadows. For this half-moment he took swift +counsel of himself. It was a face calm and noncommittal that he turned +toward the girl who sat now in the darkest corner of the room, her head +cast down, her foot beating a signal of perturbation upon the floor. +From the corner of her eye Mary Connynge saw him, a tall and manly man, +superbly clad, faultless in physique and raiment from top to toe. He +stood as though ready to step into his carriage for some voyage to rout +or ball. Youth, vigor, self-reliance, confidence, this was the whole +message of the splendid figure. The blood of Mary Connynge, this +survival, this half-savage woman, unregulated, unsubdued, leaped high +within her bosom, fled to her face, gave color to her cheek and +brightness to her eye. Her breath shortened after feline fashion. Deep +was calling unto deep, ancient unto ancient, primitive unto primitive. +Without the gate of London prison there was one abject prisoner. Within +its gates there were two prisoners, and one of them was slave for life! + +"Madam," said John Law, in deep and vibrant tone, "you will pardon me if +I say that it gives me surprise to see you here." + +"Yes; I have come," said the girl, not logically. + +"You bring, perhaps, some message?" + +"I--I brought a message." + +"It is from the Lady Catharine?" + +Mary Connynge was silent for a moment. It was necessary that, at least +for a moment, the poison of some æons should distil. There was need of +savagery to say what she proposed to say. The voice of training, of +civilization, of unselfishness, of friendship raised a protest. Wait +then for a moment. Wait until the bitterness of an ambitious and +unrounded life could formulate this evil impulse. Wait, till Mary +Connynge could summon treachery enough to slay her friend. And yet, wait +only until the primitive soul of Mary Connynge should become altogether +imperative in its demands! For after all, was not this friend a woman, +and is not the earth builded as it is? And hath not God made male and +female its inhabitants; and as there is war of male and male, is there +not war of female and female, until the end of time? + +"I came from the Lady Catharine," said Mary Connynge, slowly, "but I +bring no message from her of the sort which perhaps you wished." It was +a desperate, reckless lie, a lie almost certain of detection yet it was +the only resource of the moment, and a moment later it was too late to +recall. One lie must now follow another, and all must make a deadly +coil. + +"Madam, I am sorry," said John Law, quietly, yet his face twitched +sharply at the impact of these cutting words. "Did you know of my letter +to her?" + +"Am I not here?" said Mary Connynge. + +"True, and I thank you deeply. But how, why-pray you, understand that I +would be set right. I would not undergo more than is necessary. Will you +not explain?" + +"There is but little to explain--little, though it may mean much. It +must be private. Your brother--he must never know. Promise me not to +speak to him of this." + +"This means much to me, I doubt not, my dear lady," said John Law. "I +trust I may keep my counsel in a matter which comes so close to me." + +"Yes, truly," replied Mary Connynge, "if you had set your heart upon a +kindly answer." + +"What! You mean, then, that she--" + +"Do you promise?" + +The brows of Law settled deeper and deeper into the frown which marked +him when he was perturbed. The blood, settled back, now slowly mounted +again into his face, the resentful, fighting blood of the Highlander. + +"I promise," he cried. "And now, tell me what answer had the Lady +Catharine Knollys." + +"She declined to answer," said Mary Connynge, slowly and evenly. +"Declined to come. She said that she was ill enough pleased to hear of +your brawling. Said that she doubted not the law would punish you, nor +doubted that the law was just." + +John Law half whirled upon his heel, smote his hands together and +laughed loud and bitterly. + +"Madam," said he, "I had never thought to say it to a woman, but in very +justice I must tell you that I see quite through this shallow +falsehood." + +"Sir," said Mary Connynge, her hands clutching at the arms of her chair, +"this is unusual speech to a lady!" + +"But your story, Madam, is most unusual." + +"Tell me, then, why should I be here?" burst out the girl. "What is it +to me? Why should I care what the Lady Catharine says or does? Why +should I risk my own name to come of this errand in the night? Now let +me pass, for I shall leave you." + +Tho swift jealous rage of Mary Connynge was unpremeditated, yet nothing +had better served her real purpose. The stubborn nature of Law was ever +ready for a challenge. He caught her arm, and placed her not unkindly +upon the chair. + +"By heaven, I half believe what you say is true!" said he, as though to +himself. + +"Yet you just said 'twas false," said the girl, her eyes flashing. + +"I meant that what you add is true, and hence the first also must be +believed. Then you saw my message?" + +"I did, since it so fell out." + +"But you did not read the real message. I asked no aid of any one for my +escape. I but asked her to come. In sheer truth, I wished but to see +her." + +"And by what right could you expect that?" + +"I asked her as my affianced wife," replied John Law. + +Mary Connynge stood an inch taller, as she sprang to her feet in sudden +scorn and bitterness. + +"Your affianced wife!" cried she. "What! So soon! Oh, rare indeed must +be my opinion of this Lady Catharine!" + +"It was never my way to waste time on a journey," said John Law, coolly. + +"Your wife, your affianced wife?" + +"As I said." + +"Yes," cried Mary Connynge, bitterly, and again, unconsciously and in +sheer anger, falling upon that course which best served her purpose. +"And what manner of affianced wife is it would forsake her lover at the +first breath of trouble? My God! 'tis then, it seems to me, a woman +would most swiftly fly to the man she loved." + +John Law turned slowly toward her, his eyes scanning her closely from +top to toe, noting the heaving of her bosom, the sparkling of her +gold-colored eye, now darkened and half ready to dissolve in tears. He +stood as though he were a judge, weighing the evidence before him, +calmly, dispassionately. + +"Would you do so much as that, Mary Connynge?" asked John Law. + +"I, sir?" she replied. "Then why am I here to-night myself? But, God pity +me, what have I said? There is nothing but misfortune in all my life!" + +It was one rebellious, unsubdued nature speaking to another, and of the +two each was now having its own sharp suffering. The instant of doubt is +the time of danger. Then comes revulsion, bitterness, despair, folly. +John Law trod a step nearer. + +"By God! Madam," cried he, "I would I might believe you. I would I might +believe that you, that any woman, would come to me at such a time! But +tell me--and I bethink me my message was not addressed, was even +unsigned--whom then may I trust? If this woman scorns my call at such a +time, tell me, whom shall I hold faithful? Who would come to me at any +time, in any case, in my trouble? Suppose my message were to you?" + +Mary Connynge stirred softly under her deep cloak. Her head was lifted +slightly, the curve of cheek and chin showing in the light that fell +from the little lamp. The masses of her dark hair lay piled about her +face, tumbled by the sweeping of her hood. Her eyes showed tremulously +soft and deep now as he looked into them. Her little hands half twitched +a trifle from her lap and reached forward and upward. Primitive she +might have been, wicked she was, sinfully sweet; and yet she was woman. +It was with the voice of tears that she spoke, if one might claim +vocalization for her speech. + +"Have I not come?" whispered she. + +"By God! Mary Connynge, yes, you have come!" cried Law. And though there +was heartbreak in his voice, it sounded sweet to the ear of her who +heard it, and who now reached up her arms about his neck. + +"Ah, John Law," said Mary Connynge, "when a woman loves--when a woman +loves, she stops at nothing!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +IF THERE WERE NEED + + +Time wore on in the ancient capital of England. The tramp of troops +echoed in the streets, and the fleets of Britain made ready to carry her +sons over seas for wars and for adventures. The intrigues of party +against party, of church against church, of Parliament against king; the +loves, the hates, the ambitions, the desires of all the city's hurrying +thousands went on as ever. Who, then, should remember a single prisoner, +waiting within the walls of England's jail? The hours wore on slowly +enough for that prisoner. He had faced a jury of his peers and was +condemned to face the gallows. Meantime he had said farewell to love and +hope and faithfulness, even as he bade farewell to life. "Since she has +forsaken me whom I thought faithful," said he to himself, "why, let it +end, for life is a mockery I would not live out." And thenceforth, +haggard but laughing, pale but with unbroken courage, he trod on his way +through his few remaining days, the wonder of those who saw him. + +As for Mary Connynge, surely she had matters enough which were best kept +secret in her own soul. While Lady Catharine was hoping, and praying, +and dreaming and believing, even as the roses left her cheek and the +hollows fell beneath her eyes, she saw about her in the daily walks of +life Mary Connynge, sleek and rounded as ever. They sat at table +together, and neither did the one make sign to the other of her own +anxiety, nor did that other give sign of her own treachery. Mary +Connynge, false guest, false friend, false woman, deceived so perfectly +that she left no indication of deceit. She herself knew, and blindly +satisfied herself with the knowledge, that she alone now came close into +the life of "Beau" Law, the convict; "Jessamy" Law, the student, the +financier, the thinker; John Law, her lord and master. Herein she found +the sole compensation possible in her savage nature. She had found the +master whom she sought! + +Cynically mirthful or irreverently indifferent, yet never did her +master's strength forsake him, never did his heart lose its +undauntedness. And when he bade Mary Connynge do this or that she obeyed +him; when he bade her arise she arose; at his word she came or departed. +A dozen nights in the month she was absent from the house of Knollys. A +dozen nights Will Law was cozened into frenzy, alternating between a +heaven of delight and a hell of despair, and ignorant of her twofold +duplicity. A dozen nights John Law knew well enough where Mary Connynge +was, though no one else might know. There was feminine triumph now in +full in the heart of this Mary Connynge, who had gone white with rage at +the sight of a rose offered across her face to another woman. Had she +not her master? Was he not hers, all hers, belonging in no wise to any +other? + +For the future, Mary Connynge did not ponder it. An ephemera, once +buried generations deep in the mire and slime of lower conditions, and +now craving blindly but the sunlight of the day, she would have sought +the deadly caress of life even though at that moment it had sealed her +doom. Foolish or wise, she was as she was; since, under our frail +society, life is as it is. + +Only at night, on those nights when she was sleepless on her own couch +beneath the roof of Catharine Knollys, did Mary Connynge allow herself +to think. Tell, then, ye who may, whether or not she was a mere survival +of some forgotten day of the forest and the glade, as she lay with her +hands clasped in brief moments of emotion. Surely she hoped, as all +women hope who love, that this might endure for her forever. Yet the +next moment there came the thought that inevitably it all must end, and +soon. Then her hand clenched, her eyes grew dry and brilliant. She said +to herself: "There is no hope. He can not be saved! For this short +period of his life he shall be mine, all mine! He shall not be set free! +He shall not go away, to belong, at any time, in any part, to any other +woman! Though he die, yet shall he love me to the end; me, Mary +Connynge, and no other woman!" + +Now, under this same roof of Knollys, separated by but a few yards of +space, there lay another woman, thinking also of this convict behind the +prison bars. But this was a woman of another and a nobler mold. Into the +heart of Catharine Knollys there came no mere mad selfishness of desire, +yearn though she did in every fiber of her being since that first time +she felt the mastering kiss of love. There was born in her soul emotion +of a higher sort. The Lady Catharine Knollys prayed, and her prayer was +not that her lover should die, but that he might live; that he might be +free. + +Nor was this hope left to wither unnourished in the mind of the +high-bred and courageous English girl. Alone, without confidant to +counsel her, with no woman friend to aid her, the Lady Catharine +Knollys backed her own hopes and wishes with resource and energy. There +came a time, perilously late, when a faint rose showed once more in her +cheek, long so worn, a faintly brighter light glowed in her deep eye. + +When Sir Arthur Pembroke received a message from the Lady Catharine +Knollys advising him that the latter would receive him at her home, it +was left for the impulses, the hopes, the imaginings of that modest +young nobleman to establish a reason for the message. Puzzling all along +his rapid way in answer to the summons, Sir Arthur found the answer +which best suited his hopes in the faint flush, the brightened eye of +the young woman who received him. + +"Lady Catharine," he began, impetuously, "I have come, and let me hope +that 'tis at last to have my answer. I have waited--each moment has been +a year that I have spent away from you." + +"Now, that is very pretty said." + +"But I am serious." + +"And that is why I do not like you." + +"But, Lady Catharine!" + +"I should like it better did you but continue as in the past. We have +met on the Row, at the routs and drums, in the country; and always I +have felt free to ask any favor of Sir Arthur Pembroke. Why could it not +be always thus?" + +"You might ask my very life, Lady Catharine." + +"Ah, there it is! When a man offers his life, 'tis time for a woman to +ask nothing." + +She turned from the open window, her attitude showing an unwonted +weakness and dejection. Sir Arthur still stood near by, his own face +frowning and uncertain. + +"Lady Catharine," he broke out at length, "for years, as you know, I +have sought your favor. I have dared think that sometime the day would +come when--my faith! Lady Catharine, the day has come now when I feel it +my right to demand the cause of anything which troubles you. And that +you are troubled is plain enough. Ever since this man Law----" + +"There," cried Lady Catharine, raising her hand. "I beg you to say no +more." + +"But I will say more! There must be a reason for this." + +The face of the young woman flushed in spite of herself, as Pembroke +strode closer and gazed at her with sternness. + +"Lady Catharine," said he, slowly, "I am a friend of your family. +Perhaps now I may be of aid to you. Prove me, and at the last, ask who +was indeed your friend." + +"We have had misfortunes, we of the family of the Knollys," said Lady +Catharine. "This is, perhaps, but the fate of the house of Knollys. It +is my fate." + +"Your fate!" said Sir Arthur, slowly. "Your fate! Lady Catharine, I +thank you. It is at least as well to know the truth." + +"Pick out the truth, then, Sir Arthur, as you like it. I am not on the +witness stand before you, and you are not my judge. There has been +forsworn testimony enough already in this town. Were it not for that, +Mr. Law would at this moment be free as you or I." + +Sir Arthur struck his hands together in despair, and turning away, +strode down the room. + +"Oh, I see it all well enough," cried he. "You are mad as any who have +hitherto had dealings with this madman from the North." + +The girl rose to her full height and stood before him. + +"It may be I am mad," said she. "It may be the old Knollys madness. If +so, why should I struggle against it? It may be that I am mad. But I +venture to say to you that Mr. Law is not born to die in Newgate yards. +My life! sir, if I love him, who should say me nay? Now, say to +yourself, and to your friends--to all London, if you like, since you +have touched me to this point--that Catharine Knollys is friend to Mr. +Law, and believes in him, and declares that he shall be freed from his +prison, and that within short space! Say that, Sir Arthur; tell them +that! And if they argue somewhat from it, why, let them reason it as +best they may." + +The young man stood, his lips close together, his head still turned +away. The girl continued with growing energy. + +"I have sent for you to tell you that Mr. Law's life has a value in my +eyes. And now, I say to you, Sir Arthur, that you must aid me in his +escape." + +A beautiful picture she made, tearful, pleading, a lock of her soft +red-brown hair falling unnoticed across her tear-wet cheek. It had been +ill task, indeed, to make refusal of any sort to a woman so gloriously +feminine, so noble, now so beseeching. + +"Lady Catharine," said the young man, turning toward her, "this illness, +this anxiety--" + +"No, I know perfectly well whereof I speak! Listen, and I'll tell you +somewhat of news. Montague, chancellor of the exchequer, is my warrant +for what I say to you when I tell you that Mr. Law is to be free. +Montague himself has said to me, in this very room, that Mr. Law was +like to be half the salvation of England in these uncertain times. I +could tell you more, but may not. Only look you, Sir Arthur, John Law +does not rest in Newgate more than one week from this time!" + +Sir Arthur took snuff, his voice at length regaining that composure for +which he had sought. + +"'Tis very excellent," he said. "For myself, two centuries have been +spent in my family to teach me to love like a gentleman, and to deserve +you like a man. What does this young man need? A few days of bluster, of +assertion! A few weeks of gaming and of roistering, of self-asserted +claims! Gad! Lady Catharine, this is passing bitter! And now you ask me +to help him." + +"I wish you to help him," said Lady Catharine, slowly, "only in that I +ask you to help me." + +"And if I did?" + +"And if you did, you should dwell in a part of my heart forever! Let it +be as you like." + +"Then," cried the young man, flushing suddenly and hotly as he strode +toward her, "do with me as you like! Let me be fool unspeakable!" + +"And do you promise?" said Lady Catharine, rising and advancing toward +him. Her face was sad and appealing. Her eyes swam in tears, her lips +were trembling. + +Sir Arthur held out his hand. The Lady Catharine extended both her own, +and he bent and kissed them, tears springing in his eyes. For a time the +room was silent. Then the girl turned, her own lashes wet. She stepped +at length to a cabinet and took from an inner drawer a paper. + +"Sir Arthur, look at this," she Said. + +He took it from her and scrutinized it carefully. + +"Why, this seems to be a street bill, a placard for posting upon the +walls," said he. + +"Read it." + +"Yes, well--so, so. 'Five hundred pounds reward for information +regarding the escaped felon, Captain John Law, convicted of murder and +under sentence of death of the King's Bench. The same Law escaped from +Newgate prison on the night of'--hum--well--well--'May be known by this +description: Is tall, of dark complexion, spare of build, raw-boned, +face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes dark; hair dark and scanty. Speaketh +broad and loud.' How--how, why my dear Lady Catharine, this is the last +proof that thou'rt stark, staring mad! This no more tallies with the +true John Law than it does with my hunting horse!" + +"And but few would know him by this description?" + +"None, absolutely none." + +"None could tell 'twas he, even did they meet him full face to face--no +one would know it was Mr. Law?" + +"Why, assuredly not. 'Tis as unlike him as it could be." + +"Then it is well!" said Lady Catharine. + +"Well? Very badly done, I should say." + +"Oh, my poor Sir Arthur, where are your wits? 'Tis very well because +'tis very ill, this same description." + +"Ah, ha!" said he, a sudden light dawning upon him. "Then you mean to +tell me that this description was misconceived deliberately?" + +"What would you think?" + +"Did you do this work yourself?" + +"Guess for yourself. Montague, as you know, was once of a pretty +imagination, ere he took to finance. If he and the poet Prior could +write such conceits as they have created, could not perhaps Montague--or +Prior--or some one else--have conceived this description of Mr. Law?" + +The young man threw himself into a seat, his head between his hands. +"'Tis like a play," said he. "And surely the play of fortune ever runs +well enough for Mr. Law." + +"Sir Arthur," said Lady Catharine, rising uneasily and standing before +him, "I must confess to you that I bear a certain active part in private +plans looking to the escape of Mr. Law. I have come to you for aid. Sir +Arthur, I pray God that we may be successful." + +The young man also rose and began to pace the floor. + +"Even did Law escape," he began, "it would mean only his flight from +England." + +"True," said the Lady Catharine, "that is all planned. The ship even now +awaits him in the Pool. He is to take ship at once upon leaving prison, +and he sails at once from England. He goes to France." + +"But, my dear Lady Catharine, this means that he must part from you." + +"Of course, it means our parting." + +"Oh, but you said--but I thought--" + +"But I said--but you thought--Sir Arthur, do not stand there prating +like a little boy!" + +"You do not, then, keep your prisoner bound by other fetters after he +escapes from Newgate?" + +"I do nothing unwomanly, and I do nothing, I trust, ignoble. I go to +meet the Knollys fate, whatever it may be." + +"Lady Catharine," cried Pembroke, passionately, "I have said I loved +you. Never in my life did I love you as I do now!" + +"I like to hear your words," said the girl, frankly. "There shall always +be your corner in my heart--" + +"Yet you will do this thing?" + +"I will do this thing. I shall not whimper nor repine. I am sending him +away forever, but 'tis needful for his sake. I shall be ready for +whatever fate hath for me." + +"Tell me, then," said Pembroke, his face haggard and unhappy, "how am I +to serve you in this matter." + +"In this way: To-morrow night call here with your coach. My household, +if they note it, may take your coach for my own, and may perhaps +understand that I go to the rout of my Lady Swearingsham. We shall go, +instead, to Newgate. For the night, Sir Arthur Pembroke shall serve as +coachman. You must drive the carriage to Newgate jail." + +"And 'tis there," said Pembroke, slowly, "that the Lady Catharine +Knollys, the dearest woman of all England, would take the man who +honorably loves her--to Newgate, to feloniously set free a felon? Is it +there, then, Lady Catharine, you would go to meet your lover?" + +The tall figure of the girl straightened up to its full height. A shade +of color came to her cheeks, but her voice was firm, though tears came +to her eyes as she answered: + +"Aye, sir, I would go to Newgate if there were need!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE ESCAPE + + +On a certain morning a messenger rode in hot haste up to the prison +gate. He bore the livery of Montague. Turnkey after turnkey admitted +him, until finally he stood before the cell of John Law and delivered +into his hand, as he had been commanded, the message that he bore. That +afternoon this same messenger paused at the gate of the house of +Knollys. Here, too, he was admitted promptly. He delivered into the +hands of the Lady Catharine Knollys a certain message. This was of a +Wednesday. On the following Friday it was decreed that the gallows +should do its work. Two more days and there would be an end of "Jessamy" +Law. + +That Wednesday night a covered carriage came to the door of the house of +Knollys. Its driver was muffled in such fashion that he could hardly +have been known. There stepped from the house the cloaked figure of a +woman, who entered the carriage and herself pulled shut the door. The +vehicle was soon lost among the darkling streets. + +Catharine Knollys had heard the summons of her fate. She now sat +trembling in the carriage. + +When finally the vehicle stopped at the curb of the walk which led to +the prison gate, a second carriage, as mysterious as the first, came +down the street and stopped at a little distance, but close to the curb +on the side nearest to the gate. The driver of the first carriage, +evidently not liking the close neighborhood at the time, edged a trifle +farther down the way. The second carriage thereupon drew up into the +spot just vacated, and the two, not easily distinguishable at the hour +and in the dark and unlighted street, stood so, each apparently watchful +of the other, each seemingly without an occupant. + +Lady Catharine had left her carriage before this interchange, and had +passed the prison gate alone. Her steps faltered. It was hardly +consciously that she finally found her way into the court, through the +gate, down the evil-smelling corridors, past the sodden and leering +constables, up to the last gate which separated her from him whom she +had come to see. + +She had been admitted without demur as far as this point, and even now +her coming seemed not altogether a matter of surprise. The burly turnkey +at the last door stood ready to meet her. With loud commands, he drove +out of the corridor the crowd of prison attendants. He approached Lady +Catharine, hat in hand and bowing deeply. + +"I presume you are the man whom I would see," said she, faintly, almost +unequal to the task imposed upon her. + +"Aye, Madam, I doubt not, with my best worship for you." + +"I was to come"--said Lady Catharine. "I was to speak to you--" + +"Aye," replied the turnkey. "You were to come, and you were to speak. +And now, what were you to say to me? Was there no given word?" + +"There was such a word," she said. "You will understand. It is in the +matter of Mr. Law." + +"True," said the turnkey. "But I must have the countersign. There are +heads to lose in this, yours and mine, if there be mistake." + +Lady Catharine raised her head proudly. "It was for Faith," said she, +"for Love, and for Hope! These were the words." + +Saying which, as though she had called to her aid the last atom of her +strength, she staggered back and half fell against the wall near the +inner gate. The rude jailer sprang forward to steady her. + +"Yes, yes," he whispered, eagerly. "'Tis all proper. Those be the +words. Pray you, have courage, lady." + +There came into the corridor a murmur of voices, and there was audible +also the sound of a man's footfalls approaching along the flags. +Catharine Knollys looked through the bars of the gate which the turnkey +was already beginning to throw open for her. She looked, and there +appeared upon her vision, a sight which caused her heart to stop, which +confounded all her reason. From a side door there advanced John Law, +magnificently clad, walking now as though he trod the floor of some +great hall or banquet room. + +The woman waiting without the gate reached out her arms. She would have +cried aloud. Then she fell back against the wall, whereat had she not +grasped she must have sunk down to the floor. + +Upon the arm of John Law, and looking up to him as she walked, there +hung the clinging figure of a woman, half-hidden by the flickering +shadows of the torches. A deep cloak fell back from her shoulders. It +might have been the light fabric of the aborigine. Upon the foot of Mary +Connynge, twinkling in and out as she walked, showed the crudely +garnished little shoe of the Indian princess over seas, dainty, bizarre, +singular, covering the smallest foot in all London town. + +"By all the saints!" Law was saying, "you might be the very maker of +this little slipper yourself. I have won the forty crowns, I swear! +Perforce, I'll leave them to you in my will." + +The shock of the light speech made even Mary Connynge wince. For the +moment she averted her eyes from the handsome face above her. She +looked, and saw what gave her greater shock. Law, too, stared, as her +own startled gaze grew fixed. He advanced close to the gate, only to +start back in a horror of surprise which racked even his steeled +composure. + +"Madam!" he cried; and then, "Catharine!" + +Catharine Knollys made no answer to him, though she looked straight and +calmly into his face, seeming not in the least to see the woman near +him. Her eyes were wide and shining. "Sir," said she, "keep fast to +Hope! This was for Faith, and for Love!" + +The jailer with one quick gesture swung wide the gate. "Haste, haste!" +he cried. "Quick and begone! This night may mean my ruin! Get ye gone, +all of ye, and give me time to think. Out with ye all, for I must lock +the gate!" + +John Law passed as one stupefied, the slender form of Mary Connynge +still upon his arm. Hands of men hurried them. "Quick! Into the +carriage!" one cried. + +And now the sounds of feet and voices approaching along the corridor +were heard. The jailer swiftly swung the heavy gate to and locked it. +Catharine Knollys caught his last gesture, which bade her begone as fast +as might be. Her feet were strangely heavy, in spite of her. She reached +the curb in time to hear only the whir of wheels as a carriage sped away +over the stones of the street. She stood alone, irresolute for half an +instant as the crunch of wheels spun up to the curb again. A hand +reached out and beckoned; involuntarily she obeyed the summons. Her +wrist was seized, and she was half pulled through the door of the +carriage. + +"What!" cried a voice. "You, Lady Catharine! Why, how is this?" + +It was the voice of Will Law, whom she knew, but who certainly was not +the one who had brought her hither. The Lady Catharine accepted this +last situation as one no longer able to reason. She sank down in the +carriage seat, shivering. + +"Is all well?" asked Will Law, eagerly. + +"He is safe," said Lady Catharine Knollys. "It is done. It is finished." + +"What does this mean?" exclaimed Will. + +"His carriage--there it is. It goes to the ship--to the Pool. He and +Mary Connynge are only just ahead of us. You may hear the wheels. Do you +not hear them?" She spoke with leaden voice, and her head sank heavily. + +"What! My brother--Mary Connynge--in that carriage--what can you mean? +My God! Lady Catharine, tell me, what do you mean?" + +"I do not know," said Catharine Knollys. All things now seemed very far +away from her. Her head sank gently forward, and she heard not the words +of the man who frantically sought to awaken her to speech. + +From the prison to London Pool was a journey of some distance across the +streets of London. Will Law called out to the driver with savagery in +his voice. He shouted, cursed, implored, promised, and betimes held one +hand under the soft, heavy tresses of the head now sunk so humbly +forward. + +The mad ride ended at the quay on Thames side, where the shadows of the +tall buildings lay rank and thick upon the earth, where tarry smells and +evil odors filled the heavy air, penetrated none the less by the savor +of the keen salt air. More than one giant form was outlined in the broad +stream, vessels tall and ghost-like in the gloom, shadowy, suggestive, +bearing imprint and promise of far lands across the sea. + +Here was the initial point of England's greatness. Here on this heavy +stream had her captains taken ship. Thence had sailed her admirals to +encompass all the world. In these dark massed shadows, how much might +there not be of fate and mystery! Whither might not these vessels carry +one! To France, to the far-off Indies, to the new-owned islands, to +America with its little half-grown ports. Whence and whither? What might +not one do, here at this gateway of the world? + +"To the brigantine beyond!" cried Will Law to the wherryman who came up. +"We want Captain McMasters, of the Polly Perkins. For God's sake, quick! +There's that afoot must be caught up within the moment, do you hear!" + +The wherryman touched his cap and quickly made ready his boat. Will Law, +understanding naught of this swift coil of events, and not daring to +leave Lady Catharine behind him at the carriage, made down the stairway, +half carrying the drooping figure which now leaned weakly upon his +shoulder. + +"Pull now, man! Pull as you never did before!" cried he, and the +wherryman bent hard to his oars. + +Yet great as was the haste of those who put forth into the foggy +Thames, it was more than equalled by that of one who appeared upon the +dock, even as the creak of the oars grew fainter in the gloom. There +came the rattle of wheels upon the quay, and the sound of a driver +lashing his horses. A carriage rolled up, and there sprang from the box +a muffled figure which resolved itself into the very embodiment of +haste. + +"Hold the horses, man!" he cried to the nearest by-stander, and sprang +swiftly to the head of the stairs, where a loiterer or two stood idly +gazing out into the mist which overhung the water. + +"Saw you aught of a man," he demanded hastily, "a man and a woman, a +tall young woman--you could not mistake her? 'Twas the Polly Greenway +they should have found. Tell me, for God's sake, has any boat put out +from this stair?" + +"Why, sir," replied one of the wherrymen who stood near by, pipe in +mouth and hand in pocket, "since you mention it, there was a boat +started but this instant for midstream. They sought McMaster's +brigantine, the Polly Perkins, that lies waiting for the tide. 'Twas, as +you say, a young gentleman, and with him was a young woman. I misdoubt +the lady was ill." + +"Get me a boat!" cried the new-comer. "A sovereign, five sovereigns, ten +sovereigns, a hundred--but that ship must not weigh anchor until I +board her, do you hear!" + +The ring of the imperative voice, and moreover the ring of good English +coin, set all the dock astir. Straightway there came up another wherry +with two lusty fellows, who laid her at the stair where stood the +impatient stranger. + +"Hurry, men!" he cried. "'Tis life and death--'tis more than life and +death!" + +And such fortune attended Sir Arthur Pembroke that forsooth he went over +the side of the Polly Perkins, even as the gray dawn began to break over +the narrow Thames, and even as the anchor-song of the crew struck up. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +WHITHER + + +A few hours later a coppery sun slowly dispersed the morning mists above +the Thames. The same sun warmed the court-yards of the London jail, +which lately had confined John Law, convicted of the murder of Beau +Wilson, gentleman. It was discovered that the said John Law had, in some +superhuman fashion, climbed the spiked walls of the inner yard. The +jailer pointed out the very spot where this act had been done. It was +not so plain how he had passed the outer gates of the prison, yet those +were not wanting who said that he had overpowered the turnkey at the +gate, taken from him his keys, and so forced his way out into London +city. + +Far and wide went forth the proclamation of reward for the apprehension +of this escaped convict. The streets of London were placarded broadcast +with bills bearing this description of the escaped prisoner: + +"Five hundred pounds reward for information regarding the escaped +felon, John Law, convicted in the King's Bench of murder and under +sentence of death. The same Law escaped from prison on the night of 20 +July. May be known by the following description: Is tall, of dark +complexion, spare of build, raw-boned, face hath deep pock-marks. Eyes +dark, hair dark and scanty. Speaks broad and loud. Carries his shoulders +stooped, and is of mean appearance. + + "WESTON, High Sheriff. + Done at Newgate prison, this 21 July." + +Yet though the authorities of the law made full search in London, and +indeed in other of the principal cities of England, they got no word of +the escaped prisoner. + +The clouded dawn which broke over the Thames below the Pool might have +told its own story. There sat upon the deck of the good ship Polly +Greenway, outbound from Thames' mouth, this same John Law. He regarded +idly the busy scenes of the shipping about him. His gaze, dull and +listless, looked without joy upon the dawn, without inquiry upon the far +horizon. For the first time in all his life John Law dropped his head +between his hands. + +Not so Mary Connynge. "Good sir," cried she, merrily, "'tis morning. +Let's break our fast, and so set forth proper on our voyage." + +"So now we are free," said Law, dully. "I could swear there were +shackles on me." + +"Yes, we are free," said Mary Connynge, "and all the world is before us. +But saw you ever in all your life a man so dumfounded as was Sir Arthur +when he discovered 'twas I, and not the Lady Catharine, had stepped into +the carriage? That confusion of the carriages was like to have cost us +everything. I know not how your brother made such mistake. He said he +would fetch me home the night. Gemini! It sure seems a long way about! +And where may be your brother now, or Sir Arthur, or the Lady +Catharine--why, 'tis as much confused as though 'twere all in a play!" + +"But Sir Arthur cried that my ship was for France. Yet here they tell me +that this brigantine is bound for the mouth of the St. Lawrence, in +America! What then of this other, and what of my brother--what of +us--what of--?" + +"Why, I think this," said Mary Connynge, calmly. "That you do very well +to be rid of London jail; and for my own part, 'tis a rare appetite the +salt air ever gives me!" + +Upon the same morning tide there was at this very moment just setting +aloft her sails for the first high airs of dawn the ship of McMasters, +the Polly Perkins, bound for the port of Brest. + +She came down scarce a half-dozen cable lengths behind the craft which +bore the fugitives now beginning their journey toward another land. Upon +the deck of this ship, even as upon the other, there were those who +waited eagerly for the dawn. There were two men here, Will Law and Sir +Arthur Pembroke, and whether their conversation had been more eager or +more angry, were hard to tell. Will Law, broken and dejected, his heart +torn by a thousand doubts and a thousand pains, sat listening, though +but half comprehending. + +"Every plan gone wrong!" cried Sir Arthur. "Every plan gone wrong, and +out of it all we can only say that he has escaped from prison for whom +no prison could be enough of hell! Though he be your brother, I tell it +to your face, the gallows had been too good for John Law! Look you +below. See that girl, pure as an angel, as noble and generous a soul us +ever breathed--what hath she done to deserve this fate? You have brought +her from her home, and to that home she can not now return unsmirched. +And all this for a man who is at this moment fleeing with the woman whom +she deemed her friend! What is there left in life for her?" + +Will Law groaned and buried his own head deeper in his hands. "What is +there left for any of us?" said he. "What is there left for me?" + +"For you?" said Sir Arthur, questioningly. "Why, the next ship back from +Brest, or from any other port of France. 'Tis somewhat different with a +woman." + +"You do not understand," said Will Law. "The separation means somewhat +for me." + +"Surely you do not mean--you have no reference to Mary Connynge?" cried +Sir Arthur. + +Will bowed his head abjectly and left the other to guess that which sat +upon his mind. Sir Arthur drew a long breath and stopped his angry +pacing up and down. + +"It ran on for weeks," said Will Law. "We were to have been married. I +had no thought of this. 'Twas I who took her to and from the prison +regularly, and 'twas thus that we met. She told me she was but the +messenger of the Lady Catharine." + +Sir Arthur drew a long, slow breath. "Then I may say to you," said he, +"that your brother, John Law, is a hundred times more traitor and felon +than even now I thought him. Yonder he goes"--and he shook his fist into +the enveloping mist which hung above the waters. "Yonder he goes, +somewhere, I give you warning, where he deems no trail shall be left +behind him. But I promise you, whatever be your own wish, I shall follow +him into the last corner of the earth, but he shall see me and give +account for this! There is none of us he has not deceived, utterly, and +like a black-hearted villain. He shall account for it, though it be +years from now." + +So now, inch by inch, fathom after fathom, cable length after cable +length, soon knot after knot, there sped two English ships out into the +open seaway. Before long they began to toss restlessly and to pull +eagerly at the helm as the scent of the salt seas came in. Yet neither +knew fully the destination of the other, and neither knew that upon the +deck of that other there was full solution of those questions which now +sat so heavily upon these human hearts. Thus, silently, slowly, +steadily, the two drew outward and apart, and before that morn was done, +both were tossing widely upon the swell of that sea beyond which there +lay so much of fate and mystery. + + + + +BOOK II + +AMERICA + + +CHAPTER I + +THE DOOR OF THE WEST + + +"Nearly a league farther, Du Mesne, and the sun but an hour high. Come, +let us hasten!" + +"You are right, Monsieur L'as," replied the one addressed, as the first +speaker seated himself on the thwart of the boat in whose bow he had +been standing. "Bend to it, _mes amis_!" + +John Law turned about on the seat, gazing back over the length of the +little ship which had brought him and his comrades thus far on the +wildest journey he had ever undertaken. Six paddlers there were for this +great _canot du Nord_, and steadily enough they sent the thin-shelled +craft along over the curling blue waves of the great inland sea. And now +their voices in one accord fell into the cadences of an ancient +boat-song of New France: + + + "_En roulant ma boule, roulant, + Roulant, rouler, ma boule roulant_." + + +The ictus of the measure marked time for the sweeping paddles, and +under the added impetus the paper shell, reinforced as it was by +close-laid splints of cedar, and braced by the fiber-fastened thwarts, +fairly yielded to the rush of the waves as the stalwart paddlers sent it +flying forward. A tiny blur of white showed about the bows, and now and +again a splash of spray came inboard, as some little curling white cap +was divided by the rush of the swiftly moving prow. + +"We shall not arrive too soon, my friend," rejoined the captain of the +_voyageurs_, casting an eye back across the great lake, which lay black +and ominous under a threatening sky, the sweep and swirl of its white +caps ever racing hard after the frail craft, as though eager to break +through its paper sides and tear away the human beings who thus fled on +so lightly. + +This boat, mysteriously appearing as though it were some spirit craft +railed from the ancient deeps, was far from the beginning of its wild +journey. Wide as the eye might reach, there arose no fleck of snowy +canvas, nor showed the dark line of any similar craft propelled by oar +or paddle. They were alone, these travelers. Before them, at the +entrance of the wide arm of the great lake Michiganon, lay the point +even at that early day known as the Door of the West, the beginning of +the winding water-way which led on into the interior of that West, then +so alluring and unknown. The eyes of all were fixed on the low, +white-fronted bluffs, crowned by dark forest growth, which guarded the +bay at either hand. This spot, so wild, so remote, so significant--it +was home for these _voyageurs_ as much as any; as much, too, for Law and +the woman who lay back, pale-faced and wide-eyed, among the bales in the +great canoe. + +In time the graceful craft approached the beach, on which the long waves +rolled and curled, now gently, now with imposing force. With the water +yet half-leg deep, Du Mesne and two of the paddlers sprang bodily +overboard and held the boat back from the pebbles, so that its tender +shell might not be damaged. Law himself was as soon as they in the +water, and he waded back along the gunwale until he reached the stern, +the water nearly up to his hips. Reaching out his arms, he picked up +Mary Connynge from her seat and carried her dry-shod ashore, bending +down to catch some whispered word. Not so gallant was Du Mesne, the +leader of the _voyageurs_. He uttered a few short words of semi-command +to the Indian woman, who had been seated on the floor of the canoe, and +she, without protest, crawled forward over the thwarts and the heaped +bundles until she reached the bow, and then went ankle deep into the +creaming flood. The great canoe, left empty and anchored safe from the +pebbles of the beach, tossed light as a cork on the incoming waves. + +A little open space was quickly found at the edge of the cove in which +the disembarkation was made, and here Du Mesne and his followers soon +kicked away the twigs and leveled out a smooth place upon the grass. +Each man produced from his belt a broad-bladed knife, and for the moment +disappeared in the deep fringe of evergreens which lined the shore. +Fairly in the twinkling of an eye a rude frame of bent poles was made, +above which were spread strips of unrolled birch bark from the cargo of +the canoe. Over the spaces left uncovered by the supply of bark sheets +there were laid down long mats made by Indian hands from dried reeds and +bulrushes, affording no inconsiderable protection against the weather. +Inside the lodge, bales of goods and packages of provisions were quickly +arranged in comfortable fashion. Gaudy blankets were spread upon layers +of soft skins of the buffalo. The Indian woman had meantime struck a +fire, whose faint blue smoke curled lakeward in the soft evening air. +Quickly, and with the system of experienced campaigners, the evening +bivouac had been prepared; and wildly picturesque it must have seemed +to a bystander, had there been indeed any possible spectator within many +leagues. + +Far enough was this from the turmoil of London, which Law and his +companion had left nearly a year before; far enough still from the wild +capital of New France, where they had spent the winter, after landing, +as much by chance as through any plan, at the port of the St. Lawrence. +Ever a demon of unrest drove Law forward; ever there beckoned to him +that irresistible West, of which he was one of the earliest to feel the +charm. Farther and farther westward, swift and swifter than ever the +boats of the fur traders had made the journey before, he and his party, +led by Du Mesne, the ex-galley-slave and wanderer whom Law had by chance +met again, and gladly, at Montréal, had made the long and dangerous run +up the lakes, past Michilimackinac, down the lake of Michiganon, headed +toward the interior of a new continent which was then, as for +generations after then, the land of wondrous distances, of grand +enterprises, of magnificent promises and immense fulfilments. The bales +and bundles of this bivouac belonged to John Law, bought by gold from +the gaming tables of Montréal and Quebec, and ventured in the one great +hazard which appealed to him most irresistibly, the hazard of life and +fortune in a far land, where he might live unneighbored, and where he +might forget. Gambler in England, gambler again in New France, now +trading fur-merchant and _voyageur_, he was, as always, an adventurer. +Du Mesne and his hardy crew hailed him already as a new captain of the +trails, a new _coureur_, won from the Old World by the savage witchery +of the New. He was their brother; and had he indeed owned longer years +of training, his keenness of eye, his strength of arm, his tirelessness +of limb could hardly have been greater than they seemed in his first +voyage to the West. + + + "_Tous les printemps, + Tant des nouvelles_" + +hummed Du Mesne, as he busied himself about the camp, casting the while +a cautious eye to note the progress of the threatening storm. + + + "_Tous les amants + Changent des maîtresses. + Jamais le bon vin n'endort-- + L'amour me réveille_!" + +"The best is before us now, Monsieur L'as," said Du Mesne, joining Law, +at length. "Assuredly the best is always that which is ahead and which +is unknown; but in point of fact the hardest of our journey is over, +for henceforth we may stretch our legs ashore, and hunt and fish, and +make good camps for madame, who, as we both perceive, is much in need of +ease and care. We shall make all safe and comfortable for this night, +doubt not. + +"Meantime," continued he, "let us see that all is well with our men and +arms, for henceforth we must put out guards. Attention, comrades! +Present your pieces and answer the roll-call! Pierre Berthier!" + +"_Ici_! Monsieur," replied the one better known as Pierre Noir, a tall +and dark-visaged Canadian, clad in the common costume, half-Indian and +half-civilized, which marked his class. A shirt of soft dressed buckskin +fell about his thighs; his legs were encased in moose-skin leggings, +deeply fringed at the seams. About his middle was a broad sash, once +red, and upon his head a scanty cap of similar color was pushed back. At +his belt hung the great hunting knife of the _voyageur_, balanced by a +keen steel tomahawk such as was in common use among the Indians. In his +hand he supported a long-barreled musket, which he now examined +carefully in the presence of the captain of the _voyageurs_. + +"Robert Challon!" next commanded Du Mesne, and in turn the one addressed +looked over his piece, the captain also scrutinizing the flint and +priming with careful eye. + +"Naturally, _mes enfants_," said he, "your weapons are perfect, as ever. +Kataikini, and you, Kabayan, my brothers, let me see," said he to the +two Indians, the former a Huron and the latter an Ojibway, both from the +shores of Superior. The Indians arose silently, and without protest +submitted to the scrutiny which ever seemed to them unnecessary. + +"Jean Breboeuf!" called Du Mesne; and in response there arose from the +shadows a wiry little Frenchman, who might have been of any age from +twenty to forty-five, so sun-burnt and wrinkled, yet so active and +vigorous did he seem. + +"_Mon ami_," said Du Mesne to him, chidingly, "see now, here is your +flint all but out of its engagement. Pray you, have better care of your +piece. For this you shall stand the long watch of the night. And now let +us all to bed." + +One by one the little party was lost to view within the dark interior of +the hut which they had arranged for themselves. Du Mesne retired a +distance from the fire and seated himself upon a fallen log, his pipe +glowing like a coal in the enveloping darkness. + +Law himself did not so soon leave the outer air. He remained gazing out +at the wild scene about him, at the rolling waves dashing on the shore, +their crests whitening in the glare of the lightning, now approaching +more closely. He harkened to the roll of the far-off thunder reënforced +by the thunder of the waves upon the shore, and noted the sweep of the +black forest about, of the black sky overhead, unlit save for one +far-off, faint and feeble star. + +It was a new world, this that lay around him, a new and savage world. If +there were a world behind him, a world which once held sunlight and +flowers, and love and hope--why then, it was a world lost and gone +forever, and it was very well that this new world should be so different +and so stern. + +In the darkness John Law heard a voice, the voice of a woman in terror. +Swiftly he stepped to the door of the rude lodge. + +"Don't let them sing it again--never any more--that song." + +"And what, Madam?" + +"That one--'_us les amants changent des maîtresses_!'" + +A moment later she whispered, "I am afraid." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE STORM + + +Marshaling to the imperious orders of the tempest, and crowding close +upon the flaming standards of the lightning, the armies of the clouds +came on. The sea-wide surface of the lake went dull, and above it bent a +sky appalling in its blackness. The wind at first was light, then fitful +and gusty, like the rising choler of a man affronted and nursing his own +anger. It gained in volume and swept on across the tops of the forest +trees, as though with a hand contemptuous in its strength, forbearing +only by reason of its own whimsy. Now and again the cohorts of the +clouds just hinted at parting, letting through a pale radiance from the +western sky, where lingered the departing day. This light, as did the +illuminating glare of the forked flames above, disclosed the white +helmets of the trooping waters, rushing on with thunderous unison of +tread; and the rattling thunder-shocks, intermittent, though coming +steadily nearer, served but to emphasize these foot strokes of the +waves. The heavens above and the waters under the earth--these +conspired, these marched together, to assail, to overwhelm, to utterly +destroy. + +To destroy what? Why this wild protest of the wilderness? Was it this +wide-blown, scattered fire, whose sparks and ashes were sown broadcast, +till but stubborn remnants clung under the sheltering back-log of the +bivouac hearth? Was it this frail lodge, built upon pliant, yielding +poles, covered cunningly with mats and bark, carpeted with robe of elk +and buffalo? Yet why should the elements rage at a tiny fire, and why +should they tear at a little house of nomad man, since these things were +old upon the earth? Was it somewhat else that incited this elemental +rage? This might have been; for surely, builder of this hearth-fire +which would not quench, master of this house which would not yield, +there was now come up to the door of the wilderness the white man, risen +from the sea, heralding the day which the tribes had for generations +blindly prophesied! The white man, stern, stubborn, fruitful, had come +to despoil the West of its secrets! + +Let all the elements therefore join in riotous revolt! Let earth and sea +and sky make common cause! Rage, waves, and blaze, ye fiery tongues, +and threaten, forests, with all your ominous voices! Smite, destroy, or +terrify into swift retreat this little band! Crush out their tenement! +Loosen and brush off this feeble finger-grasp at the ancient threshold! +With banners of flame, with armies of darkness, with shoutings of the +captains of the storms, assail, denude, destroy, if even by the agony of +their terrors, these feeble folk now come hither! And by this more +especially, since they would set the seal of fruitfulness upon the land, +and bring upon the earth a generation yet to follow. Hover about this +bed in the frail and swaying lodge of bark and boughs, all ye most +terrifying spirits! Let not this thing be! + +"Mother of God!" cried Jean Breboeuf, bending low and pulling his tunic +tighter by the belt, as he came gasping into the faint circle of light +which still remained at the fire log. "'Tis murderous, this storm! Ah, +Monsieur du Mesne, we are dead men! But what matter? 'Tis as well now as +later. Said I not so to you all the way down Michiganon from the +Straits? A rabbit crossed my path at the last camp before +Michilimackinac, and when we took boat to leave the mission at the +Straits, three crows flew directly across our way. Did I not beseech you +to turn back? Did I not tell you, most of all, that we had no right, +honest _voyageurs_ that we are, to leave for the woods without +confessing to the good father? 'Tis two years now since I have been +proper shriven, and two years is too long for a _voyageur_ to remain +unabsolved. Mother of God! When I see the lightnings and listen to that +wind, I bethink me of my sins--my sins! I vow a bale of beaver--" + +"Pish! Jean," responded Du Mesne, who had come in from the cover of the +wood and was casting about in the darkness as best he might to see that +all was made secure. "Thou'lt feel better when the sun shines again. +Call Pierre Noir, and hurry, or our canoe will pound to bits upon the +beach. Come!" + +All three went now knee-deep in the surf, and Du Mesne, clinging to the +gunwale as he passed out, was soon waist deep, and time and again lost +his footing in the flood. + +"Pull!" he cried at last. "Now, _en avant_!" He had flung himself over +the stern, and with his knife cut the hide rope of the anchor-stone. +Overboard again in an instant, he joined the others in their rush up the +beach, and the three bore their ship upon their shoulders above the +reach of the waves. + +"Myself," said Pierre Noir, "shall sleep beneath the boat to-night, for +since she sheds water from below, she may do as well from above." + +"Even so, Pierre Noir," said Du Mesne, "but get you the boat farther +toward your own camp to-night. Do you not see that Monsieur L'as is not +with us?" + +"_Eh bien_?" + +"And were he not surely with us at such time, unless--?" + +"Oh, _assurément_!" replied Pierre Noir. "Jean Breboeuf, aid me in +taking the boat back to our camp in the woods." + +Now came the rain. Not in steady and even downpour, not with +intermittent showers, but in a sidelong, terrifying torrent, drenching, +biting, cutting in its violence. The swift weight of the rain gave to +the trees more burden than they could bear. As before the storm, when +all was still, there had come time and again the warning boom of a +falling tree, stricken with mysterious mortal dread of that which was to +come, so now, in the riot of that arrived danger, first one and then +another wide-armed monarch of the wood crashed down, adding with its +downfall to the testimony of the assailing tempest's strength and fury. +The lightning now came not only in ragged blazes and long ripping lines +of light, but in bursts and shocks, and in bomb-like balls, exploding +with elemental detonations. Balls of this tense surcharged essence +rolled out over the comb of the bluff, fell upon the shadows of the +water, and seemed to bound from crest to white-capped crest, till at +last they split and burst asunder like some ominous missiles from +engines of wrath and destruction. + +And now, suddenly, all grew still again. The sky took on a lighter, +livid tone, one of pure venom. There came a whisper, a murmur, a rush as +of mighty waters, a sighing as of an army of the condemned, a shrieking +as of legions of the lost, a roaring as of all the soul-felt tortures of +a world. From the forest rose a continuous rending crash. The whiplash +of the tempest cracked the tree trunks as a child beheads a row of +daisies. Piled up, falling, riven asunder, torn out by the wind, the +giant trees joined the toys which the cynic storm gathered in its hands +and bore along until such time as it should please to crush and drop +them. + +There passed out over the black sea of Michiganon a vast black wraith; a +thing horrible, tremendous, titanic in organic power. It howled, +execrated, menaced; missed its aim, and passed. The little swaying house +still stood! Under the sheltered log some tiny sparks of fire still +burned, omen of the unquenchable hearthstones which the land was yet to +know! + +"Holy God! what was it? What was that which passed?" cried Jean +Breboeuf, crawling out from beneath his shelter. "Saint Mary defend us +all this night! 'Twas the great Canoe of the Damned, running _au large_ +across the sky! Mary, Mother of God, hear my vow! From this time Jean +Breboeuf shall lead a better life!" + +The storm, baffled, passed on. The rain, unsatisfied, sullenly ceased in +its attack. The waves, hopeless but still vindictive, began to call back +their legions from the narrow shore. The lightnings, unsated in their +wrath, flared and flickered on and out across the eastward sea. With +wild laughter and shrieks and imprecations, the spirit of the tempest +wailed on its furious way. The red West had raised its hand to smite, +but it had not smitten sure. + +In the silence of the night, in the hush following the uproar of the +storm, there came a little wailing cry; so faint, so feeble, yet so +mighty, so conquering, this sign of the coming generation, the voice of +the new-born babe. At this little human voice, born of sorrow and sin, +born to suffering and to knowledge, born to life in all its wonders and +to death in all its mystery--the elements perchance relented and averted +their fury. Not yet was there to be punished sin, or wrong, or doubt, or +weakness. Not at once would justice punish the parents of this babe and +blot out at once the record of their fault. Storm and lightning, +darkness and the night yielded to the voice of the infant and allowed +the old story of humanity and sin, and hope and mercy to run on. + +The babe wailed faintly in the silence of the night. Under the +hearth-log there still endured the fire. And then the red West, seeing +itself conquered, smiled and flung wide its arms, and greeted them with +the burgeoning dawn, and the voices of birds, with a sky blue and +repentant, a sun smiling and not unkind. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +AU LARGE + + +It was weeks after the night of the great storm, and the camp of the +_voyageurs_ still held its place on the shore of the great Green Bay. +The wild game and the abundant fishes of the lake gave ample provender +for the party, and the little bivouac had been rendered more comfortable +in many ways best known to those dwellers of the forest. The light jest, +the burst of laughter, the careless ease of attitude showed the +light-hearted _voyageurs_ content with this, their last abode, nor for +the time did any word issue which threatened to end their tarrying. + +Law one morning strolled out from the lodge and seated himself on a bit +of driftwood at the edge of the forest's fringe of cedars, where, +seemingly half forgetting himself in the witchery of the scene, he gazed +out idly over the wide prospect which lay before him. He was the same +young man as ever. Surely, this increased gauntness was but the result +of long hours at the paddle, the hollow cheeks but betokened hard fare +and the defining winds of the outdoor air. If the eye were a trace more +dim, that could be due but to the reflectiveness induced by the quiet +scene and hour. Yet why should John Law, young and refreshed, drop chin +in hand and sit there moodily looking ahead of him, comprehending not at +all that which he beheld? + +Indeed there appeared now to the eye of this young man not the white +shores and black crowned bluffs and distant islands, not the sweep of +broad-winged birds circling near the waters, nor the shadow of the +high-poised eagle drifting far above. He felt not the soft wind upon his +cheek, nor noted the warmth of the oncoming sun. In truth, even here, +on the very threshold of a new world and a new life, he was going back, +pausing uncertainly at the door of that life and of that world which he +had left behind. There appeared to him not the rolling undulations of +the black-topped forest, not the tossing surface of the inland sea, nor +the white-pebbled beach laved by its pulsing waters. He saw instead a +white and dusty road, lined by green English hedge-rows. Back, over +there, beyond these rolling blue waves, back of the long water trail +over which he had come, there were chapel and bell and robed priest, and +the word which made all fast forever. But back of the wilderness +mission, back of the straggling settlements of Montréal and Quebec, back +of the blue waters of the ocean, there, too, were church and minister; +and there dwelt a woman whose figure stood now before his eyes, part of +this mental picture of the white road lined with the hedges of green. + +A hand was laid on his shoulder, and he half started up in sudden +surprise. Before him, the sun shining through her hair, her eyes dark in +the shadow, stood Mary Connynge. A fair woman indeed, comely, round of +form, soft-eyed, and light of touch, she might none the less have been a +very savage as she stood there, clad no longer in the dress of +civilization, but in the soft native garb of skins, ornamented with the +stained quills of the porcupine and the bizarre adornments of the native +bead work; in her hair dull metal bands, like any Indian woman, upon her +feet little beaded moccasins--the very moccasin, it might have been, +which Law had first seen in ancient London town and which had played so +strange a part in his life since then. + +"You startled me," said Law, simply. "I was thinking." + +A sudden jealous wave of woman's divining intuition came upon the woman +at his side. "I doubt not," said she, bitterly, "that I could name the +subject of your thought! Why? Why sit here and dream of her, when here +am I, who deserve everything that you can give?" + +She stood erect, her eyes flashing, her arms outstretched, her bosom +panting under the fringed garments, her voice ringing as it might have +been with the very essence of truth and passion. Law looked at her +steadily. But the shadow did not lift from his brow, though he looked +long and pondered. + +"Come," said he, at length, gently. "None the less we are as we are. In +every game we take our chances, and in every game we pay our debts. Let +us go back to the camp." + +As they turned back down the beach Law saw standing at a little distance +his lieutenant, Du Mesne, who hesitated as though he would speak. + +"What is it, Du Mesne?" asked Law, excusing himself with a gesture and +joining the _voyageur_ where he stood. + +"Why, Monsieur L'as," said Du Mesne, "I am making bold to mention it, +but in good truth there was some question in my mind as to what might be +our plans. The spring, as you know, is now well advanced. It was your +first design to go far into the West, and there to set up your station +for the trading in furs. Now there have come these little incidents +which have occasioned us some delay. While I have not doubted your +enterprise, Monsieur, I bethought me perhaps it might be within your +plans now to go but little farther on--perhaps, indeed, to turn back--" + +"To go back?" said Law. + +"Well, yes; that is to say, Monsieur L'as, back again down the Great +Lakes." + +"Have you then known me so ill as this, Du Mesne?" said Law. "It has not +been my custom to set backward foot on any sort of trail." + +"Oh, well, to be sure, Monsieur, that I know quite well," replied Du +Mesne, apologetically. "I would only say that, if you do go forward, you +will do more than most men accomplish on their first voyage _au large_ +in the wilderness. There comes to many a certain shrinking of the heart +which leads them to find excuse for not faring farther on. Yonder, as +you know, Monsieur, lie Quebec and Montréal, somewhat better fitted for +the abode of monsieur and madame than the tents of the wilderness. Back +of that, too, as we both very well know, Monsieur, lie London and old +England; and I had been dull of eye indeed did I not recognize the +opportunities of a young gallant like yourself. Now, while I know +yourself to be a man of spirit, Monsieur L'as, and while I should +welcome you gladly as a brother of the trail, I had only thought that +perhaps you would pardon me if I did but ask your purpose at this time." + +Law bent his head in silence for a moment. "What know you of this +forward trail, Du Mesne?" said he. "Have you ever gone beyond this point +in your own journeyings?" + +"Never beyond this," replied Du Mesne, "and indeed not so far by many +hundred miles. For my own part I rely chiefly upon the story of my +brother, Greysolon du L'hut, the boldest soul that ever put paddle in +the St. Lawrence. My brother Greysolon, by the fire one night, told me +that some years before he had been at the mouth of the Green +Bay--perhaps near this very spot--and that here he and his brothers +found a deserted Indian camp. Near it, lying half in the fire, where he +had fallen in exhaustion, was an old, a very old Indian, who had been +abandoned by his tribe to die--for that, you must know, Monsieur, is one +of the pleasant customs of the wilderness. + +"Greysolon and his men revived this savage in some fashion, and meantime +had much speech with him about this unknown land at whose edge we have +now arrived. The old savage said that he had been many moons north and +west of that place. He knew of the river called the Blue Earth, perhaps +the same of which Father Hennepin has told. And also of the Divine +River, far below and tributary to the Messasebe. He said that his father +was once of a war party who went far to the north against the Ojibways, +and that his people took from the Ojibways one of their prisoners, who +said that he came from some strange country far to the westward, where +there was a very wide plain, of no trees. Beyond that there were great +mountains, taller than any to be found in all this region hereabout. +Beyond these mountains the prisoner did not know what there might be, +but these mountains his people took to be the edge of the world, beyond +which could live only wicked spirits. This was what the prisoner of the +Ojibways said. He, too, was an old man. + +"The captive of my brother Greysolon was an Outagamie, and he said that +the Outagamies burned this prisoner of the Ojibways, for they knew that +he was surely lying to them. Without doubt they did quite right to burn +him, for the notion of a great open country without trees or streams is, +of course, absurd to any one who knows America. And as for mountains, +all men know that the mountains lie to the east of us, not to the +westward." + +"'Twould seem much hearsay," said Law, "this information which comes at +second, third and fourth hand." + +"True," said Du Mesne, "but such is the source of the little we know of +the valley of the Messasebe, and that which lies beyond it. None the +less this idea offers interest." + +"Yet you ask me if I would return." + +"'Twas but for yourself, Monsieur. It is there, if I may humbly confess +to you, that it is my own ambition some day to arrive. Myself--this +West, as I said long ago to the gentlemen in London--appeals to me, +since it is indeed a land unoccupied, unowned, an empire which we may +have all for ourselves. What say you, Monsieur L'as?" + +John Law straightened and stiffened as he stood. For an instant his eye +flashed with the zeal of youth and of adventure. It was but a transient +cloud which crossed his face, yet there was sadness in his tone as he +replied. + +"My friend," said he, "you ask me for my answer. I have pondered and I +now decide. We shall go on. We shall go forward. Let us have this West, +my friend. Heaven helping us, let me find somewhere, in some land, a +place where I may be utterly lost, and where I may forget!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE PATHWAY OF THE WATERS + + +The news of the intended departure was received with joy by the crew of +_voyageurs_, who, on the warning of an instant, fell forthwith to the +simple tasks of breaking camp and storing the accustomed bales and +bundles in their places in the great _canot du Nord_. + +"_La voilà_!" said Tête Gris. "Here she sits, this canoe, eager to go +on. 'Tis forward again, _mes amis_! Forward once more; and glad enough +am I for this day. We shall see new lands ere long." + +"For my part," said Jean Breboeuf, "I also am most anxious to be away, +for I have eaten this white-fish until I crave no more. I had bethought +me how excellent are the pumpkins of the good fathers at the Straits; +and indeed I would we had with us more of that excellent fruit, the +bean." + +"Bah! Jean Breboeuf," retorted Pierre Noir. "'Tis but a poor-hearted +_voyageur_ would hang about a mission garden with a hoe in his hand +instead of a gun. Perhaps the good sisters at the Mountain miss thy +skill at pulling weeds." + +"Nay, now, I can live as long on fish and flesh as any man," replied +Jean Breboeuf, stoutly, "nor do I hold myself, Monsieur Tête Gris, one +jot in courage back of any man upon the trail." + +"Of course not, save in time of storm," grinned Tête Gris. "Then, it is +'Holy Mary, witness my vow of a bale of beaver!' It is--" + +"Well, so be it," said Jean Breboeuf, stoutly. "'Tis sure a bale of +beaver will come easily enough in these new lands; and--though I insist +again that I have naught of superstition in my soul--when a raven sits +on a tree near camp and croaks of a morning before breakfast--as upon my +word of honor was the case this morning--there must be some ill fate in +store for us, as doth but stand to reason." + +"But say you so?" said Tête Gris, pausing at his task, with his face +assuming a certain seriousness. + +"Assuredly," said Jean Breboeuf. "'Tis as I told you. Moreover, I insist +to you, my brothers, that the signs have not been right for this trip at +any time. For myself, I look for nothing but disaster." + +The humor of Jean Breboeuf's very gravity appealed so strongly to his +older comrades that they broke out into laughter, and so all fell again +to their tasks, in sheer light-heartedness forgetting the superstitions +of their class. + +Thus at length the party took ship again, and in time made the head of +the great bay within whose arms they had been for some time encamped. +They won up over the sullen rapids of the river which came into the bay, +toiling sometimes waist-deep at the _cordelle_, yet complaining not at +all. So in time they came out on the wide expanse of the shallow lake of +the Winnebagoes, which body of water they crossed directly, coming into +the quiet channel of the stream which fell in upon its western shore. Up +this stream in turn steadily they passed, amid a panorama filled with +constant change. Sometimes the gentle river bent away in long curves, +with hardly a ripple upon its placid surface, save where now and again +some startled fish sprang into the air in fright or sport, or in the +rush upon its prey. Then the stream would lead away into vast seas of +marsh lands, waving in illimitable reaches of rushes, or fringed with +the unspeakably beautiful green of the graceful wild rice plant. + +In these wide levels now and again the channel divided, or lost itself +in little _cul de sacs_, from which the paddlers were obliged to retrace +their way. All about them rose myriads of birds and wild fowl, which +made their nests among these marshes, and the babbling chatter of the +rail, the high-keyed calling of the coot, or the clamoring of the +home-building mallard assailed their ears hour after hour as they passed +on between the leafy shores. Then, again, the channel would sweep to one +side of the marsh, and give view to wide vistas of high and rolling +lands, dotted with groves of hardwood, with here and there a swamp of +cedar or of tamarack. Little herds of elk and droves of deer fed on the +grass-covered slopes, as fat, as sleek and fearless of mankind as though +they dwelt domesticated in some noble park. + +It was a land obviously but little known, even to the most adventurous, +and as chance would have it, they met not even a wandering party of the +native tribes. Clearly now the little boat was climbing, climbing slowly +and gently, yet surely, upward from the level of the great Lake +Michiganon. In time the little river broadened and flattened out into +wide, shallow expanses, the waters known as the Lakes of the Foxes; and +beyond that it became yet more shallow and uncertain, winding among +quaking bogs and unknown marshes; yet still, whether by patience, or by +cheerfulness, or by determination, the craft stood on and on, and so +reached that end of the waterway which, in the opinion of the more +experienced Du Mesne, must surely be the place known among the Indian +tribes as the "Place for the carrying of boats." + +Here they paused for a few days, at that mild summit of land which marks +the portage between the east bound and the west bound waters; yet, +impelled ever by the eager spirit of the adventurer, they made their +pause but short. In time they launched their craft on the bright, smooth +flood of the river of the Ouisconsins, stained coppery-red by its +far-off, unknown course in the north, where it had bathed leagues of the +roots of pine and tamarack and cedar. They passed on steadily westward, +hour after hour, with the current of this great stream, among little +islands covered with timber; passed along bars of white sand and flats +of hardwood; beyond forest-covered knolls, in the openings of which one +might now and again see great vistas of a scenery now peaceful and now +bold, with turreted knolls and sweeping swards of green, as though some +noble house of old England were set back secluded within these wide and +well-kept grounds. The country now rapidly lost its marshy character, +and as they approached the mouth of the great stream, it being now well +toward the middle of the summer, they reached, suddenly and without +forewarning, that which they long had sought. + +The sturdy paddlers were bending to their tasks, each broad back +swinging in unison forward and back over the thwart, each brown throat +bared to the air, each swart head uncovered to the glare of the midday +sun, each narrow-bladed paddle keeping unison with those before and +behind, the hand of the paddler never reaching higher than his chin, +since each had learned the labor-saving fashion of the Indian canoeman. +The day was bright and cheery, the air not too ardent, and across the +coppery waters there stretched slants of shadow from the embowering +forest trees. They were alone, these travelers; yet for the time at +least part of them seemed care-free and quite abandoned to the sheer +zest of life. There arose again, after the fashion of the _voyageurs_, +the measure of the paddling song, without which indeed the paddler had +not been able to perform his labor at the thwart. + + "_Dans mon chemin j'ai rencontré_--" + +chanted the leader; and voices behind him responded lustily with the +next line: + + "_Trois cavaliers bien montés_--" + "_Trois cavaliers bien montés_--" + +chanted the leader again. + + + "_L'un à cheval et l'autre à pied_--" + +came the response; and then the chorus: + + "_Lon, lon laridon daine-- + Lon, lon laridon dai!_" + +The great boat began to move ahead steadily and more swiftly, and bend +after bend of the river was rounded by the rushing prow. None knew this +country, nor wist how far the journey might carry him. None knew as of +certainty that he would ever in this way reach the great Messasebe; or +even if he thought that such would be the case, did any one know how far +that Messasebe still might be. Yet there came a time in the afternoon of +that day, even as the chant of the _voyageurs_ still echoed on the +wooded bluffs, and even as the great birch-bark ship still responded +swiftly to their gaiety, when, on a sudden turn in the arm of the river, +there appeared wide before them a scene for which they had not been +prepared. There, rippling and rolling under the breeze, as though itself +the arm of some great sea, they saw a majestic flood, whose real nature +and whose name each man there knew on the instant and instinctively. + +"Messasebe! Messasebe!" broke out the voices of the paddlers. + +"Stop the paddles!" cried Du Mesne. "_Voilà_!" + +John Law rose in the bow of the boat and uncovered his head. It was a +noble prospect which lay before him. His was the soul of the adventurer, +quick to respond to challenge. There was a fluttering in his throat as +he stood and gazed out upon this solemn, mysterious and tremendous +flood, coming whence, going whither, none might say. He gazed and gazed, +and it was long before the shadow crossed his face and before he drew a +sigh. + +"Madam," said he, at length, turning until he faced Mary Connynge, "this +is the West. We have chosen, and we have arrived!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +MESSASEBE + + +The boat, now lacking its propelling power, drifted on and out into the +clear tide of the mighty stream. The paddlers were idle, and silence had +fallen upon all. The rush of this majestic flood, steady, mysterious, +secret-keeping, created a feeling of awe and wonder. They gazed and +gazed again, up the great waterway, across to its farther shore, along +its rolling course below, and still each man forgot his paddle, and +still the little ship of New France drifted on, just rocking gently in +the mimic waves which ruffled the face of the mighty Father of the +Waters. + +"By our Lady!" cried Du Mesne, at length, and tears stood in his +tan-framed eyes as he turned, "'tis true, all that has been said! Here +it is, Messasebe, more mighty than any story could have told! Monsieur +L'as, 'tis big enough to carry ships." + +"'Twill carry fleets of them one day, Du Mesne," replied John Law. "'Tis +a roadway fit for a nation. Ah, Du Mesne! our St. Lawrence, our New +France--they dwindle when compared to this new land." + +"Aye! and 'tis all our own!" cried Du Mesne. "Look; for the last ten +days we have scarce seen even the smoke of a wigwam, and, so far as I +can tell, there is not in all this valley now the home of a single white +man. My friend Du L'hut--he may be far north of the Superior to-day for +aught we know, or somewhere among the Sauteur people. If there he any +man below us, let some one else tell who that may be. Sir, I promise +you, when I see this big water going on so fast and heading so far away +from home--well, I admit it causes me to shiver!" + +"'Tis much the same," said Law, "where home may be for me." + +"Ah, but 'tis different on the Lakes," said Du Mesne, "for there we +always knew the way back, and knew that 'twas down stream." + +"He says well," broke in Mary Connynge. "There is something in this big +river that chills me. I am afraid." + +"And what say you, Tête Gris, and you, Pierre Noir?" asked Law. + +"Why, myself," replied the former, "I am with the captain. It matters +not. There must always be one trail from which one does not return." + +"_Oui_," said Pierre Noir. "To be sure, we have passed as good beaver +country as heart of man could ask; but never was land so good but there +was better just beyond." + +"They say well, Du Mesne," spoke John Law, presently; "'tis better on +beyond. Suppose we never do return? Did I not say to you that I would +leave this other world as far behind me as might be?" + +"_Eh bien_, Monsieur L'as, you reply with spirit, as ever," replied Du +Mesne, "and it is not for me to stand in the way. My own fortune and +family are also with me, and home is where my fire is lit." + +"Very well," replied Law. "Let us run the river to its mouth, if need +be. 'Tis all one to me. And whether we get back or not, 'tis another +tale." + +"Oh, I make no doubt we shall win back if need be," replied Du Mesne. +"'Tis said the savages know the ways by the Divine River of the Illini +to the foot of Michiganon; and that, perhaps, might be our best way back +to the Lakes and to the Mountain with our beaver. We shall, provided we +reach the Divine River, as I should guess by the stories I have heard, +be then below the Illini, the Ottawas and the Miamis, with I know not +what tribes from west of the Messasebe. 'Tis for you to say, Monsieur +L'as, but for my own part--and 'tis but a hazard at best--I would say +remain here, or press on to the river of the Illini." + +"'Tis easy of decision, then," replied Law, after a moment of +reflection. "We take that course which leads us farther on at least. +Again the paddles, my friends! To-night we sup in our own kingdom. +Strike up the song, Du Mesne!" + +A shout of approval broke from the hardy men along the boat side, and +even Jean Breboeuf tossed up his cap upon his paddle shaft. + +"Forward, then, _mes amis_!" cried Du Mesne, setting his own +paddle-blade deep into the flood. "_En roulant ma boule, roulant_--" + +Again the chorus rose, and again the hardy craft leaped onward into the +unexplored. + +Day after day following this the journey was resumed, and day after day +the travelers with eager eyes witnessed a prospect of continual change. +The bluffs, bolder and more gigantic, towered more precipitous than the +banks of the gentler streams which they had left behind. Forests ranged +down to the shores, and wide, green-decked islands crept into view, and +little timbered valleys of lesser streams came marching down to the +imposing flood of Messasebe. Again the serrated bluffs broke back and +showed vast vistas of green savannas, covered with tall, waving grasses, +broken by little rolling hills, over which crossed herds of elk, and +buffalo, and deer. + +"'Tis a land of plenty," said Du Mesne one day, breaking the habitual +silence into which the party had fallen. "'Tis a great land, and a +mighty. And now, Monsieur, I know why the Indians say 'tis guarded by +spirits. Sure, I can myself feel something in the air which makes my +shoulder-blades to creep." + +"'Tis a mighty land, and full of wonders," assented Law, who, in +different fashion, had felt the same mysterious spell of this great +stream. For himself, he was nearer to reverence than ever yet he had +been in all his wild young life. + +Now so it happened that at length, after a long though rapid journey +down the great river, they came to that stream which they took to be the +river of the Illini. This they ascended, and so finally, early in one +evening, at the bank of a wide and placid bayou, shaded by willows and +birch trees, and by great elms that bore aloft a canopy of clinging +vines, they made a landing for the bivouac which was to prove their +final tarrying place. The great _canot du Nord_ came to rest at the foot +of a timbered hill, back of which stretched high, rolling prairies, +dotted with little groves and broken with wide swales and winding +sloughs. The leaders of the party, with Tête Gris and Pierre Noir, +ascended the bluffs and made brief exploration; not more, as was tacitly +understood, with view to choosing the spot for the evening encampment +than with the purpose of selecting a permanent stopping place. Du Mesne +at length turned to Law with questioning gaze. John Law struck the earth +with his heel. + +"Here!" said he. "Here let us stop. 'Tis as well as any place. There are +flowers and trees, and meadows and hedges, like to those of England. +Here let us stay!" + +"Ah, you say well indeed!" cried Du Mesne, "and may fortune send us +happy enterprises." + +"But then, for the houses," continued Law. "I presume we must keep close +to this little stream which flows from the bluff. And yet we must have a +place whence we can obtain good view. Then, with stout walls to protect +us, we might--but see! What is that beyond? Look! There is, if I mistake +not, a house already builded!" + +"'Tis true, as I live!" cried Du Mesne, lowering his voice +instinctively, as his quick eye caught the spot where Law was pointing. +"But, good God! what can it mean?" + +They advanced cautiously into the little open space beyond them, a glade +but a few hundred yards across and lined by encircling trees. They saw +indeed a habitation erected by human hands, apparently not altogether +without skill. There were rude walls of logs, reinforced by stakes +planted in the ground. From the four corners of the inclosure projected +overhanging beams. There was an opening in the inclosure, as they +discovered upon closer approach, and entering at this rude door, the +party looked about them curiously. + +Du Mesne shut his lips tight together. This was no house built by the +hands of white men. There were here no quarters, no shops, no chapel +with its little bell. Instead there stood a few dried and twisted poles, +and all around lay the litter of an abandoned camp. + +"Iroquois, by the living Mother of God!" cried Pierre Noir. + +"Look!" cried Tête Gris, calling them again outside the inclosure. He +stood kicking in the ashes of what had been a fire-place. He disclosed, +half buried in the charred embers, an iron kettle into which he gazed +curiously. He turned away as John Law stepped up beside him. + +"There must have been game here in plenty," said Law. "There are bones +scattered all about." + +Du Mesne and Tête Gris looked at each other in silence, and the former +at length replied: + +"This is an Iroquois war house, Monsieur L'as," said he. "They lived +here for more than a month, and, as you say, they fed well. But these +bones you see are not the bones of elk or deer. They are the bones of +men, and women, and children." + +Law stood taking in each detail of the scene about him. + +"Now you have seen what is before us," resumed Du Mesne. "The Iroquois +have gone, 'tis true. They have wiped out the villages which were here. +There are the little cornfields, but I warrant you they have not seen a +tomahawk hoe for a month or more. The Iroquois have gone, yet the fact +that they have been here proves they may come again. What say you, Tête +Gris; and what is your belief, Pierre?" + +Tête Gris remained silent for some moments. "'Tis as Monsieur says," +replied he at length. "'Tis all one to me. I go or stay, as it shall +please the others. There is always the one trail over which one does not +return." + +"And you, Pierre?" + +"I stay by my friends," replied Pierre Noir, briefly. + +"And you, Monsieur L'as?" asked Du Mesne. + +Law raised his head with the old-time determination. "My friends," said +he, "we have elected to come into this country and take its conditions +as we find them. If we falter, we lose; of that we may rest assured. +Let us not turn back because a few savages have been here and have +slaughtered a few other savages. For me, there seems but one opinion +possible. The lightning has struck, yet it may not strike again at the +same tree. The Iroquois have been here, but they have departed, and they +have left nothing to invite their return. Now, it is necessary that we +make a pause and build some place for our abode. Here is a post already +half builded to our hands." + +"But if the savages return?" said Du Mesne. + +"Then we will fight," said John Law. + +"And right you are," replied Du Mesne. "Your reasoning is correct. I +vote that we build here our station." + +"Myself also," said Tête Gris. And Pierre Noir nodded his assent in +silence. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MAIZE + + +"Ola! Jean Breboeuf," called out Du Mesne to that worthy, who presently +appeared, breathing hard from his climb up the river bluff. "Know you +what has been concluded?" + +"No; how should I guess?" replied Jean Breboeuf. "Or, at least, if I +should guess, what else should I guess save that we are to take boat at +once and set back to Montréal as fast as we may? But that--what is this? +Whose house is that yonder?" + +"'Tis our own, _mon enfant_," replied Du Mesne, dryly. "'Twas perhaps +the property of the Iroquois a moon ago. A moon before that time the +soil it stands on belonged to the Illini. To-day both house and soil +belong to us. See; here stood the village. There are the cornfields, cut +and trampled by the Iroquois. Here are the kettles of the natives--" + +"But, but--why--what is all this? Why do we not hasten away?" broke in +Jean Breboeuf. + +"Pish! We do not go away. We remain where we are." + +"Remain? Stay here, and be eaten by the Iroquois? Nay! not Jean +Breboeuf." + +Du Mesne smiled broadly at his terrors, and a dry grin even broke over +the features of the impassive old trapper, Tête Gris. + +"Not so fast with your going away, Jean, my brother," said Du Mesne. +"Thou'rt ever hinting of corn and the bean; now see what can be done in +this garden-place of the Iroquois and the Illini. You are appointed head +gardener for the post!" + +"Messieurs, _me voilà_," said Jean Breboeuf, dropping his hands in +despair. "Were I not the bravest man in all New France I should leave +you at this moment. It is mad, quite mad you are, every one of you! I, +Jean Breboeuf, will remain, and, if necessary, will protect. Corn, and +perhaps the bean, ye shall have; perhaps even some of those little roots +that the savages dig and eat; but, look you, this is but because you are +with one who is brave. _Enfin_, I go. I bend me to the hoe, here in this +place, like any peasant." + +"An excellent hoe can be made from the blade bone of an elk, as the +woman Wabana will perhaps show you if you like," said Pierre Noir, +derisively, to his comrade of the paddle. + +"Even so," said Jean Breboeuf. "I make me the hoe. Could I have but +thee, old Pierre, to sit on a stump and fright the crows away, I make no +doubt that all would go well with our husbandry. I had as lief go +_censitaire_ for Monsieur L'as as for any seignieur on the Richelieu; of +that be sure, old Pierre." + +"Faith," replied the latter, "when it comes to frightening crows, I'll +even agree to sit on a stump with my musket across my knees and watch +you work. 'Tis a good place for a sentinel--to keep the crows from +picking yet more bones than these which will embarrass you in your +hoeing, Jean Breboeuf." + +"He says the Richelieu, Du Mesne," broke in John Law, musingly. "Very +far away it sounds. I wonder if we shall ever see it again, with its +little narrow farms. But here we have our own trails and our own lands, +and let us hope that Monsieur Jean shall prosper in his belated farming. +And now, for the rest of us, we must look presently to the building of +our houses." + +Thus began, slowly and in primitive fashion, the building of one of the +first cities of the vast valley of the Messasebe; the seeds of +civilization taking hold upon the ground of barbarism, the one +supplanting the other, yet availing itself of that other. As the white +men took over the crude fields of the departed savages, so also they +appropriated the imperfect edifice which the conquerors of those savages +had left for them. It was in little the story of old England herself, +builded upon the races and the ruins of Briton, and Roman, and Saxon, of +Dane and Norman. + +Under the direction of Law, the walls of the old war house were +strengthened with an inner row of palisades, supporting an embankment of +earth and stone. The overlap of the gate was extended into a re-entrant +angle, and rude battlements were erected at the four corners of the +inclosure. The little stream of unfailing water was led through a corner +of the fortress. In the center of the inclosure they built the houses; a +cabin for Law, one for the men, and a larger one to serve as store room +and as trading place, should there be opportunity for trade. + +It was in these rude quarters that Law and his companion established +that which was the nearest approach to a home that either for the time +might claim; and it was thus that both undertook once more that old and +bootless human experiment of seeking to escape from one's own self. +Silent now, and dutifully obedient enough was this erstwhile English +beauty, Mary Connynge; yet often and often Law caught the question of +her gaze. And often enough, too, he found his own questioning running +back up the water trails, and down the lakes and across the wide ocean, +in a demand which, fiercer and fiercer as it grew, he yet remained too +bitter and too proud to put to the proof by any means now within his +power. Strange enough, savage enough, hopeless enough, was this wild +home of his in the wilderness of the Messasebe. + +The smoke of the new settlement rose steadily day by day, but it gave +signal for no watching enemy. All about stretched the pale green ocean +of the grasses, dotted by many wild flowers, nodding and bowing like +bits of fragile flotsam on the surface of a continually rolling sea. The +little groves of timber, scattered here and there, sheltered from the +summer sun the wild cattle of the plains. The shorter grasses hid the +coveys of the prairie hens, and on the marsh-grown bayou banks the wild +duck led her brood. A great land, a rich, a fruitful one, was this that +lay about these adventurers. + +A soberness had come over the habit of the master mind of this little +colony. His hand took up the ax, and forgot the sword and gun. Day after +day he stood looking about him, examining and studying in little all the +strange things which he saw; seeking to learn as much as might be of +the timorous savages, who in time began to straggle back to their ruined +villages; talking, as best he might, through such interpreting as was +possible, with savages who came from the west of the Messasebe, and from +the South and from the far Southwest; hearing, and learning and +wondering of a land which seemed as large as all the earth, and various +as all the lands that lay beneath the sun--that West, so glorious, so +new, so boundless, which was yet to be the home of countless +hearth-fires and the sites of myriad fields of corn. Let others hunt, +and fish, and rob the Indians of their furs, after the accepted fashion +of the time; as for John Law, he must look about him, and think, and +watch this growing of the corn. + +He saw it fairly from its beginning, this growth of the maize, this +plant which never yet had grown on Scotch or English soil; this tall, +beautiful, broad-bladed, tender tree, the very emblem of all +fruitfulness. He saw here and there, dropped by the careless hand of +some departed Indian woman, the little germinating seeds, just thrusting +their pale-green heads up through the soil, half broken by the tomahawk. +He saw the clustering green shoots--numerous, in the sign of plenty--all +crowding together and clamoring for light, and life, and air, and room. +He saw the prevailing of the tall and strong upthrusting stalks, after +the way of life; saw the others dwarf and whiten, and yet cling on at +the base of the bolder stem, parasites, worthless, yet existing, after +the way of life. + +He saw the great central stalks spring boldly up, so swiftly that it +almost seemed possible to count the successive leaps of progress. He saw +the strong-ribbed leaves thrown out, waving a thousand hands of cheerful +welcome and assurance--these blades of the corn, so much mightier than +any blades of steel. He saw the broad beckoning banners of the pale +tassels bursting out atop of the stalk, token of fecundity and of the +future. He caught the wide-driven pollen as it whitened upon the earth, +borne by the parent West Wind, mother of increase. He saw the thickening +of the green leaf at the base, its swelling, its growth and expansion, +till the indefinite enlargement showed at length the incipient ear. + +He noted the faint brown of the ends of the sweetly-enveloping silk of +the ear, pale-green and soft underneath the sheltering and protecting +husk. He found the sweet and milk-white tender kernels, row upon row, +forming rapidly beneath the husk, and saw at length the hardening and +darkening of the husk at its free end, which told that man might pluck +and eat. + +And then he saw the fading of the tassels, the darkening of the silk +and the crinkling of the blades; and there, borne on the strong parent +stem, he noted now the many full-rowed ears, protected by their husks +and heralded by the tassels and the blades. "Come, come ye, all ye +people! Enter in, for I will feed ye all!" This was the song of the +maize, its invitation, its counsel, its promise. + +Under the warped lodge frames which the fires of the Iroquois had +spared, there were yet visible clusters of the ears of last year's corn. +Here, under his own eye, were growing yet other ears, ripe for the +harvesting and ripe for the coming growth. A strange spell fell upon the +soul of Law. Visions crossed his mind, born in the soft warm air of +these fecundating winds, of this strange yet peaceful scene. + +At times he stood and looked out from the door of the palisade, when the +prairie mists were rising in the morning at the mandate of the sun, and +to his eyes these waving seas of grasses all seemed beckoning fields of +corn. These smokes, coming from the broken tepees of the timid +tribesmen, surely they arose from the roofs of happy and contented +homes! These wreaths and wraiths of the twisting and wide-stalking +mists, surely these were the captains of a general husbandry! Ah, John +Law, John Law! Had God given thee the right feeling and contented +heart, happy indeed had been these days in this new land of thine own, +far from ignoble strivings and from fevered dreams, far from aimless +struggles and unregulated avarice, far from oppression and from misery, +far from bickerings, heart-burnings and envyings! Ah, John Law! Had God +but given thee the pure and well-contented heart! For here in the +Messasebe, that Mind which made the universe and set man to be one of +its little inhabitants--surely that Mind had planned that man should +come and grow in this place, tall and strong, and fruitful, useful to +all the world, even as this swift, strong growing of the maize. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE BRINK OF CHANGE + + +The breath of autumn came into the air. The little flowers which had +dotted the grassy robe of the rolling hills had long since faded away +under the ardent sun, and now there appeared only the denuded stalks of +the mulleins and the flaunting banners of the goldenrod. The wild grouse +shrank from the edges of the little fields and joined their numbers into +general bands, which night and morn crossed the country on sustained and +strong-winged flight. The plumage of the young wild turkeys, stalking in +droves among the open groves, began to emulate the iridescent splendors +of their elders. The marshes above the village became the home of yet +more numerous thousands of clamoring wild fowl, and high up against the +blue there passed, on the south-bound journey, the harrow of the wild +geese, wending their way from North to South across an unknown empire. + +A chill came into the waters of the river, so that the bass and pike +sought out the deeper pools. The squirrels busily hoarded up supplies +of the nuts now ripening. The antlers of the deer and the elk which +emerged from the concealing thickets now showed no longer ragged strips +of velvet, and their tips were polished in the preliminary fitting for +the fall season of love and combat. There came nights when the white +frost hung heavy upon all the bending grasses and the broad-leafed +plants, a frost which seared the maize leaves and set aflame the foliage +of the maples all along the streams, and decked in a hundred flamboyant +tones the leaves of the sumach and all the climbing vines. + +As all things now presaged the coming winter, so there approached also +the time when the little party, so long companions upon the Western +trails, must for the first time know division. Du Mesne, making ready +for the return trip over the unknown waterways back to the Lakes, as had +been determined to be necessary, spoke of it as though the journey were +but an affair of every day. + +"Make no doubt, Monsieur L'as," said he, "that I shall ascend this river +of the Illini and reach Michiganon well before the snows. Once at the +mission of the Miamis, or the village at the river Chicaqua, I shall be +quite safe for the winter, if I decide not to go farther on. Then, in +the spring, I make no doubt, I shall be able to trade our furs at the +Straits, if I like not the long run down to the Mountain. Thus, you see, +I may be with you again sometime within the following spring." + +"I hope it may be so, my friend," replied Law, "for I shall miss you +sadly enough." + +"'Tis nothing, Monsieur; you will be well occupied. Suppose I take with +me Kataikini and Kabayan, perhaps also Tête Gris. That will give us four +paddlers for the big canoe, and you will still have left Pierre Noir and +Jean, to say nothing of our friends the Illini hereabout, who will be +glad enough to make cause with you in case of need. I will leave Wabana +for madame, and trust she may prove of service. See to it, pray you, +that she observes the offices of the church; for methinks, unless +watched, Wabana is disposed to become careless and un-Christianized." + +"This I will look to," said Law, smiling. + +"Then all is well," resumed Du Mesne, "and my absence will be but a +little thing, as we measure it on the trails. You may find a winter +alone in the wilderness a bit dull for you, mayhap duller than were it +in London, or even in Quebec. Yet 'twill pass, and in time we shall meet +again. Perhaps some good father will be wishing to come back with me to +set up a mission among the Illini. These good fathers, they so delight +in losing fingers, and ears, and noses for the good of the +Church--though where the Church be glorified therein I sometimes can not +say. Perhaps some leech--mayhap some artisan--" + +"Nay, 'tis too far a spot, Du Mesne, to tempt others than ourselves." + +"Upon the contrary rather, Monsieur L'as. It is matter for laughter to +see the efforts of Louis and his ministers to keep New France chained to +the St. Lawrence! Yet my good lord governor might as well puff out his +cheeks against the north wind as to try to keep New France from pouring +west into the Messasebe; and as much might be said for those good rulers +of the English colonies, who are seeking ever to keep their people east +of the Alleghanies." + +"'Tis the Old World over again, there in the St. Lawrence," said Law. + +"Right you are, Monsieur L'as," exclaimed Du Mesne. "New France is but +an extension of the family of Louis. The intendant reports everything to +the king. Monsieur So-and-so is married. Very well, the king must know +it! Monsieur's eldest daughter is making sheep's eyes at such and such a +soldier of the regiment of the king. Very well, this is weighty matter, +of which the king must be advised! Monsieur's wife becomes expectant of +a son and heir. 'Tis meet that Louis the Great should be advised of +this! Mother of God! 'Tis a pretty mess enough back there on the St. +Lawrence, where not a hen may cackle over its new-laid egg but the king +must know it, and where not a family has meat enough for its children to +eat nor clothes enough to cover them. My faith, in that poor medley of +little lords and lazy vassals, how can you wonder that the best of us +have risen and taken to the woods! Yet 'tis we who catch their beaver +for them; and if God and the king be willing, sometime we shall get a +certain price for our beaver--provided God and the king furnish currency +to pay us; and that the governor, the priest and the intendant ratify +the acts of God and the king!" + +Law smiled at the sturdy vehemence of the other's speech, yet there was +something of soberness in his own reply. + +"Sir," said he, "you see here my little crooked rows of maize. Look you, +the beaver will pass away, but the roots of the corn will never be torn +out. Here is your wealth, Du Mesne." + +The sturdy captain scratched his head. "I only know, for my part," said +he, "that I do not care for the settlements. Not that I would not be +glad to see the king extend his arm farther to the West, for these +sullen English are crowding us more and more along our borders. Surely +the land belongs to him who finds it." + +"Perhaps better to him who can both find and hold it. But this soil will +one day raise up a people of its own." + +"Yet as to that," rejoined Du Mesne, as the two turned and walked back +to the stockade, "we are not here to handle the affairs of either Louis +or William. Let us e'en leave that to monsieur the intendant, and +monsieur the governor, and our friends, the gray owls and the black +crows, the Recollets and the Jesuits. I mind to call this spot home with +you, if you like. I shall be back as soon as may be with the things we +need, and we shall plant here no starving colony, but one good enough +for the home of any man. Monsieur, I wish you very well, and I may +congratulate you on your daughter. A heartier infant never was born +anywhere on the water trail between the Mountain and the Messasebe. What +name have you chosen for the young lady, Monsieur?" + +"I have decided," said John Law, "to call her Catharine." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +TOUS SAUVAGES + + +Had nature indeed intended Law for the wild life of the trail, and had +he indeed spent years rather than months among these unusual scenes, he +could hardly have been better fitted for the part. Hardy of limb, keen +of eye, tireless of foot, with a hand which any weapon fitted, his +success as hunter made his companions willing enough to assign to him +the chase of the bison or the stag; so that he became not only patron +but provider for the camp. + +Some weeks after the departure of Du Mesne, Law was returning from the +hunt some miles below the station. His tall and powerful figure, +hardened by continued outdoor exercise, was scarce bowed by the weight +of the wild buck which he bore across his shoulders. His eye, accustomed +to the instant readiness demanded in the _voyageur's_ life, glanced +keenly about, taking in each item of the scene, each movement of the +little bird on the tree, the rustling of the grass where a rabbit +started from its form, the whisk of the gray squirrel's tail on the +limb far overhead. + +The touch of autumn was now in the air. The leaves of the wild grapevine +were falling. The oaks had donned garments of somber brown, the +hickories had lost their leaves, while here and there along the river +shores the flaming sentinels of the maples had changed their scarlet +uniform for one of duller hue. The wild rice in the marshes had shed its +grain upon the mud banks. The acorns were loosening in their cups. Fall +in the West, gorgeous, beautiful, had now set in, of all the seasons of +the year, that most loved by the huntsman. + +This tall, lean man, clad in buckskin like a savage, brown almost as a +savage, as active and as alert, seemed to fit not ill with these +environments, nor to lack either confidence or contentment. He walked on +steadily, following the path along the bayou bank, and at length paused +for a moment, throwing down his burden and stooping to drink at the tiny +pool made by the little rivulet which trickled down the face of the +bluff. Here he bathed his face and hands in the cool stream, for the +moment abandoning himself to that rest which the hunter earns. It was +when at length he raised his head and turned to resume his burden that +his suspicious eye caught a glimpse of something which sent him in a +flash below the level of the grasses, and thence to the cover of a tree +trunk. + +As he gazed from his hiding-place he saw the tawny waters of the bayou +broken into a long series of advancing ripples. Passing the fringe of +wild rice, swimming down beneath the heavy cordage of the wild +grapevines, there came on two canoes, roughly made of elm bark, in +fashion which would have shown an older frontiersman full proof of their +Western origin. + +In the bow of the foremost boat, as Law could now clearly see, sat a +slender young man, clad in the uniform, now soiled and faded, of a +captain in the British army. His boat was propelled by four dusky +paddlers, Indians of the East. Stalwart, powerful, silent, they sent the +craft on down stream, their keen eyes glancing swiftly from one point to +the other of the ever-changing panorama, yet finding nothing that would +seem to warrant pause. Back of the first boat by a short distance came a +kindred craft, its crew comprising two white men and two Indian +paddlers. Of the white men, one might have been a petty officer, the +other perhaps a private soldier. + +It was, then, as Du Mesne had said. Every party bound into the West must +pass this very point upon the river of the Illini. But why should these +be present here? Were they friends or foes? So queried the watcher, +tense and eager as a waiting panther, now crouched with straining eye +behind the sheltering tree. + +[Illustration] + +As the leading boat swung clear of the shadows, the man in the prow +turned his face, scanning closely the shore of the stream. As he did so, +Law half started to his feet, and a moment later stepped from his +concealment. He gazed again and again, doubting what he saw. Surely +those clean-cut, handsome features could belong to no man but his former +friend, Sir Arthur Pembroke! + +Yet how could Sir Arthur be here? What could be his errand, and how had +he been guided hither? These sudden questions might, upon the instant, +have confused a brain ready as that of this observer, who paused not to +reflect that this meeting, seemingly so impossible, was in fact the most +natural thing in the world; indeed, could scarce have been avoided by +any one traveling with Indian guides down the waterway to the Messasebe. + +The keen eyes of the red paddlers caught sight of the crushed grasses at +the little landing on the bayou bank, even as Law rose from his +hiding-place. A swift, concerted sweep of the paddles sent the boat +circling out into midstream, and before Law knew it he was covered by +half a dozen guns. He hardly noticed this. His own gun he left leaning +against a tree, and his hand was thrown out high, in front of him as he +came on, calling out to those in the stream. He heard the command of the +leader in the boat, and a moment later both canoes swung inshore. + +"Have down your guns, Sir Arthur," cried Law, loudly and gaily. "We are +none but friends here. Come in, and tell me that it is yourself, and not +some miracle of mine eyes." + +The young man so surprisingly addressed half started from the thwart in +his amazement. His face bent into an incredulous frown, scarce carrying +comprehension, even as he approached the shore. As he left the boat, for +an instant Pembroke's hand was half extended in greeting, yet a swift +change came over his countenance, and his body stiffened. + +"Is it indeed you, Mr. Law?" he said. "I could not have believed myself +so fortunate." + +"'Tis myself and no one else," replied Law. "But why this melodrama, Sir +Arthur? Why reject my hand?" + +"I have sworn to extend to you no hand but that bearing a weapon, Mr. +Law!" said Pembroke. "This may be accident, but it seems to me the +justice of God. Oh, you have run far, Mr. Law--" + +"What mean you, Sir Arthur?" exclaimed Law, his face assuming the dull +red of anger. "I have gone where I pleased, and asked no man's leave for +it, and I shall live as I please and ask no man's leave for that. I +admit that it seems almost a miracle to meet you here, but come you one +way or the other, you come best without riddles, and still better +without threats." + +"You are not armed," said Sir Arthur. He gazed at the bronzed figure +before him, clad in fringed tunic and leggings of deer hide; at the belt +with little knife and ax, at the gun which now rested in the hollow of +his arm. Law himself laughed keenly. + +"Why, as to that," said he, "I had thought myself well enough equipped. +But as for a sword, 'tis true my hand is more familiar, these days, with +the ax and gun." + +"The late Jessamy Law shows change in his capacity of renegade," said +Pembroke, raspingly. His face displayed a scorn which jumped ill with +the nature of the man before him. + +"I am what I am, Sir Arthur," said Law, "and what I was. And always I am +at any man's service who is in search of what you call God's justice, or +what I may call personal satisfaction. I doubt not we shall find my +other trinkets in good order not far away. But meantime, before you +turn my hospitality into shame, bring on your men and follow me." + +His face working with emotion, Law turned away. He caught up the body of +the dead buck, and tossing it across his shoulders, strode up the +winding pathway. + +"Come, Gray, and Ellsworth," said Pembroke. "Get your men together. We +shall see what there is to this." + +At the summit of the river-bluff Law awaited their arrival. He noted in +silence the look of surprise which crossed Pembroke's face as at length +they came into view of the little panorama of the stockade and its +surroundings. + +"This is my home, Sir Arthur," said he simply. "These are my fields. And +see, if I mistake not, yonder is some proof of the ability of my people +to care for themselves." + +He pointed to the gateway, from the loop-holes guarding which there +might now be seen protruding two long dark barrels, leveled in the +direction of the approaching party. There came a call from within the +palisade, and the sound of men running to take their places along the +wall. Law raised his hand, and the barrels of the guns were lowered. + +"This, then, is your hiding-place!" said Pembroke. + +"I call it not such. 'Tis public to the world." + +"Tush! You lack not in the least of your old conceit and assurance, Mr. +Law!" said Pembroke. + +"Nay, I lack not so much in assurance of myself," said Law, "as in my +patience, which I find, Sir Arthur, now begins to grow a bit short about +its breath. But since the courtesy of the trail demands somewhat, I say +to you, there is my home. Enter it as friend if you like, but if not, +come as you please. Did you indeed come bearing war, I should be obliged +to signify to you, Sir Arthur, that you are my prisoner. You see my +people." + +"Sir," replied Sir Arthur, blindly, "I have vowed to find you no matter +where you should go." + +"It would seem that your vow is well fulfilled. But now, since you deal +in mysteries, I shall even ask you definitely, Sir Arthur, who and what +are you? Why do you come hither, and how shall we regard you?" + +"I am, in the first place," said Sir Arthur, "messenger of my Lord +Bellomont, governor at Albany of our English colonies. I add my chief +errand, which has been to find Mr. Law, whom I would hold to an +accounting." + +"Oh, granted," replied Law, flicking lightly at the cuff of his tunic, +"yet your errand still carries mystery." + +"You have at least heard of the Peace of Ryswick, I presume?" + +"No; how should I? And why should I care?" + +"None the less, the king of England and the king of France are no longer +at war, nor are their colonies this side of the water. There are to be +no more raids between the colonies of New England and New France. The +Hurons are to give back their English prisoners, and the Iroquois are to +return all their captives to the French. The Western tribes are to +render up their prisoners also, be they French, English, Huron or +Iroquois. The errand of carrying this news was offered to me. It agreed +well enough with my own private purposes. I had tracked you, Mr. Law, to +Montréal, lost you on the Richelieu, and was glad enough to take up this +chance of finding you farther to the West. And now, by the justice of +heaven, as I have said, I have found you easily." + +"And has Sir Arthur gone to sheriffing? Has my friend become constable? +Is Sir Arthur a spy? Because, look you, this is not London, nor yet New +France, nor Albany. This is Messasebe! This is my valley. I rule here. +Now, if kings, or constables, or even spies, wish to find John +Law--why, here is John Law. Now watch your people, and go you carefully +here, else that may follow which will be ill extinguished." + +Pembroke flung down his sword upon the ground in front of him. + +"You are lucky, Mr. Law," said he, "lucky as ever. But surely, never was +man so eminently deserving of death as yourself." + +"You do me very much honor, Sir Arthur," replied Law. "Here is your +sword, sir." Stooping, he picked it up and handed it to the other. "I +did but ill if I refused to accord satisfaction to one bringing me such +speech as that. 'Tis well you wear your weapons, Sir Arthur, since you +come thus as emissary of the Great Peace! I know you for a gentleman, +and I shall ask no parole of you to-night; but meantime, let us wait +until to-morrow, when I promise you I shall be eager as yourself. Come! +We can stand here guessing and talking no longer. I am weary of it." + +They came now to the gate of the stockade, and there Pembroke stood for +a moment in surprise and perplexity. He was not prepared to meet this +dark-haired, wide-eyed girl, clad in native dress of skin, with tinkling +metals at wrist and ankle, and on her feet the tiny, beaded shoes. For +her part, Mary Connynge, filled with woman's curiosity, was yet less +prepared for that which appeared before her--an apparition, as ran her +first thought, come to threaten and affright. + +"Sir Arthur!" she began, her trembling tongue but half forming the +words. Her eyes stared in terror, and beneath her dark skin the blood +shrank away and left her pale. She recoiled from him, her left hand +carrying behind her instinctively the babe that lay on her arm. + +Sir Arthur bowed, but found no word. He could only look questioningly at +Law. + +"Madam," said the latter, "Sir Arthur Pembroke journeys through as the +messenger of Lord Bellomont, governor at Albany, to spread peace among +the Western tribes. He has by mere chance blundered upon our valley, and +will delay over night. It seemed well you should be advised." + +Mary Connynge, gray and pale, haggard and horrified, dreading all things +and knowing nothing, found no manner of reply. Without a word she turned +and fled back into the cabin. + +Sir Arthur once more looked about him. Motioning to the others of the +party to remain outside the gate, Law led him within the stockade. On +one hand stood Pierre Noir, tall, silent, impassive as a savage, leaning +upon his gun and fixing on the red coat of the English uniform an eye +none too friendly. Jean Breboeuf, his piece half ready and his voluble +tongue half on the point of breaking over restraint, Law quieted with a +gesture. Back of these, ranged in a silent yet watchful group, their +weapons well in hand, stood numbers of the savage allies of this new +war-lord. Pembroke turned to Law again. + +"You are strongly stationed, sir; but I do not understand." + +"It is my home." + +"But yet--why?" + +"As well this as any, where one leaves an old life and begins a new," +said Law. "'Tis as good a place as any if one would leave all behind, +and if he would forget." + +"And this--that is to say--madam?" + +Sir Arthur stumbled in his speech. John Law looked him straight in the +eye, a slow, sad smile upon his face. + +"Had we here the plank of poor La Salle his ship," said he, "we might +nail the message of that other renegade above our door--'_Nous sommes +tous sauvages_!'" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE DREAM + + +That night John Law dreamed as he slept, and it was in some form the +same haunting and familiar dream. In his vision he saw not the low roof +nor the rude walls about him. To his mind there appeared a little dingy +room, smaller than this in which he lay, with walls of stone, with door +of iron grating and not of rough-hewn slabs. He saw the door of the +prison cell swing open; saw near it the figure of a noble young girl, +with large and frightened eyes and lips half tremulous. To this vision +he outstretched his hands. He was almost conscious of uttering some word +supplicatingly, almost conscious of uttering a name. + +Perhaps he slept on. We little know the ways of the land of dreams. It +might have been half an instant or half an hour later that he suddenly +awoke, finding his hand clapped close against his side, where suddenly +there had come a sharp and burning pain. His own hand struck another. He +saw something gleaming in the light of the flickering fire which still +survived upon the hearth. The dim rays lit up two green, glowing, +venomous balls, the eyes of the woman whom he found bending above him. +He reached out his hand in the instinct of safety. This which glittered +in the firelight was the blade of a knife, and it was in the hand of +Mary Connynge! + +In a moment Law was master of himself. "Give it to me, Madam, if you +please," he said, quietly, and took the knife from fingers which +loosened under his grasp. There was no further word spoken. He tossed +the knife into a crack of the bunk beyond him. He lay with his right arm +doubled under his head, looking up steadily into the low ceiling, upon +which the fire made ragged masses of shadows. His left arm, round, full +and muscular, lay across the figure of the woman whom he had forced down +upon the couch beside him. He could feel her bosom rise and pant in +sheer sobs of anger. Once he felt the writhing of the body beneath his +arm, but he simply tightened his grasp and spoke no word. + +It was not far from morning. In time the gray dawn came creeping in at +the window, until at length the chinks between the logs in the little +square-cut window and the ill-fitting door were flooded with a sea of +sunlight. As this light grew stronger, Law slowly turned and looked at +the face beside him. Out of the tangle of dark hair there blazed still +two eyes, eyes which looked steadily up at the ceiling, refusing to turn +either to the right or to the left. He calmly pulled closer to him, so +that it might not stain the garments of the woman beside him, the +blood-soaked shirt whose looseness and lack of definition had perhaps +saved him from a fatal blow. He paid no attention to his wound, which he +knew was nothing serious. So he lay and looked at Mary Connynge, and +finally removed his arm. + +"Get up," said he, simply, and the woman obeyed him. + +"The fire, Madam, if you please, and breakfast." + +These had been the duties of the Indian woman, but Mary Connynge obeyed. + +"Madam," said Law, calmly, after the morning meal was at last finished +in silence, "I shall be very glad to have your company for a few +moments, if you please." + +Mary Connynge rose and followed him into the open air, her eyes still +fixed upon the dark-crusted stain which had spread upon his tunic. They +walked in silence to a point beyond the cabin. + +"You would call her Catharine!" burst out Mary Connynge. "Oh! I heard +you in your very sleep. You believe every lying word Sir Arthur tells +you. You believe--" + +John Law looked at her with the simple and direct gaze which the tamer +of the wild beast employs when he goes among them, the look of a man not +afraid of any living thing. + +"Madam," said he, at length, calmly and evenly, as before, "what I have +said, sleeping or waking, will not matter. You have tried to kill me. +You did not succeed. You will never try again. Now, Madam, I give you +the privilege of kneeling here on the ground before me, and asking of +me, not my pardon, but the pardon of the woman you have foully stabbed, +even as you have me." + +The figure before him straightened up, the blazing yellow eyes sought +his once, twice, thrice, behind them all the fury of a savage soul. It +was of no avail. The cool blue eyes looked straight into her heart. The +tall figure stood before her, unyielding. She sought to raise her eyes +once more, failed, and so would have sunk down as he had said, actually +on her knees before him. + +John Law extended a hand and stopped her. "There," said he. "It will +suffice. I can not demean you. There is the child." + +"You called her Catharine!" broke out the woman once more in her +ungovernable rage. "You would name my child--" + +"Madam, get up!" said John Law, sharply and sternly. "Get up on your +feet and look me in the face. The child shall be called for her who +should have been its mother. Let those forgive who can. That you have +ruined my life for me is but perhaps a fair exchange; yet you shall say +no word against that woman whose life we have both of us despoiled." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +BY THE HILT OF THE SWORD + + +Law passed on out at the gate of the stockade and down to the bivouac, +where Pembroke and his men had spent the night. + +"Now, Sir Arthur," said he to the latter, when he had found him, "come. +I am ready to talk with you. Let us go apart." + +Pembroke joined him, and the two walked slowly away toward the +encircling wood which swept back of the stockade. Law turned upon him at +length squarely. + +"Sir Arthur," said he, "I think you would tell me something concerned +with the Lady Catharine Knollys. Do you bring any message from her?" + +The face of Pembroke flamed scarlet with sudden wrath. "Message!" said +he. "Message from Lady Catharine Knollys to you? By God! sir, her only +message could be her hope that she might never hear your name again." + +"You have still your temper, Sir Arthur, and you speak harsh enough." + +"Harsh or not," rejoined Pembroke, "I scarce can endure her name upon +your lips. You, who scouted her, who left her, who took up with the +lewdest woman in all Great Britain, as it now appears--you who would +consort with this creature--" + +"In this matter," said John Law, simply, "you are not my prisoner, and I +beg you to speak frankly. It shall be man and man between us." + +"How you could have stooped to such baseness is what mortal man can +never understand," resumed Sir Arthur, bitterly. "Good God! to abandon a +woman like that so heartlessly--" + +"Sir Arthur," said John Law, his voice trembling, "I do myself the very +great pleasure of telling you that you lie!" + +For a moment the two stood silent, facing each other, the face of each +stony, gone gray with the emotions back of it. + +"There is light," said Pembroke, "and abundant space." + +They turned and paced back farther toward the open forest glade. Yet now +and again their steps faltered and half paused, and neither man cared to +go forward or to return. Pembroke's face, stern as it had been, again +took on the imprint of a growing hesitation. + +"Mr. Law," said he, "there is something in your attitude which I admit +puzzles me. I ask you in all honor, I ask you on the hilt of that sword +which I know you will never disgrace, why did you thus flout the Lady +Catharine Knollys? Why did you scorn her and take up with this woman +yonder in her stead?" + +"Sir Arthur," said John Law, with trembling lips, "I must be very low +indeed in reputation, since you can ask me question such as this." + +"But you must answer!" cried Sir Arthur, "and you must swear!" + +"If you would have my answer and my oath, then I give you both. I did +not do what you suggest, nor can I conceive how any man should think me +guilty of it. I loved Lady Catharine Knollys with all my heart. 'Twas my +chief bitterness, keener than even the thought of the gallows itself, +that she forsook me in my trouble. Then, bitter as any man would be, I +persuaded myself that I cared naught. Then came this other woman. Then +I--well, I was a man and a fool--a fool, Sir Arthur, a most miserable +fool! Every moment of my life since first I saw her, I have loved the +Lady Catharine; and, God help me, I do now!" + +Sir Arthur struck his hand upon the hilt of his sword. "You were more +lucky than myself, as I know," said he, and from his lips broke half a +groan. + +"Good God!" broke out Law. "Let us not talk of it. I give you my word of +honor, there has been no happiness to this. But come! We waste time. Let +us cross swords!" + +"Wait. Let me explain, since we are in the way of it. You must know that +'twas within the plans of Montague that Lady Catharine Knollys should be +the agent of your freedom. I was pledged to the Lady Catharine to assist +her, though, as you may perhaps see, sir," and Pembroke gulped in his +throat as he spoke, "'twas difficult enough, this part that was assigned +to me. It was I, Mr. Law, who drove the coach to the gate, the coach +which brought the Lady Catharine. 'Twas she who opened the door of +Newgate jail for you. My God! sir, how could you walk past that woman, +coming there as she did, with such a purpose!" + +At hearing these words, the tall figure of the man opposed to him +drooped and sank, as though under some fearful blow. He staggered to a +near-by support and sank weakly to a seat, his head falling between his +hands, his whole face convulsed. + +"Ah!" said he, "you did right to cross seas in search of me! God hath +indeed found me out and given me my punishment. Yet I ask God to bear +me witness that I knew not the truth. Come, Sir Arthur! Come, I beseech +you! Let us fall to!" + +"I shall be no man's executioner for his sentence on himself. I could +not fight you now." His eye fell by chance upon the blotch in Law's +bloodstained tunic. "And here," he said; "see! You are already wounded." + +"'Twas but one woman's way of showing her regard," said Law. "'Twas Mary +Connynge stabbed me." + +"But why?" + +"Nay, I am glad of it; since it proves the truth of all you say, even as +it proves me to be the most unworthy man in all the world. Oh, what had +it meant to me to know a real love! God! How could I have been so +blind?" + +"'Tis the ancient puzzle." + +"Yes!" cried Law. "And let us make an end of puzzles! Your quarrel, sir, +I admit is just. Let us go on." + +"And again I tell you, Mr. Law," replied Sir Arthur, "that I will not +fight you." + +"Then, sir," said Law, dropping his own sword upon the grass and +extending his hand with a broken smile, "'tis I who am your prisoner!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE IROQUOIS + + +Even as Sir Arthur and John Law clasped hands, there came a sudden +interruption. A half-score yards deeper in the wood there arose a +sudden, half-choked cry, followed by a shrill whoop. There was a +crashing as of one running, and immediately there pressed into the open +space the figure of an Indian, an old man from the village of the +Illini. Even as his staggering footsteps brought him within gaze, the +two startled observers saw the shaft which had sunk deep within his +breast. He had been shot through by an Indian arrow, and upon the +instant it was all too plain whose hand had sped the shaft. Following +close upon his heels there came a stalwart savage, whose face, hideously +painted, appeared fairly demoniacal as he came bounding on with uplifted +hatchet, seeking to strike down the victim already impaled by the silent +arrow. + +"Quick!" cried Law, in a flash catching the meaning of this sudden +spectacle. "Into the fort, Sir Arthur, and call the men together!" + +Not stopping to relieve the struggles of the victim, who had now fallen +forward gasping, Law sprang on with drawn blade to meet the advancing +savage. The latter paused for an uncertain moment, and then with a +shrill yell of defiance, hurled the keen steel hatchet full at Law's +head. It shore away a piece of his hat brim, and sank with edge deep +buried in the trunk of a tree beyond. The savage turned, but turned too +late. The blade of the swordsman passed through from rib to rib under +his arm, and he fell choking, even as he sought again to give vent to +his war-cry. + +And now there arose in the woods beyond, and in the fields below the +hill, and from the villages of the neighboring Indians, a series of +sharp, ululating yells. Shots came from within the fortress, where the +loop-holes were already manned. There were borne from the nearest +wigwams of the Illini the screams of wounded men, the shrieks of +terrified women. In an instant the peaceful spot had become the scene of +a horrible confusion. Once more the wolves of the woods, the Iroquois, +had fallen on their prey! + +Swift as had been Law's movements, Pembroke was but a pace behind him as +he wrenched free his blade. The two turned back together and started at +speed for the palisade. At the gate they met others hurrying in, +Pembroke's men joining in the rush of the frightened villagers. Among +these the Iroquois pressed with shrill yells, plying knife and bow and +hatchet as they ran, and the horrified eyes of those within the palisade +saw many a tragedy enacted. + +"Watch the gate!" cried Pierre Noir, from his station in the corner +tower. As he spoke there came a rush of screaming Iroquois, who sought +to gain the entrance. + +"Now!" cried Pierre Noir, discharging his piece into the crowded ranks +below him; and shot after shot followed his own. The packed brown mass +gave back and resolved itself into scattered units, who broke and ran +for the nearest cover. + +"They will not come on again until dark," said Pierre Noir, calmly +leaning his piece against the wall. "Therefore I may attend to certain +little matters." + +He passed out into the entry-way, where lay the bodies of three +Iroquois, abandoned, under the close and deadly fire, by their +companions where they had fallen. When Pierre Noir returned and calmly +propped up again the door of slabs which he had removed, he carried in +his hand three tufts of long black hair, from which dripped heavy gouts +of blood. + +"Good God, man!" said Pembroke. "You must not be savage as these +Indians!" + +"Speak for yourself, Monsieur Anglais," replied Pierre, stoutly. "You +need not save these head pieces if you do not care for them. For myself, +'tis part of the trade." + +"Assuredly," broke in Jean Breboeuf. "We keep these trinkets, we +_voyageurs_ of the French. Make no doubt that Jean Breboeuf will take +back with him full tale of the Indians he has killed. Presently I go +out. Zip! goes my knife, and off comes the topknot of Monsieur Indian, +him I killed but now as he ran. Then I shall dry the scalp here by the +fire, and mount it on a bit of willow, and take it back for a present to +my sweetheart, Susanne Duchéne, on the seignieury at home." + +"Bravo, Jean!" cried out the old Indian fighter, Pierre Noir, the old +baresark rage of the fighting man now rising hot in his blood. "And +look! Here come more chances for our little ornaments." + +Pierre Noir for once had been mistaken and underestimated the courage of +the warriors of the Onondagos. Lashing themselves to fury at the thought +of their losses, they came on again, now banding and charging in the +open close up to the walls of the palisade. Again the little party of +whites maintained a steady fire, and again the Iroquois, baffled and +enraged, fell back into the wood, whence they poured volley after volley +rattling against the walls of the sturdy fortress. + +"I am sorry, sir," said Sergeant Gray to Pembroke, "but 'tis all up with +me." The poor fellow staggered against the wall, and in a few moments +all was indeed over with him. A chance shot had pierced his chest. + +"_Peste_! If this keeps up," said Pierre Noir, "there will not be many +of us left by morning. I never saw them fight so well. 'Tis a good watch +we'll need this night." + +In fact, all through the night the Iroquois tried every stratagem of +their savage warfare. With ear-splitting yells they came close up to the +stockade, and in one such charge two or three of their young men even +managed to climb to the tops of the pointed stakes, though but to meet +their death at the muzzles of the muskets within. Then there arose +curving lines of fire from without the walls, half circles which +terminated at last in little jarring thuds, where blazing arrows fell +and stood in log, or earth, or unprotected roof. These projectiles, +wrapped with lighted birch bark, served as fire brands, and danger +enough they carried. Yet, after some fashion, the little garrison kept +down these incipient blazes, held together the terrified Illini, +repulsed each repeated charge of the Iroquois, and so at last wore +through the long and fearful night. + +The sun was just rising across the tops of the distant groves when the +Iroquois made their next advance. It came not in the form of a concerted +attack, but of an appeal for peace. A party of the savages left their +cover and approached the fortress, waving their hands above their heads. +One of them presently advanced alone. + +"What is it, Pierre?" asked Law. "What does the fellow want?" + +"I care not what he wants," said Pierre Noir, carefully adjusting the +lock of his piece and steadily regarding the savage as he approached; +"but I'll wager you a year's pay he never gets alive past yonder stump." + +"Stay!" cried Pembroke, catching at the barrel of the leveled gun. "I +believe he would talk with us." + +"What does he say, Pierre?" asked Law. "Speak to him, if you can." + +"He wants to know," said Pierre, as the messenger at length stopped and +began a harangue, "whether we are English or French. He says something +about there being a big peace between Corlaer and Onontio; by which he +means, gentlemen, the governor at New York and the governor at Quebec." + +"Tell him," cried Pembroke, with a sudden thought, "that I am an +officer of Corlaer, and that Corlaer bids the Iroquois to bring in all +the prisoners they have taken. Tell him that the French are going to +give up all their prisoners to us, and that the Iroquois must leave the +war path, or my Lord Bellomont will take the war trail and wipe their +villages off the earth." + +Something in this speech as conveyed to the savage seemed to give him a +certain concern. He retired, and presently his place was taken by a tall +and stately figure, dressed in the full habiliments of an Iroquois +chieftain. He came on calmly and proudly, his head erect, and in his +extended hand the long-stemmed pipe of peace. Pierre Noir heaved a deep +sigh of relief. + +"Unless my eyes deceive me," said he, "'tis old Teganisoris himself, one +of the head men of the Onondagos. If so, there is some hope, for +Teganisoris is wise enough to know when peace is best." + +It was, indeed, that noted chieftain of the Iroquois who now advanced +close up to the wall. Law and Pembroke stepped out to meet him beyond +the palisade, the old _voyageur_ still serving as interpreter from the +platform at their back. + +"He says--listen, Messieurs!--he says he knows there is going to be a +big peace; that the Iroquois are tired of fighting and that their +hearts are sore. He says--a most manifest lie, I beg you to observe, +Messieurs--that he loves the English, and that, although he ought to +kill the Frenchmen of our garrison, he will, since some of us are +English, and hence his friends, spare us all if we will cease to fight." + +Pembroke turned to Law with question in his eye. + +"There must be something done," said the latter in a low tone. "We were +short enough of ammunition here even before Du Mesne left for the +settlements, and your own men have none too much left." + +"'Reflect! Bethink yourselves, Englishmen!' he says to us," continued +Pierre Noir. "'We came to make war upon the Illini. Our work here is +done. 'Tis time now that we went back to our villages. If there is to be +a big peace, the Iroquois must be there; for unless the Iroquois demand +it, there can be no peace at all.' And, gentlemen, I beg you to remember +it is an Iroquois who is talking, and that the truth is not in the +tongue of an Iroquois." + +"'Tis a desperate chance, Mr. Law," said Pembroke. "Yet if we keep up +the fight here, there can be but one end." + +"'Tis true," said Law; "and there are others to be considered." + +It was hurriedly thus concluded. Law finally advanced toward the tall +figure of the Iroquois headman, and looked him straight in the face. + +"Tell him," said he to Pierre Noir, "that we are all English, and that +we are not afraid; and that if we are harmed, the armies of Corlaer will +destroy the Iroquois, even as the Iroquois have the Illini. Tell him +that we will go back with him to the settlements because we are willing +to go that way upon a journey which we had already planned. We could +fight forever if we chose, and he can see for himself by the bodies of +his young men how well we are able to make war." + +"It is well," replied Teganisoris. "You have the word of an Iroquois +that this shall be done, as I have said." + +"The word of an Iroquois!" cried Pierre Noir, slamming down the butt of +his musket. "The word of a snake, say rather! Jean Breboeuf, harken you +to what our leaders have agreed! We are to go as prisoners of the +Iroquois! Mary, Mother of God, what folly! And there is madame, and _la +pauvre petite_, that infant so young. By God! Were it left to me, Pierre +Berthier would stand here, and fight to the end. I know these Iroquois!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +PRISONERS OF THE IROQUOIS + + +The faith of the Iroquois was worse than Punic, nor was there lacking +swift proof of its real nature. Law and Pembroke, the moment they had +led their little garrison beyond the gate, found themselves surrounded +by a ring of tomahawks and drawn bows. Their weapons were snatched away +from them, and on the instant they found themselves beyond all +possibility of that resistance whose giving over they now bitterly +repented. Teganisoris regarded them with a sardonic smile. + +"I see you are all English," said he, "though some of you wear blue +coats. These we may perhaps adopt into our tribe, for our boys grow up +but slowly, and some of the blue coats are good fighters. These dogs of +Illini we shall of course burn. As for your war house, you will no +longer need it, since you are now friends of the Iroquois, and are going +to their villages. You may say to Corlaer that you well know the +Iroquois have no prisoners." + +The horrid significance of this threat was all too soon made plain. In +an hour the little stockade was but a mass of embers and ashes. In +another hour the little valley had become a Gehenna of anguish and +lamentations, with whose riot of grief and woe there mingled the savage +exultations of a foe whose treachery was but surpassed by his cruelty. +Again the planting-ground of the Illini was utterly laid waste, to mark +it naught remaining but trampled grain, and heaps of ashes, and remnants +of blackened and incinerated bones. By nightfall the party of prisoners +had begun a wild journey through the wilderness, whose horrors surpassed +any they had supposed to be humanly endurable. + +Day after day, week after week, for more than a month, and much of the +time in winter weather, they toiled on, part of the way by boat, the +remainder of the journey on foot, crossing snow-clogged forest, and +tangled thicket and frozen morass, yet daring not to drop out for rest, +since to lag might mean to die. It was as though after some frightful +nightmare of suffering and despair that at length they reached the +villages of the Five Nations, located far to the east, at the foot of +the great waterway which Law and his family had ascended more than a +year before. + +Yet if that which had gone before seemed like some bitter dream, surely +the day of awakening promised but little better hope. From village to +village, footsore and ill, they were hurried without rest, at each new +stopping place the central figures of a barbarous triumph; and nowhere +did they meet the representatives of either the French or the English +government, whose expected presence had constituted their one ground of +hope. + +"Where is your big peace?" asked Teganisoris of Pembroke. "Where are the +head men of Corlaer? Who brings presents to the Iroquois, and who is to +tell us that Onontio has carried the pipe of peace to Corlaer? Here are +our villages as when we left them, and here again are we, save for the +absent ones who have been killed by your young men. It is no wonder that +my people are displeased." + +Indeed those of the Iroquois who had remained at home clamored +continually that some of the prisoners should be given over to them. +Thus, in doubt, uncertainty and terror the party passed through the +villages, moving always eastward, until at length they arrived at the +fortified town where Teganisoris made his home, a spot toward the foot +of Lake Ontario, and not widely removed from that stupendous cataract +which, from the beginning of earth, had uplifted its thunderous +diapason here in the savage wilderness--Ontoneagrea, object of +superstitious awe among all the tribes. + +Time hung heavy on the hands of the savages. It was winter, and the +parties had all returned from the war trails. The mutterings arose yet +more loudly among families who had lost most heavily in these Western +expeditions. The shrewd mind of Teganisoris knew that some new thing +must be planned. He announced his decision at his own village, after the +triumphal progress among the tribes had at length been concluded. + +"Since they have sent us no presents," said he, with that daring +diplomacy which made him a leader in red statesmanship, "let those who +stayed at home be given some prisoner in pay for those of their people +who have been killed. Moreover, let us offer to the Great Spirit some +sacrifice in propitiation; since surely the Great Spirit is offended." +Such was the conclusion of this head man of the Onondagos, and fateful +enough it was to the prisoners. + +The great gorge through which poured the vast waters of the Northern +seas was a spot not always visited by those passing up the Great Lakes +for the Western stations, nor down the Lakes to the settlements of the +St. Lawrence. Yet there was a trail which led around the great cataract, +and the occasional _coureurs de bois_, or the passing friars, or the +adventurous merchants of the lower settlements now and again left that +trail, and came to look upon the tremendous scene of the great falling +of the waters. Here where the tumult ascended up to heaven, and where +the white-blown wreaths of mist might indeed, even in an imagination +better than that of a savage, have been construed into actual forms of +spirits, the Indians had, from time immemorial, made their offerings to +the genius of the cataract--strips of rude cloth, the skin of the beaver +and the otter, baskets woven of sweet grasses, and, after the advent of +the white man, pieces of metal or strings of precious beads. Such valued +things as these were in rude adoration placed upon rocks or uplifted +scaffolds near to the brink of the abyss. This was the spot most +commonly chosen by the medicine man in the pursuit of his incantations. +It was the church, the wild and savage cathedral of the red men. + +Following now the command of their chieftain, the Iroquois left their +stationary lodges and moved in a body, pitching a temporary camp at a +spot not far from the Falls. Here, in a great council lodge, the older +men sat in deliberation for a full day and night. The dull drum sounded +continually, the council pipe went round, and the warriors besought the +spirits to give them knowledge. The savage hysteria, little by little, +yet steadily, arose higher and higher, until at length it reached that +point of frenzy where naught could suffice save some terrible, some +tremendous thing. + +Enforced spectators of these curious and ominous ceremonies, the +prisoners looked on, wondering, imagining, hesitating and fearing. +"Monsieur," said Pierre Noir, turning at last to Law, "it grieves me to +speak, yet 'tis best for you to know the truth. It is to be you or +Monsieur Pembroke. They will not have me. They say that it must be one +of you two great chiefs, for that you were brave, your hearts were +strong, and that hence you would find favor as the adopted child of the +Great Spirit who has been offended." + +Law looked at Pembroke, and they both regarded Mary Connynge and the +babe. "At least," said Law, "they spare the woman and the child. So far +very well. Sir Arthur, we are at the last hazard." + +"I have asked them to take me," said Pierre Noir, "for I am an old man +and have no family. But they will not listen to me." + +Pembroke passed his hand wearily across his face. "I have behind me so +long a memory of suffering," said he, "and before me so small an amount +of promise, that for myself I am content to let it end. It comes to all +sooner or later, according to our fate." + +"You speak," said Law, "as though it were determined. Yet Pierre says it +will not be both of us, but one." + +Pembroke smiled sadly. "Why, sir," said he, "do you think me so sorry a +fellow as that? Look!" and he pointed to Mary Connynge and the child. +"There is your duty." + +Law followed his gaze, and his look was returned dumbly by the woman who +had played so strange a part in the late passages of his life. Never a +word with her had Law spoken regarding his plans or concerning what he +had learned from Pembroke. As to this, Mary Connynge had been afraid to +ask, nor dare ask even now. + +"Besides," went on Pembroke later, as he called Law aside, "there is +something to be done--not here, but over there, in England, or in +France. Your duty is involved not only with this woman. You must find +sometime the other woman. You must see the Lady Catharine Knollys." + +Law sunk his head between his hands and groaned bitterly. + +"Go you rather," said he, "and spend your life for her. I choose that it +should end at once, and here." + +"I have not been wont to call Mr. Law a coward," said Pembroke, simply. + +"I should be a coward if I should stand aside and allow you to sacrifice +yourself; nor shall I do so," replied the other. + +"They say," broke in Pierre Noir, who had been listening to the excited +harangues of first one warrior and then another, "that both warriors are +great chiefs, and that both should go together. Teganisoris insists that +only one shall be offered. This last has been almost agreed; but which +one of you 'tis to be has not yet been determined." + +Dawn came through the narrow door and open roof holes of the lodge. The +rising of the sun seemed to bring conviction to the Iroquois. All at +once the savage council broke up and scattered into groups, which +hurried to different parts of the village. Presently these reappeared at +the central lodge. There sounded a concerted savage chant. A ragged +column appeared, whose head was faced toward the cataract. There were +those who bore strings of beads and strips of fur, even the prized +treasures of the tufted scalp locks, whose tresses, combed smooth, were +adorned with colored cloth and feathers. + +Pierre Noir was silent; yet, as the captives looked, they needed no +advice that the sacrificial procession was now forming. + +"They said," began Pierre Noir, at length, with trembling voice, turning +his eyes aside as he spoke, "that it could not be myself, that it must +be one of you, and but one. They are going to cast lots for it. It is +Teganisoris who has proposed that the lots shall be thrown by--" Pierre +Noir faltered, unwilling to go on. + +"And by whom?" asked Law, quietly. + +"By--by the woman--by madame!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE SACRIFICE + + +There was sometimes practised among the Iroquois a game which bore a +certain resemblance to the casting of dice, as the latter is known among +civilized peoples. The method of the play was simple. Two oblong +polished bones, of the bigness of a man's finger, were used as the dice. +The ends of these were ground thin and were rudely polished. One of the +dice was stained red, the other left white. The players in the game +marked out a line on the hard ground, and then each in turn cast up the +two dice into the air, throwing them from some receptacle. The game was +determined by the falling of the red bone, he who cast this colored bone +closer to the line upon the ground being declared the winner. The game +was simple, and depended much upon chance. If the red die fell flat upon +its face at a point near to the line, it was apt to lie close to the +spot where it dropped. On the other hand, did it alight upon either end, +it might bound back and fall at some little distance upon one side of +the line. + +It was this game which, in horrible fashion, Teganisoris now proposed to +play. He offered to the clamoring medicine man and his ferocious +disciples one of these captives, whose death should appease not only the +offended Great Spirit, but also the unsated vengeance of the tribe. He +offered, at the same time, the spectacle of a play in which a human life +should be the stake. He used as practical executioner the woman who was +possessed by one of them, and who, in the crude notions of the savages, +was no doubt coveted by both. It must be the hand of this woman that +should cast the dice, a white one and a red one for each man, and he +whose red die fell closer to the line was winner in the grim game of +life and death. + +Jean Breboeuf and Pierre Noir stood apart, and tears poured from the +eyes of both. They were hardened men, well acquainted with Indian +warfare; they had seen the writhings of tortured victims, and more than +once had faced such possibilities themselves; yet never had they seen +sight like this. + +Near the two men stood Mary Connynge, the bright blood burning in her +cheeks, her eyes dry and wide open, looking from one to the other. God, +who gives to this earth the few Mary Connynges, alone knows the nature +of those elements which made her, and the character of the conflict +which now went on within her soul. Tell such a woman as Mary Connynge +that she has a rival, and she will either love the more madly the man +whom she demands as her own, or with equal madness and with greater +intensity will hate her lover with a hatred undying and unappeasable. + +Mary Connynge stood, her eyes glancing from one to the other of the men +before her. She had seen them both proved brave men, strong of arm, +undaunted of heart, both gallant gentlemen. God, who makes the Mary +Connynges of this earth, only can tell whether or not there arose in the +heart of this savage woman, this woman at bay, scorned, rebuked, +mastered, this one question: Which? If Mary Connynge hated John Law, or +if she loved him--ah! how must have pulsed her heart in agony, or in +bitterness, as she took into her hand those lots which were the arbiters +of life and death! + +Teganisoris looked about him and spoke a few rapid words. He caught Mary +Connynge roughly by the shoulder and pulled her forward. The two men +stood with faces set and gray in the pitiless light of morn. Their arms +were fast bound behind their backs. Eagerly the crowding savages +pressed up to them, gesticulating wildly, and peering again and again +into their faces to discover any sign of weakness. They failed. The +pride of birth, the strength of character, the sheer animal vigor of +each man stood him in stead at this ultimate trial. Each had made up his +mind to die. Each proposed, not doubting that he would be the one to +draw the fatal lot, to die as a man and a gentleman. + +Teganisoris would play this game with all possible mystery and +importance. It should be told generations hence about the council fires, +how he, Teganisoris, devised this game, how he played it, how he drew it +out link by link to the last atom of its agony. There was no receptacle +at hand in which the dice could be placed. Teganisoris stooped, and +without ceremony wrenched from Mary Connynge's foot the moccasin which +covered it--the little shoe--beaded, beautiful, and now again fateful. +Sir Arthur smiled as though in actual joy. + +"My friend," said he, "I have won! This might be the very slipper for +which we played at the Green Lion long ago." + +Law turned upon him a face pale and solemn. "Sir," said he, "I pray God +that the issue may not be as when we last played. I pray God that the +dice may elect me and not yourself." + +"You were ever lucky in the games of chance," replied Pembroke. + +"Too lucky," said Law. "But the winner here is the loser, if it be +myself." + +Teganisoris roughly took from Mary Connynge's hand the little bits of +bone. He cast them into the hollow of the moccasin and shook them +dramatically together, holding them high above his head. Then he lowered +them and took out from the receptacle two of the dice. He placed his +hand on Law's shoulder, signifying that his was to be the first cast. +Then he handed back the moccasin to the woman. + +Mary Connynge took the shoe in her hand and stepped forward to the line +which had been drawn upon the ground. The red spots still burned upon +her cheeks; her eyes, amber, feline, still flamed hard and dry. She +still glanced rapidly from one to the other, her eye as lightly quick +and as brilliant as that of the crouched cat about to spring. + +Which? Which would it be? Could she control this game? Could she elect +which man should live and which should die--this woman, scorned, abased, +mastered? Neither of these sought to read the riddle of her set face and +blazing eyes. Each as he might offered his soul to his Creator. + +The hand of Mary Connynge was raised above her head. Her face was +turned once more to John Law, her master, her commander, her repudiator. +Slowly she turned the moccasin over in her hand. The white bone fell +first, the red for a moment hanging in the soft folds of the buckskin. +She shook it out. It fell with its face nearly parallel to the ground +and alighted not more than a foot from the line, rebounding scarce more +than an inch or so. Low exclamations arose from all around the thickened +circle. + +"As I said, my friend," cried Sir Arthur, "I have won! The throw is +passing close for you." + +Teganisoris again caught Mary Connynge by the shoulder, and dragged her +a step or so farther along the line, the two dice being left on the +ground as they had fallen. Once more, her hand arose, once more it +turned, once more the dice were cast. + +The goddess of fortune still stood faithful to this bold young man who +had so often confidently assumed her friendship. His life, later to be +so intimately concerned with this same new savage country, was to be +preserved for an ultimate opportunity. + +The white and the red bone fell together from the moccasin. Had it been +the white that counted, Sir Arthur had been saved, for the white bone +lay actually upon the line. The red fell almost as close, but alighted +on its end. As though impelled by some spirit of evil, it dropped upon +some little pebble or hard bit of earth, bounded into the air, fell, and +rolled quite away from the mark! + +Even on that crowd of cruel savages there came a silence. Of the whites, +one scarce dared look at the other. Slowly the faces of Pembroke and Law +turned one toward the other. + +"Would God I could shake you by the hand," said Pembroke. "Good by." + +"As for you, dogs and worse than dogs," he cried, turning toward the red +faces about him, "mark you! where I stand the feet of the white man +shall stand forever, and crush your faces into the dirt!" + +Whether or not the Iroquois understood his defiance could not be +determined. With a wild shout they pressed upon him. Borne struggling +and stumbling by the impulse of a dozen hands, Pembroke half walked and +half was carried over the distance between the village and the brink of +the chasm of Niagara. + +Until then it had not been apparent what was to be the nature of his +fate, but when he looked upon the sliding floor of waters below him, and +heard beyond the thunderous voices of the cataract, Pembroke knew what +was to be his final portion. + +There was, at some distance above the great falls, a spot where descent +was possible to the edge of the water. Pembroke's feet were loosened and +he was compelled to descend the narrow path. A canoe was tethered at the +shore, and the face of the young Englishman went pale as he realized +what was to be the use assigned it. Bound again hand and foot, helpless, +he was cast into this canoe. A strong arm sent the tiny craft out toward +midstream. + +The hands of the great waters grasped the frail cockleshell, twisted it +about, tossed it, played with it, and claimed it irrevocably for their +own. For a few moments it was visible as it passed on down with the +resistless current of the mighty stream. Almost at the verge of the +plunge, the eyes watching from the shore saw at a distance the struggle +made by the victim. He half raised himself in the boat and threw himself +against its side. It was overset. For one instant the cold sun shone +glistening on the wet bark of the upturned craft. It was but a moment, +and then there was no dot upon the solemn flood. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE EMBASSY + + +"Monsieur! Madame! Pierre Noir! Listen to me! I have saved you! I, Jean +Breboeuf, I have rescued you!" + +So spoke Jean Breboeuf, thrusting his head within the door of the lodge +in which were the remaining prisoners of the Iroquois. + +It was indeed Jean Breboeuf who, strolling beyond the outer edge of the +village, had been among the first to espy an approaching party of +visitors. Of any travelers possible, none could have been more important +to the prisoners. Too late, yet welcome even now, the embassy from New +France among the Iroquois had arrived. In an instant the village was in +an uproar. + +The leader of this embassy from Quebec was one Captain Joncaire, at that +time of the French settlements, but in former years a prisoner among the +Onondagos, where he was adopted into the tribe and much respected. +Joncaire was accompanied by a priest of the Jesuit brotherhood, by a +young officer late of the regiment Carignan, and by two or three petty +Canadian officials, as well as a struggling retinue of savages picked up +on the way between Lake George and the Indian villages. He advanced now +at the head of his little party, bearing in his hand a wampum belt. He +pushed aside the young men, and demanded that he be brought to the chief +of the village. Teganisoris himself presently advanced to meet him, and +of him Joncaire demanded that there should at once be called a full +council of the tribe; with which request the chief of the Onondagos +hastened to comply. + +Fully accustomed to such ceremonies, Joncaire sat in the council calmly +listening to the speeches of its orators, and at length arose for his +own reply. "Brothers," said he, "I have here"--and he drew from his +tunic a copy of the decree of Louis XIV declaring peace between the +French and the English colonies--"a talking paper. This is the will of +Onontio, whom you love and fear, and it is the will of the great father +across the water, whom Onontio loves and fears. This talking paper says +that our young men of the French colonies are no longer to go to war +against Corlaer. The hatchet has been buried by the two great fathers. +Brothers, I have come to tell you that it is time for the Iroquois also +to bury the hatchet, and to place upon it heavy stones, so that it +never again can be dug up. + +"Brothers, as you know, the great canoes from across the sea are +bringing more and more white men. Look about you, and tell me where are +your fathers and your brothers and your sons? Half your fighting men are +gone; and if you turn to the West to seek out strong young men from the +other tribes, which of them will come to sit by your fires and be your +brothers? The war trails of the Nations have gone to the West as far as +the Great River. All the country has been at war. The friends of Onontio +beyond Michilimackinac have been so busy fighting that they have +forgotten to take the beaver, or if they have taken it, they have been +afraid to bring it down the water trail to us, lest the Iroquois or the +English should rob them. + +"Brothers, a great peace is now declared. Onontio, the father of all the +red men, has taken the promises of his children, the Hurons, the +Algonquins, the Miamis, the Illini, the Outagamies, the Ojibways, all +those peoples who live to the west, that they will follow the war trail +no more. Next summer there will be a great council. Onontio and Corlaer +have agreed to call the tribes to meet at the Mountain in the St. +Lawrence. Onontio says to you that he will give you back your prisoners, +and now he demands that you in return give back those whom you may have +with you. This is his will; and if you fail him, you know how heavy is +his hand. + +"Brothers, I see that you have prisoners here, white prisoners. These +must be given up to us. I will take them with me when I return. For your +Indian captives, it is the will of Onontio that you bring them all to +the Great Peace in the summer, and that you then, all of you, help to +dig the great hill under which the hatchet is going to be buried. Then +once more our rivers will not be red, and will look more like water. The +sun will not shine red, but will look as the sun should look. The sky +will again be blue. Our women and our children will no longer be afraid, +and you Iroquois can go to sleep in your houses and not dread the arms +of the French. Brothers, I have spoken. Peace is good." + +Teganisoris replied in the same strain as that chosen by Joncaire, +assuring him that he was his brother; that his heart went out to him; +that the Iroquois loved the French; and that if they had gone to war +with them, it was but because the young men of Corlaer had closed their +eyes so that they could not see the truth. "As to these prisoners," said +he, "take them with you. We do not want them with us, for we fear they +may bring us harm. Our medicine man counseled us to offer up one of +these prisoners as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit. We did so. Now our +medicine man has a bad dream. He says that the white men are going to +come and tear down our houses and trample our fields. When the time +comes for the peace, the Iroquois will be at the Mountain. Brother, we +will bury the hatchet, and bury it so deep that henceforth none may ever +again dig it up." + +"It is well," said Joncaire, abruptly. "My brothers are wise. Now let +the council end, for my path is long and I must travel back to Onontio +at once." + +Joncaire knew well enough the fickle nature of these savages, who might +upon the morrow demand another council and perhaps arrive at different +conclusions. Hearing there were no white prisoners in the villages +farther to the west, he resolved to set forth at once upon the return +with those now at hand. Hurrying, therefore, as soon as might be, to +their leader, he urged him to make ready forthwith for the journey back +to the St. Lawrence. + +"Unless I much mistake, Monsieur," said he to Law, "you are that same +gentleman who so set all Quebec by the ears last winter. My faith! The +regiment Carignan had cause to rejoice when you left for up river, even +though you took with you half the ready coin of the settlement. Yet come +you once more to meet the gentlemen of France, and I doubt not they +will be glad as ever to stake you high, as may be in this +poverty-stricken region. You have been far to the westward, I doubt not. +You were, perhaps, made prisoner somewhere below the Straits." + +"Far below; among the tribe of the Illini, in the valley of the +Messasebe." + +"You tell me so! I had thought no white man left in that valley for this +season. And madame--this child--surely 'twas the first white infant born +in the great valley." + +"And the most unfortunate." + +"Nay, how can you say that, since you have come more than half a +thousand miles and are all safe and sound to-day? Glad enough we shall +be to have you and madame with us for the winter, if, indeed, it be not +for longer dwelling. I can not take you now to the English settlements, +since I must back to the governor with the news. Yet dull enough you +would find these Dutch of the Hudson, and worse yet the blue-nosed +psalmodists of New England. Much better for you and your good lady are +the gayer capitals of New France, or _la belle France_ itself, that +older France. Monsieur, how infinitely more fit for a gentleman of +spirit is France than your dull England and its Dutch king! Either New +France or Old France, let me advise you; and as to that new West, let +me counsel that you wait until after the Big Peace. And, in speaking, +your friend, Du Mesne, your lieutenant, the _coureur_--his fate, I +suppose, one need not ask. He was killed--where?" + +Law recounted the division of his party just previous to the Iroquois +attack, and added his concern lest Du Mesne should return to the former +station during the spring and find but its ruins, with no news of the +fate of his friends. + +"Oh, as to that--'twould be but the old story of the _voyageurs_," said +Joncaire. "They are used enough to journeying a thousand miles or so, to +find the trail end in a heap of ashes, and to the tune of a scalp dance. +Fear not for your lieutenant, for, believe me, he has fended for himself +if there has been need. Yet I would warrant you, now that this word for +the peace has gone out, we shall see your friend Du Mesne as big as life +at the Mountain next summer, knowing as much of your history as you +yourself do, and quite counting upon meeting you with us on the St. +Lawrence, and madame as well. As to that, methinks madame will be better +with us on the St. Lawrence than on the savage Messasebe. We have none +too many dames among us, and I need not state, what monsieur's eyes have +told him every morning--that a fairer never set foot from ship from +over seas. Witness my lieutenant yonder, Raoul de Ligny! He is thus soon +all devotion! Mother of God! but we are well met here, in this +wilderness, among the savages. _Voilà_, Monsieur! We take you again +captive, and 'tis madame enslaves us all!" + +There had indeed ensued conversation between the young French officer +above named and Mary Connynge; yet prompt as might have been the former +with gallant attentions to so fair a captive, it could not have been +said that he was allowed the first advances. Mary Connynge, even after a +month of starving foot travel and another month of anxiety at the +Iroquois villages, had lost neither her rounded body, her brilliance of +eye and color, nor her subtle magnetism of personality. It had taken +stronger head than that of Raoul de Ligny to withstand even her slight +request. How, then, as to Mary Connynge supplicating, entreating, +craving of him protection? + +"Ah, you brave Frenchmen," said she to De Ligny, advancing to him as he +stood apart, twisting his mustaches and not unmindful of this very +possibility of a conversation with the captive. "You brave Frenchmen, +how can we thank you for our salvation? It was all so horrible!" + +"It is our duty to save all, Madame," rejoined De Ligny; "our happiness +unspeakable to save such as Madame. I swear by my sword, I had as soon +expected to find an angel with the Iroquois as to meet there Madame! +Quebec--all Quebec has told me who Madame was and is. And I am your +slave." + +"Oh, sir, could you but mean that!" and there was turned upon him the +full power of a gaze which few men had ever been able to withstand. The +blood of De Ligny tingled as he bowed and replied. + +"If Madame could but demand one proof." + +Mary Connynge stepped closer to him. "Hush!" she said. "Speak low! Do +not let it seem that we are interested. Keep your own counsel. Can you +do this?" + +The eyes of the young officer gleamed. He was bold enough to respond. +This his temptress noted. + +He nodded. + +"You see that man--the tall one, John Law? Listen! It is from him I ask +you to save me. Oh, sir, there is my captivity!" + +"What! Your husband?" + +"He is not my husband." + +"_Mais_--a thousand pardons. The child--your pardon." + +"Pish! 'Tis the child of an Indian woman." + +"Oh!" The blood again came to the young gallant's forehead. + +"Listen, I tell you! I have been scarce better than a prisoner in this +man's hands. He has abused me, threatened me, would have beaten me--" + +"Madame--Mademoiselle!" + +"'Tis true. We have been far in the West, and I could not escape. Good +Providence has now brought my rescue--and you, Monsieur! Oh! tell me +that it has brought me safety, and also a friend--that it has brought me +you!" + +With every pulse a-tingle, every vein afire, what could the young +gallant do? What but yield, but promise, but swear, but rage? + +"Hush!" said Mary Connynge, her own eyes gleaming. "Wait! The time will +come. So soon as we reach the settlements, I leave him, and forever! +Then--" Their hands met swiftly. "He has abandoned me," murmured Mary +Connynge. "He has not spoken to me for weeks, other than words of 'Yes,' +or 'No,' 'Do this,' or 'Do that!' Wait! Wait! How soon shall we be at +Montréal?" + +"Less than a month. 'Twill seem an age, I swear!" + +"Madam," interrupted Law, "pardon, but Monsieur Joncaire bids us be +ready. Come, help me arrange the packs for our journey. Perhaps +Lieutenant de Ligny--for so I think they name you, sir--will pardon us, +and will consent to resume his conversation later." + +"Assuredly," said De Ligny. "I shall wait, Monsieur." + +"So, Madam," said Law to Mary Connynge, as they at last found themselves +alone in the lodge, arranging their few belongings for transport, "we +are at last to regain the settlements, and for a time, at least, must +forego our home in the farther West. In time--" + +"Oh, in time! What mean you?" + +"Why, we may return." + +"Never! I have had my fill of savaging. That we are left alive is mighty +merciful. To go thither again--never!" + +"And if I go?" + +"As you like." + +"Meaning, Madam--?" + +"What you like." + +Law seated himself on the corded pack, bringing the tips of his fingers +together. + +"Then my late sweetheart has somewhat changed her fancy?" + +"I have no fancy left. What I was once to you I shall not recall more +than I can avoid in my own mind. As to what you heard from that lying +man, Sir Arthur--" + +"Listen! Stop! Neither must you insult the dead nor the absent. I have +never told you what I learned from Sir Arthur, though it was enough to +set me well distraught." + +"I doubt not that he told you 'twas I who befooled Lady Catharine; that +'twas I who took the letter which you sent--" + +"Stay! No. He told me not so much as that. But he and you together have +told me enough to show me that I was the basest wretch on earth, the +most gullible, the most unspeakably false and cruel. How could I have +doubted the faith of Lady Catharine--how, but for you? Oh, Mary +Connynge, Mary Connynge! Would God a man were so fashioned he might +better withstand the argument of soft flesh and shining eyes! I admit, I +believed the disloyal one, and doubted her who was loyalty itself." + +"And you would go back into the wilderness with one who was as false as +you say." + +"Never!" replied John Law, swiftly. "'Tis as you yourself say. 'Tis all +over. Hell itself hath followed me. Now let it all go, one with the +other, little with big. I did not forget, nor should I though I tried +again. Back to Europe, back to the gaming tables, to the wheels and +cards I go again, and plunge into it madder than ever did man before. +Let us see if chance can bring John Law anything worse than what he has +already known. But, Madam, doubt not. So long as you claim my +protection, here or anywhere on earth--in the West, in France, in +England--it is yours; for I pay for my folly like a man, be assured of +that. The child is ours, and it must be considered. But once let me find +you in unfaithfulness--once let me know that you resign me--then John +Law is free! I shall sometime see Catharine Knollys again. I shall give +her my heart's anguish, and I shall have her heart's scorn in return. +And then, Mary Connynge, the cards, dice, perhaps drink--perhaps gold, +and the end. Madam, remember! And now come!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE GREAT PEACE + + +Of the long and bitter journey from the Iroquois towns to Lake St. +George, down the Richelieu and thence through the deep snows of the +Canadian winter, it boots little to make mention; neither to tell of +that devotion of Raoul de Ligny to the newly-rescued lady, already +reputed in camp rumor to be of noble English family. + +"That _sous-lieutenant_; he is _tête montée_ regarding madame," said +Pierre Noir one evening to Jean Breboeuf. "As to that--well, you know +Monsieur L'as. Pouf! So much for yon monkey, _par comparaison_." + +"He is a great _capitaine_, Monsieur L'as," said Jean Breboeuf. "Never a +better went beyond the Straits." + +"But very sad of late." + +"Oh, _oui_, since the death of his friend, Monsieur _le Capitaine_ +Pembroke--may Mary aid his spirit!" + +"Monsieur L'as goes not on the trail again," said Pierre Noir. "At +least not while this look is in his eye." + +"The more the loss, Pierre Noir; but some day the woods will call to him +again. I know not how long it may be, yet some day Mother Messasebe will +raise her finger and beckon to Monsieur L'as, and say: 'Come, my son!' +'Tis thus, as you know, Pierre Noir." + +Yet at length the straggling settlements at Montréal were reached, and +here, after the fashion of the frontier, some sort of _ménage_ was +inaugurated for Law and his party. Here they lived through the rest of +the winter and through the long, slow spring. + +And then set on again the heats of summer, and there came apace the time +agreed upon, in the month of August, for the widely heralded assembling +of the tribes for the Great Peace; one of the most picturesque, as it +was one of the most remarkable and significant meetings of widely +diverse human beings, that ever took place within the ken of history. + +They came, these savages, now first owning the strength of the invading +white men, from all the far and unknown corners of the Western +wilderness. They came afoot, and with little trains of dogs, in single +canoes, in little groups and growing flotillas and vast fleets of +canoes, pushing on and on, down stream, following the tide of the furs +down this pathway of more than a thousand miles. The Iroquois, for once +mindful of a promise, came in a compact fleet, a hundred canoes strong, +and they stalked about the island for days, naked, stark, gigantic, +contemptuous of white and red men, of friend and foe alike. The +scattered Algonquins, whose villages had been razed by these same savage +warriors, came down by scores out of the Northern woods, along little, +unknown streams, and over paths with which none but themselves were +acquainted. From the North, group joined group, and village added itself +to village, until a vast body of people had assembled, whose numbers +would have been hard to estimate, and who proved difficult enough to +accommodate. Yet from the farther West, adding their numbers to those +already gathered, came the fleets of the driven Hurons, and the +Ojibways, and the Miamis, and the Outagamies, and the Ottawas, the +Menominies and the Mascoutins--even the Illini, late objects of the +wrath of the Five Nations. The whole Western wilderness poured forth its +savage population, till all the shores of the St. Lawrence seemed one +vast aboriginal encampment. These massed at the rendezvous about the +puny settlement of Montréal in such numbers that, in comparison, the +white population seemed insignificant. Then, had there been a Pontiac or +a Tecumseh, had there been one leader of the tribes able to teach the +strength of unity, the white settlements of upper America had indeed +been utterly destroyed. Naught but ancient tribal jealousies held the +savages apart. + +With these tribesmen were many prisoners, captives taken in raids all +along the thin and straggling frontier; farmers and artisans, peasants +and soldiers, women raped from the farms of the Richelieu _censitaires_, +and wood-rangers now grown savage as their captors and loth to leave the +wild life into which they had so naturally grown. It was the first +reflex of the wave, and even now the bits of flotsam and jetsam of wild +life were fain to cling to the Western shore whither they had been +carried by the advancing flood. This was the meeting of the ebb with the +sea that sent it forward, the meeting of civilized and savage; and +strange enough was the nature of those confluent tides. Whether the red +men were yielding to civilization, or the whites all turning +savage--this question might well have arisen to an observer of this +tremendous spectacle. The wigwams of the different tribes and clans and +families were grouped apart, scattered along all the narrow shore back +of the great hill, and over the Convent gardens; and among these +stalked the native French, clad in coarse cloth of blue, with gaudy belt +and buckskins, and cap of fur and moccasins of hide, mingling +fraternally with their tufted and bepainted visitors, as well as with +those rangers, both envied and hated, the savage _coureurs de bois_ of +the far Northern fur trade; men bearded, silent, stern, clad in +breech-clout and leggings like any savage, as silent, as stoical, as +hardy on the trail as on the narrow thwart of the canoe. + +Savage feastings, riotings and drunkenness, and long debaucheries came +with the Great Peace, when once the word had gone out that the fur trade +was to be resumed. Henceforth there was to be peace. The French were no +longer to raid the little cabins along the Kennebec and the Penobscot. +The river Richelieu was to be no longer a red war trail. The English +were no longer to offer arms and blankets for the beaver, belonging by +right of prior discovery to those who offered French brandy and French +beads. The Iroquois were no longer to pursue a timid foe across the +great prairies of the valley of the Messasebe. The Ojibways were not to +ambush the scattered parties of the Iroquois. The unambitious colonists +of New England and New York were to be left to till their stony farms in +quiet. Meantime, the fur trade, wasteful, licentious, unprofitable, was +to extend onward and outward in all the marches of the West. From one +end of the Great River of the West to the other the insignia of France +and of France's king were to be erected, and France's posts were to hold +all the ancient trails. Even at the mouth of the Great River, +forestalling these sullen English and these sluggish English colonists, +far to the south in the somber forests and miasmatic marshes, there was +to be established one more ruling point for the arms of Louis the Grand. +It was a great game this, for which the continent of America was in +preparation. It was a mighty thing, this gathering of the Great Peace, +this time when colonists and their king were seeing the first breaking +of the wave on the shore of an empire alluring, wonderful, unparalleled. + +Into this wild rabble of savages and citizens, of priest and soldier and +_coureur_, Law's friends, Pierre Noir and Jean Breboeuf, swiftly +disappeared, naturally, fitly and unavoidably. "The West is calling to +us, Monsieur," said Pierre Noir one morning, as he stood looking out +across the river. "I hear once more the spirits of the Messasebe. +Monsieur, will you come?" + +Law shook his head. Yet two days later, as he stood at that very point, +there came to him the silent feet of two _coureurs_ instead of one. Once +more he heard in his ear the question: "Monsieur L'as, will you come?" + +At this voice he started. In an instant his arms were about the neck of +Du Mesne, and tears were falling from the eyes of both in the welcome of +that brotherhood which is admitted only by those who have known together +arms and danger and hardship, the touch of the hard ground and the sight +of the wide blue sky. + +"Du Mesne, my friend!" + +"Monsieur L'as!" + +"It is as though you came from the depths of the sea, Du Mesne!" said +Law. + +"And as though you yourself arose from the grave, Monsieur!" + +"How did you know--?" + +"Why, easily. You do not yet understand the ways of the wilderness, +where news travels as fast as in the cities. You were hardly below the +foot of Michiganon before runners from the Illini had spread the news +along the Chicaqua, where I was then in camp. For the rest, the runners +brought also news of the Big Peace. I reasoned that the Iroquois would +not dare to destroy their captives, that in time the agents of the +Government would receive the captives of the Iroquois--that these +captives would naturally come to the settlements on the St. Lawrence, +since it was the French against whom the Iroquois had been at war; that +having come to Montréal, you would naturally remain here for a time. The +rest was easy. I fared on to the Straits this spring, and then on down +the Lakes. I have sold our furs, and am now ready to account to you with +a sum quite as much as we should have expected. + +"Now, Monsieur," and Du Mesne stretched out his arm again, pointing to +the down-coming flood of the St. Lawrence, "Monsieur, will you come? I +see not the St. Lawrence, but the Messasebe. I can hear the voices +calling!" + +Law dashed his hand across his eyes and turned his head away. "Not yet, +Du Mesne," said he. "I do not know. Not yet. I must first go across the +waters. Perhaps sometime--I can not tell. But this, my comrades, my +brothers, I do know; that never, until the last sod lies on my grave, +will I forget the Messasebe, or forget you. Go back, if you will, my +brothers; but at night, when you sit by your fireside, think of me, as I +shall think of you, there in the great valley. My friends, it is the +heart of the world!" + +"But, Monsieur--" + +"There, Du Mesne--I would not talk to-day. At another time. Brothers, +adieu!" + +"Adieu, my brother," said the _coureur_, his own emotion showing in his +eyes; and their hands met again. + +"Monsieur is cast down," said Du Mesne to Pierre Noir later, as they +reached the beach. "Now, what think you? + +"Usually, as you know, Pierre, it is a question of some woman. It +reminds me, Wabana was remiss enough when I left her among the Illini +with you. Now, God bless my heart, I find her--how think you? With her +crucifix lost, cooking for a dirty Ojibway!" + +"Mary Mother!" said Pierre Noir, "if it be a matter of a woman--well, +God help us all! At least 'tis something that will take Monsieur L'as +over seas again." + +"'Tis mostly a woman," mused Du Mesne; "but this passeth my wit." + +"True, they pass the wit of all. Now, did I ever tell thee about the +mission girl at Michilimackinac--but stay! That for another time. They +tell me that our comrade, Greysolon du L'hut, is expected in to-morrow +with a party from the far end of Superior. Come, let us have the news." + + "_Tous les printemps, + Tant des nouvelles_," + +hummed Du Mesne, as he flung his arm above the shoulder of the other; +and the two so disappeared adown the beach. + +Dully, apathetically, Law lived on his life here at Montréal for yet a +time, at the edge of that wilderness which had proved all else but Eden. +Near to him, though in these guarded times guest by necessity of the +good sisters of the Convent, dwelt Mary Connynge. And as for these two, +it might be said that each but bided the time. To her Law might as well +have been one of the corded Sulpician priests; and she to him, for all +he liked, one of the nuns of the Convent garden. What did it all mean; +where was it all to end? he asked himself a thousand times; and a +thousand times his mind failed him of any answer. He waited, watching +the great encampment disappear, first slowly, then swiftly and suddenly, +so that in a night the last of the lodges had gone and the last canoe +had left the shore. There remained only the hurrying flood of the St. +Lawrence, coming from the West. + +The autumn came on. Early in November the ships would leave for France. +Yet before the beginning of November there came swiftly and sharply the +settlement of the questions which racked Law's mind. One morning Mary +Connynge was missing from the Convent, nor could any of the sisters, nor +the mother superior, explain how or when she had departed! + +Yet, had there been close observers, there might have been seen a boat +dropping down the river on the early morning of that day. And at Quebec +there was later reported in the books of the intendant the shipping, +upon the good bark Dauphine, of Lieutenant Raoul de Ligny, sometime +officer of the regiment Carignan, formerly stationed in New France; with +him a lady recently from Montréal, known very well to Lieutenant de +Ligny and his family; and to be in his care _en voyage_ to France; the +name of said lady illegible upon the records, the spelling apparently +not having suited the clerk who wrote it, and then forgot it in the +press of other things. + +Certain of the governor's household, as well as two or three _habitants_ +from the lower town, witnessed the arrival of this lady, who came down +from Montréal. They saw her take boat for the bark Dauphine, one of the +last ships to go down the river that fall. Yes, it was easily to be +established. Dark, with singular, brown eyes, _petite_, yet not over +small, of good figure--assuredly so much could be said; for obviously +the king, kindly as he might feel toward the colony of New France, could +not send out, among the young women supplied to the colonists as wives, +very many such demoiselles as this; otherwise assuredly all France +would have followed the king's ships to the St. Lawrence. + +John Law, a grave and saddened man, yet one now no longer lacking in +decision, stood alone one day at the parapet of the great rock of +Quebec, gazing down the broad expanse of the stream below. He was alone +except for a little child, a child too young to know her mother, had +death or disaster at that time removed the mother. Law took the little +one up in his arms and gazed hard upon the upturned face. + +"Catharine!" he said to himself. "Catharine! Catharine!" + +"Pardon, Monsieur," said a voice at his elbow. "Surely I have seen you +before this?" + +Law turned. Joncaire, the ambassador of peace, stood by, smiling and +extending his hand. + +"Naturally, I could never forget you," said Law. + +"Monsieur looks at the shipping," said Joncaire, smiling. "Surely he +would not be leaving New France, after so luckily escaping the worst of +her dangers?" + +"Life might be the same for me over there as here," replied Law. "As for +my luck, I must declare myself the most unfortunate man on earth." + +"Your wife, perhaps, is ill?" + +"Pardon, I have none." + +"Pardon, in turn, Monsieur--but, you see--the child?" + +"It is the child of a savage woman," said Law. + +Joncaire pulled aside the infant's hood. He gave no sign, and a nice +indifference sat in his query: "_Une belle sauvage_?" + +"_Belle sauvage_!" + + + + +BOOK III + +FRANCE + + +CHAPTER I + +THE GRAND MONARQUE + + +On a great bed of state, satin draped, flanked with ancient tapestries, +piled sickeningly soft with heaps of pillows, there lay a thin, withered +little man--old, old and very feeble. His face was shrunken and drawn +with pain; his eyes, once bright, were dulled; his brow, formerly +imperious, had lost its arrogance. Under the coverings which, in the +unrest of illness, he now pulled high about his face, now tossed +restlessly aside, his figure lay, an elongated, shapeless blot, scarce +showing beneath the silks. One limb, twitched and drawn up convulsively, +told of a definite seat of pain. The hands, thin and wasted, lay out +upon the coverlets; and the thumbs were creeping, creeping ever more +insistently, under the cover of the fingers, telling that the battle for +life was lost, that the surrender had been made. + +It was a death-bed, this great bed of state; a death-bed situated in the +heart of the greatest temple of desire ever built in all the world. He +who had been master there, who had set in order those miles of stately +columns, those seas of glittering gilt and crystal, he who had been +magician, builder, creator, perverter, debaser--he, Louis of France, the +Grand Monarque, now lay suffering like any ordinary human being, like +any common man. + +Last night the four and twenty violins, under the king's command, had +shrilled their chorus, as had been their wont for years while the master +dined. This morning the cordon of drums and hautboys had pealed their +high and martial music. Useless. The one or the other music fell upon +ears too dull to hear. The formal tribute to the central soul for a time +continued of its own inertia; for a time royalty had still its worship; +yet the custom was but a lagging one. The musicians grimaced and made +what discord they liked, openly, insolently, scorning this weak and +withered figure on the silken bed. The cordon of the white and blue +guards of the Household still swept about the vast pleasure grounds of +this fairy temple; yet the officers left their posts and conversed one +with the other. Musicians and guards, spectators and populace, all were +waiting, waiting until the end should come. Farther out and beyond, +where the peaked roofs of Paris rose, back of that line which this +imperious mind had decreed should not be passed by the dwellings of +Paris, which must not come too near this temple of luxury, nor disturb +the king while he enjoyed himself--back of the perfunctorily loyal +guards of the Household, there reached the ragged, shapeless masses of +the people of Paris and of France, waiting, smiling, as some animal +licking its chops in expectation of some satisfying thing. They were +waiting for news of the death of this shrunken man, this creature once +so full of arrogant lust, then so full of somber repentance, now so full +of the very taste of death. + +On the great tapestry that hung above the head of the curtained bed +shone the double sun of Louis the Grand, which had meant death and +devastation to so much of Europe. It blazed, mimicking the glory that +was gone; but toward it there was raised no sword nor scepter more in +vow or exaltation. The race was run, the sun was sinking to its setting. +Nothing but a man--a weary, worn-out, dying man--was Louis, the Grand +Monarque, king for seventy-two years of France, almost king of Europe. +This death-bed lay in the center of a land oppressed, ground down, +impoverished. The hearts and lives of thousands were in these +colonnades. The people had paid for their king. They had fed him fat and +kept him full of loves. In return, he had trampled the people into the +very dust. He had robbed even their ancient nobles of honors and +consideration. Blackened, ruined, a vast graveyard, a monumental +starving-ground, France lay about his death-bed, and its people were but +waiting with grim impatience for their king to die. What France might do +in the future was unknown; yet it was unthinkable that aught could be +worse than this glorious reign of Louis, the Grand Monarque, this +crumbling clod, this resolving excrescence, this phosphorescent, +disintegrating fungus of a diseased life and time. + +Seventy-two years a king; thirty years a libertine; twenty years a +repentant. Son, grandson, great-grandson, all gone, as though to leave +not one of that once haughty breed. For France no hope at all; and for +the house of Bourbon, all the hope there might be in the life of a +little boy, sullen, tiny, timid. Far over in Paris, busy about his games +and his loves, a jesting, long-curled gallant, the Duke of Orléans, +nephew of this king, was holding a court of his own. And from this court +which might be, back to the court which was, but which might not be +long, swung back and forth the fawning creatures of the former court. +This was the central picture of France, and Paris, and of the New World +on this day of the year 1715. + +In the room about the bed of state, uncertain groups of watchers +whispered noisily. The five physicians, who had tried first one remedy +and then another; the rustic physician whose nostrum had kept life +within the king for some unexpected days; the ladies who had waited upon +the relatives of the king; some of the relatives themselves; Villeroy, +guardian of the young king soon to be; the bastard, and the wife of that +bastard, who hoped for the king's shoes; the mistress of his earlier +years, for many years his wife--Maintenon, that peerless hypocrite of +all the years--all these passed, and hesitated, and looked, waiting, as +did the hungry crowds in Paris toward the Seine, until the double sun +should set, and the crawling thumbs at last should find their shelter. +The Grand Monarque was losing the only time in all his life when he +might have learned human wisdom. + +"Madame!" whispered the dry lips, faintly. + +She who was addressed as madame, this woman Maintenon, pious murderer, +unrivaled hypocrite, unspeakably self-contained dissembler, the woman +who lost for France an empire greater than all France, stepped now to +the bed-side of the dying monarch, inclining her head to hear what he +might have to say. Was Maintenon, the outcast, the widow, the wife of +the king, at last to be made ruler of the Church in France? Was she to +govern in the household of the king even after the king had departed? +The woman bent over the dying man, the covetousness of her soul showing +in her eyes, struggle as she might to retain her habitual and +unparalleled self-control. + +The dying man muttered uneasily. His mind was clouded, his eyes saw +other things. He turned back to earlier days, when life was bright, when +he, Louis, as a young man, had lived and loved as any other. + +"Louise," he murmured. "Louise! Forgive! Meet me--Louise--dear one. Meet +me yonder--" + +An icy pallor swept across the face of the arch hypocrite who bent over +him. Into her soul there sank like a knife this consciousness of the +undying power of a real love. La Vallière, the love of the youth of +Louis, La Vallière, the beautiful, and sweet, and womanly, dead and gone +these long years since, but still loved and now triumphant--she it was +whom Louis now remembered. + +Maintenon turned from the bed-side. She stood, an aged and unhappy +woman, old, gray and haggard, not success but failure written upon every +lineament. For one instant she stood, her hands clenched, slow anger +breaking through the mask which, for a quarter of a century, she had so +successfully worn. + +"Bah!" she cried. "Bah! 'Tis a pretty rendezvous this king would set +for me!" And then she swept from the room, raged for a time apart, and +so took leave of life and of ambition. + +At length even the last energies of the once stubborn will gave way. The +last gasp of the failing breath was drawn. The herald at the window +announced to the waiting multitude that Louis the Fourteenth was no +more. + +"Long live the king!" exclaimed the multitude. They hailed the new +monarch with mockery; but laughter, and sincere joy and feasting were +the testimonials of their emotions at the death of the king but now +departed. + +On the next day a cheap, tawdry and unimposing procession wended its way +through the back streets of Paris, its leader seeking to escape even the +edges of the mob, lest the people should fall upon the somber little +pageant and rend it into fragments. This was the funeral cortège of +Louis, the Grand Monarque, Louis the lustful, Louis the bigot, Louis the +ignorant, Louis the unhappy. They hurried him to his resting-place, +these last servitors, and then hastened back to the palaces to join +their hearts and voices to the rising wave of joy which swept across all +France at the death of this beloved ruler. + +Now it happened that, as the funeral procession of the king was +hurrying through the side streets near the confines of the old city of +Paris, there encountered it, entering from the great highway which led +from the east up to the city gates, the carriage of a gentleman who +might, apparently with justice, have laid some claim to consequence. It +had its guards and coachmen, and was attended by two riders in livery, +who kept it company along the narrow streets. This equipage met the head +of the hurrying funeral cortège, and found occasion for a moment to +pause. Thus there passed, the one going to his grave, the other to his +goal, the two men with whom the France of that day was most intimately +concerned. + +There came from the window of the coach the voice of one inquiring the +reason of the halt, and there might have been seen through the upper +portion of the vehicle's door the face of the owner of the carriage. He +seemed a man of imposing presence, with face open and handsome, and an +eye bright, bold and full of intelligence. His garb was rich and +elegant, his air well contained and dignified. + +"Guillaume," he called out, "what is it that detains us?" + +"It is nothing, Monsieur L'as," was the reply, "They tell me it is but +the funeral of the king." + +"_Eh bien_!" replied Law, turning to one who sat beside him in the +coach. "Nothing! 'Tis nothing but the funeral of the king!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +EVER SAID SHE NAY + + +The coach proceeded steadily on its way, passing in toward that quarter +where the high-piled, peaked roofs and jagged spires betokened ancient +Paris. On every hand arose confused sounds from the streets, now filled +with a populace merry as though some pleasant carnival were just +beginning. Shopkeeper called across to his neighbor, tradesman gossiped +with gallant. Even the stolid faces of the plodding peasants, fresh past +the gate-tax and bound for the markets to seek what little there +remained after giving to the king, bore an unwonted look, as though hope +might yet succeed to their surprise. + +"Ohé! Marie," called one stout dame to another, who stood smiling in her +doorway near by. "See the fine coach coming. That is the sort you and I +shall have one of these days, now that the king is dead. God bless the +new king, and may he die young! A plague to all kings, Marie. And now +come and sit with my man and me, for we've a bottle left, and while it +lasts we drink freedom from all kings!" + +"You speak words of gold, Suzanne," was the reply. "Surely I will drink +with you, and wish a pleasant and speedy death to kings." + +"But now, Marie," said the other, argumentatively, "as to my good duke +regent, that is otherwise. It goes about that he will change all things. +One is to amuse one's self now and then, and not to work forever for the +taxes and the conscription. Long live the regent, then, say I!" + +"Yes, and let us hope that regents never turn to kings. There are to be +new days here in France. We people, aye, my faith! We people, so they +say, are to be considered. True, we shall have carriages one day, Marie, +like that of my Lord who passes." + +John Law and his companions heard broken bits of such speech as this as +they passed on. + +"Ah, they talk," replied he at last, turning toward his companions, "and +this is talk which means something. Within the year we shall see Paris +upside down. These people are ready for any new thing. But"--and his +face lost some of its gravity--"the streets are none too safe to-day, my +Lady. Therefore you must forgive me if I do not set you down, but keep +you prisoner until you reach your own gates. 'Tis not your fault that +your carriage broke down on the road from Marly; and as for my brother +Will and myself, we can not forego a good fortune which enables us at +last to destroy a certain long-standing debt of a carriage ride given +us, once upon a time, by the Lady Catharine Knollys." + +"At least, then, we shall be well acquit on both sides," replied the +soft voice of the woman. "I may, perhaps, be an unwilling prisoner for +so short a time." + +"Madam, I would God it might be forever!" + +It was the same John Law of old who made this impetuous reply, and +indeed he seemed scarce changed by the passing of these few years of +time. It was the audacious youth of the English highway who now looked +at her with grave face, yet with eyes that shone. + +Some years had indeed passed since Law, turning his back upon the appeal +of the wide New World, had again set foot upon the shores of England, +from which his departure had been so singular. Driven by the goads of +remorse, it had been his first thought to seek out the Lady Catharine +Knollys; and so intent had he been on this quest, that he learned almost +without emotion of the king's pardon which had been entered, discharging +him of further penalty of the law of England. Meeting Lady Catharine, he +learned, as have others since and before him, that a human soul may +have laws inflexible; that the iron bars of a woman's resolve may bar +one out, even as prison doors may bar him in. He found the Lady +Catharine unshakeable in her resolve not to see him or speak with him. +Whereat he raged, expostulated by post, waited, waylaid, and so at +length gained an interview, which taught him many things. + +He found the Lady Catharine Knollys changed from a light-hearted girl to +a maiden tall, grave, reserved and sad, offering no reproaches, +listening to no protestations. Told of Sir Arthur Pembroke's horrible +death, she wept with tears which his survivor envied. Told at length of +the little child, she sat wide-eyed and silent. Approached with words of +remorse, with expostulations, promises, she shrank back in absolute +horror, trembling, so that in very pity the wretched young man left her +and found his way out into a world suddenly grown old and gray. + +After this dismissal, Law for many months saw nothing, heard nothing of +this woman whom he had wronged, even as he received no sign from the +woman who had forsaken him over seas. He remained away as long as might +be, until his violent nature, geyser-like, gathered inner storm and fury +by repression, and broke away in wild eruption. + +Once more he sought the presence of the woman whose face haunted his +soul, and once more he met ice and adamant stronger than his own fires. +Beaten, he fled from London and from England, seeking still, after the +ancient and ineffective fashion of man, to forget, though he himself had +confessed the lesson that man can not escape himself, but takes his own +hell with him wherever he goes. + +Rejected, as he was now, by the new ministry of England, none the less +every capital of Europe came presently to know John Law, gambler, +student and financier. Before every ruler on the continent he laid his +system of financial revolution, and one by one they smiled, or shrugged, +or scoffed at him. Baffled once more in his dearest purpose, he took +again to play, play in such colossal and audacious form as never yet had +been seen even in the gayest courts of a time when gaming was a vice to +be called national. No hazard was too great for him, no success and no +reverse sufficiently keen to cause him any apparent concern. There was +no risk sharp enough to deaden the gnawing in his soul, no excitement +strong enough to wipe away from his mind the black panorama of his past. + +He won princely fortunes and cast them away again. With the figure and +the air of a prince, he gained greater reputation than any prince of +Europe. Upon him were spent the blandishments of the fairest women of +his time. Yet not this, not all this, served to steady his energies, now +unbalanced, speeding without guidance. The gold, heaped high on the +tables, was not enough to stupefy his mind, not enough though he doubled +and trebled it, though he cast great golden markers to spare him trouble +in the counting of his winnings. Still student, still mathematician, he +sought at Amsterdam, at Paris, at Vienna, all new theories which offered +in the science of banking and finance, even as at the same time he +delved still further into the mysteries of recurrences and chance. + +In this latter such was his success that losers made complaint, unjust +but effectual, to the king, so that Law was obliged to leave Paris for a +time. He had dwelt long enough in Paris, this double-natured man, this +student and creator, this gambler and gallant, to win the friendship of +Philippe of Orléans, later to be regent of France; and gay enough had +been the life they two had led--so gay, so intimate, that Philippe gave +promise that, should he ever hold in his own hands the Government of +France, he would end Law's banishment and give to him the opportunity he +sought, of proving those theories of finance which constituted the +absorbing ambition of his life. + +Meantime Law, ever restless, had passed from one capital of Europe to +another, dragging with him from hotel to hotel the young child whose +life had been cast in such feverish and unnatural surroundings. He +continued to challenge every hazard, fearless, reckless, contemptuous, +and withal wretched, as one must be who, after years of effort, found +that he could not banish from his mind the pictures of a dark-floored +prison, and of a knife-stab in the dark, and of raging, awful waters, +and of a girl beautiful, though with sealed lips and heart of ice. From +time to time, as was well known, Law returned to England. He heard of +the Lady Catharine Knollys, as might easily be done in London; heard of +her as a young woman kind of heart, soft of speech, with tenderness for +every little suffering thing; a beautiful young woman, whose admirers +listed scores; but who never yet, even according to the eagerest gossip +of the capital, had found a suitor to whom she gave word or thought of +love. + +So now at last the arrogant selfishness of his heart began to yield. His +heart was broken before it might soften, but soften at last it did. And +so he built up in his soul the image of a grave, sweet saint, kindly and +gentle-voiced, unapproachable, not to be profaned. To this image--ah, +which of us has not had such a shrine!--he brought in secret the homage +of his life, his confessions, his despairs, his hopes, his resolutions; +guiding thereby all his life, as well as poor mortal man may do, failing +ever of his own standards, as all men do, yet harking ever back to that +secret sibyl, reckoning all things from her, for her, by her. + +There came at length one chastened hour when they met in calmness, when +there was no longer talk of love between them, when he stood before her +as though indeed at the altar of some marble deity. Always her answer +had been that the past had been a mistake; that she had professed to +love a man, not knowing what that man was; that she had suffered, but +that it was better so, since it had brought understanding. Now, in this +calmer time, she begged of him knowledge of this child, regretting the +wandering life which had been its portion, saying that for Mary Connynge +she no longer felt horror and hatred. Thus it was that in a hasty moment +Law had impulsively begged her to assume some sort of tutelage over that +unfortunate child. It was to his own amazement that he heard Lady +Catharine Knollys consent, stipulating that the child should be placed +in a Paris convent for two years, and that for two years John Law should +see neither his daughter nor herself. Obedient as a child himself he had +promised. + +"Now, go away," she then had said to him. "Go your own way. Drink, +dice, game, and waste the talents God hath given you. You have made ruin +enough for all of us. I would only that it may not run so far as to +another generation." + +So both had kept their promises; and now the two years were done, years +spent by Law more manfully than any of his life. His fortune he had +gathered together, amounting to more than a million livres. He had sent +once more for his brother Will, and thus the two had lived for some time +in company in lower Europe, the elder brother still curious as ever in +his abstruse theories of banking and finance--theories then new, now +outlived in great part, though fit to be called a portion of the great +foundation of the commercial system of the world. It was a wiser and +soberer and riper John Law, this man who had but recently received a +summons from Philippe of Orléans to be present in Paris, for that the +king was dying, and that all France, France the bankrupt and distracted, +was on the brink of sudden and perhaps fateful change. + +With a quick revival of all his Highland superstition, Law hailed now as +happy harbinger the fact that, upon his entry into Paris, the city once +more of his hopes, he had met in such fashion this lady of his dreams, +even at such time as the seal of silence was lifted from his lips. It +was no wonder that his eye gleamed, that his voice took on the old +vibrant tone, that every gesture, in thought or in spite of thought, +assumed the tender deference of the lover. + +It was a fair woman, this chance guest of the highway whom he now +accosted--bronze-haired, blue-eyed, soft of voice, queenly of mien, +gentle, calm and truly lovable. Oh, what waste that those arms should +hold nothing, that lips such as those should know no kisses, that eyes +like those should never swim in love! What robbery! What crime! And this +man, thief of this woman's life, felt his heart pinch again in the old, +sharp anguish of remorse, bitterest because unavailing. + +For the Lady Catharine herself there had been also many changes. The +death of her brother, the Earl of Banbury, had wrought many shifts in +the circumstances of a house apparently pursued by unkind fate. Left +practically alone and caring little for the life of London, even after +there had worn away the chill of suspicion which followed upon the +popular knowledge of her connection with the escape of Law from London, +Lady Catharine Knollys turned to a life and world suddenly grown vague +and empty. Travel upon the continent with friends, occasional visits to +the old family house in England, long sojourns in this or the other +city--such had been her life, quiet, sweet, reproachless and +unreproaching. For the present she had taken an hôtel in the older part +of Paris, in connection with her friend, the Countess of Warrington, +sometime connected with the embassy of that Lord Stair who was later to +act as spy for England in Paris, now so soon to know tumultuous scenes. +With these scenes, as time was soon to prove, there was to be most +intimately connected this very man who, now bending forward attentively, +now listening respectfully, and ever gazing directly and ardently, heard +naught of plots or plans, cared naught for the Paris which lay about, +saw naught but the beautiful face before him, felt naught but some deep, +compelling thrill in every heart-string which now reaching sweet accord +in spite of fate, in spite of the past, in spite of all, went singing on +in a deep melody of joy. This was she, the idol, the deity. Let the +world wag. It was a moment yet ere paradise must end! + +"Madam, I would God it might be forever!" said Law again. The old +stubborn nature was showing once more, but under it something deeper, +softer, tenderer. + +A sudden panic fear called at the heart of her to whom he spoke. Two +rosy spots shone in her cheeks, and as she gazed, her eyes showed the +veiled softening of woman's gentleness. There fell a silence. + +"Madam, I could feel that this were Sadler's Wells over again," said Law +a moment later. + +But now the carriage had arrived at the destination named by Lady +Catharine. Law sprang out, hat in hand, and assisted Lady Catharine to +the curb. A passing flower girl, gaily offering her wares, paused as the +carriage drew up. Law turned quickly and caught from her as many roses +as his hand could grasp, handing her in return half as much coin as her +smaller palm could hold. He turned to the Lady Catharine, and bowed with +that grace which was the talk of a world of gallants. In his hand he +extended a flower. + +"Madam, as before!" he said. + +There was a sob in his voice. Their eyes met fairly, unmasked as they +had not been for years. Tears came into the man's eyes, the first that +had ever sat there; tears for the past, tears for that sweetness which +once might have been. + +"'Tis for the king! They weep for the king!" sang out the hard voice of +the flower girl, ironically, as she skipped away. "Ohé, for the king, +for the king!" + +"Nay, for the queen!" said John Law, as he gazed into the eyes of +Catharine Knollys. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +SEARCH THOU MY HEART + + +"Only believe me, Lady Catharine, and I shall do everything I promised +years ago--I shall lay all France at your feet. But if you deny me thus +always, I shall make all France a mockery." + +"Monsieur is fresh from the South of France," replied the Lady Catharine +Knollys. "Has Gascon wine perhaps put Gascon speech into his mouth?" + +"Oh, laugh if you like," exclaimed Law, rising and pacing across the +great room in which these two had met. "Laugh and mock, but we shall +see!" + +"Granted that Mr. Law is well within his customary modesty," replied +Lady Catharine, "and granted even that Mr. Law has all France in the +hollow of his hand to-day, to do with as he likes, I must confess I see +not why France should suffer because I myself have found it difficult to +endorse Mr. Law's personal code of morals." + +It was the third day after Law's entry into Paris, and the first time +for more than two long years that he found himself alone with the Lady +Catharine Knollys. His eagerness might have excused his impetuous and +boastful speech. + +As for the Lady Catharine, that one swift, electric moment at the street +curb had well-nigh undone more than two years of resolve. She had heard +herself, as it were in a dream, promising that this man might come. She +had found herself later in her own apartments, panting, wide-eyed, +afraid. Some great hand, unseen, uninvited, mysterious, had swept +ruthlessly across each chord of womanly reserve and resolution which so +long she had held well-ordered and absolutely under control. It was +self-distrust, fear, which now compelled her to take refuge in this +woman's fence of speech with him. "Surely," argued she with herself, "if +love once dies, then it is dead forever, and can never be revived. +Surely," she insisted to herself, "my love is dead. Then--ah, but then +was it dead? Can my heart grow again?" asked the Lady Catharine of +herself, tremblingly. This was that which gave her pause. It was this +also which gave to her cheek its brighter color, to her eye a softer +gleam; and to her speech this covering shield of badinage. + +Yet all her defenses were in a way to be fairly beaten down by the +intentness of the other. All things he put aside or overrode, and would +speak but of himself and herself, of his plans, his opportunities, and +of how these were concerned with himself and with her. + +"There are those who judge not so harshly as yourself, Madam," resumed +Law. "His Grace the regent is good enough to believe that my studies +have gone deeper than the green cloth of the gaming table. Now, I tell +you, my time has come--my day at last is here. I tell you that I shall +prove to you everything which I said to you long ago, back there in old +England. I shall prove to you that I have not been altogether an idler +and a trifler. I shall bring to you, as I promised you long ago, all the +wealth, all the distinction--" + +"But such speech is needless, Mr. Law," came the reply. "I have all the +wealth I need, nor do I crave distinction, save of my own selection." + +"But you do not dream! This is a day unparalleled. There will be such +changes here as never yet were known. Within a week you shall hear of my +name in Paris. Within a month you shall hear of it beyond the gates of +Paris. Within a year you shall hear nothing else in Europe!" + +"As I hear nothing else here now, Monsieur?" + +Like a horse restless under the snaffle, the man shook his head, but +went on. "If you should be offered wealth more than any woman of Paris, +if you had precedence over the proudest peers of France--would these +things have no weight with you?" + +"You know they would not." + +Law cast himself restlessly upon a seat across the room from her. "I +think I do," said he, dejectedly. "At times you drive me to my wit's +end. What then, Madam, would avail?" + +"Why, nothing, so far as the past is to be reviewed for you and me. Yet, +I should say that, if there were two here speaking as you and I, and if +they two had no such past as we--then I could fancy that woman saying to +her friend, 'Have you indeed done all that lay within you to do?'" + +"Is it not enough--?" + +"There is nothing, sir, that is enough for a woman, but all!" + +"I have given you all." + +"All that you have left--after yourself." + +"Sharp, sharp indeed are your words, my Lady. And they are most sharp +because they come with justice." + +"Oh," broke out the woman, "one may use sharp words who has been scorned +for her own false friend! You would give me all, Mr. Law, but you must +remember that it is only what remains after that--that--" + +"But would you, could you, have cared had there been no 'that'? Had I +done all that lay in me to do, could you then have given me your +confidence, and could you have thought me worthy of it?" + +"Oh, 'if!'" + +"Yes, 'if!' 'If,' and 'as though,' and 'in that case'--these are all we +have to console us in this life. But, sweet one--" + +"Sir, such words I have forbidden," said Lady Catharine, the blood for +one cause or another mounting again into her cheek. + +"You torture me!" broke out Law. + +"As much as you have me? Is it so much as that, Mr. Law?" + +He rose and stood apart, his head falling in despair. "As I have done +this thing, so may God punish me!" said he. "I was not fit, and am not. +Yet I was bold enough to hope that there could be some atonement, some +thing--if my suffering--" + +"There are things, Mr. Law, for which no suffering atones. But why cause +suffering longer for us both? You come again and again. Could you not +leave me for a time untroubled?" + +"How can I?" blazed the man, his forehead furrowed up into a frown, the +moist beads on his brow proving his own intentness. "I can not! I can +not! That is all I know. Ask me not why. I can not; that is all." + +"Sir," said Lady Catharine, "this seems to me no less than terrible." + +"It is indeed no less than terrible. Yet I must come and come again, +bound some day to be heard, not for what I am, but for what I might be. +'Tis not justice I would have, dear heart, but mercy, a woman's mercy!" + +"And you would bully me to agree with you, as I said, in regard to your +own excellent code of morals, Mr. Law?" + +"You evade, like any woman, but if you will, even have it so. At least +there is to be this battle between us all our lives. I will be loved, +Lady Catharine! I must be loved by you! Look in my heart. Search beneath +this man that you and others see. Find me my own fellow, that other self +better than I, who cries out always thus. Look! 'Tis not for me as I am. +No man deserves aught for himself. But find in my heart, Lady Catharine, +that other self, the man I might have been! Dear heart, I beseech you, +look!" + +Impulsively, he even tore apart the front of his coat, as though indeed +to invite such scrutiny. He stood before her, trembling, choking. The +passion of his speech caused the color again to rush to the Lady +Catharine's face. For a moment her bosom rose and fell tumultuously, +deep answering as of old unto deep, in the ancient, wondrous way. + +"Is it the part of manhood to persecute a woman, Mr. Law?" she asked, +her own uncertitude now showing in her tone. + +"I do not know," he answered. + +Lady Catharine looked at him curiously. + +"Do you love me, Mr. Law?" she asked, directly. + +"I have no answer." + +"Did you love that other woman?" + +It took all his courage to reply. "I am not fit to answer," said he. + +"And you would love me, too, for a time and in a way?" + +"I will not answer. I will not trifle." + +"And I am to think Mr. Law better than himself, better than other men; +since you say no man dare ask actual justice?" + +"Worse than other men, and yet a man. A man--my God! Lady Catharine--a +man unworthy, yet a man seized fatally of that love which neither life +nor death can alter!" + +As one fascinated, Lady Catharine sat looking at him. "Then," said she, +"any man may say to any woman--Mr. Law says to me--'I have cared for +such, and so many other women to the extent, let us say, of so many +pounds sterling. But I love you to the extent of twice as many pounds, +shillings and pence?' Is that the dole we women may expect, Mr. Law?" + +"Have back your own words!" he cried. "Nothing is enough but all! And as +God witnesseth in this hour, I have loved you with all my heart-beats, +with all my prayers. I call upon you now, in the name of that love I +know you once bore me--" + +Upon the face of the Lady Catharine there blazed the red mark of the +shame of Knollys. Covering her face with her hands, she suddenly bent +forward, and from her lips there broke a sob of pain. + +In a flash Law was at her side, kneeling, seeking to draw away her +fingers with hands that trembled as much as her own. + +"Do not! Do not!" he cried. "I am not worth it! It shall be as you like. +Let me go away forever. This I can not endure!" + +"Ah, John Law, John Law!" murmured Catharine Knollys, "why did you break +my heart!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE REGENT'S PROMISE + + +"Tell me, then, Monsieur L'as, of this new America. I would fain have +some information at first hand. There was rumor, I know not how exact, +that you once traveled in those regions." + +Thus spake his Grace Philippe, Duke of Orléans, regent of France, now, +in effect, ruler of France. It was the audience which had been arranged +for John Law, that opportunity for which he had waited all his life. +Before him now, as he stood in the great council chamber, facing this +man whose ambitions ended where his own began--at the convivial board +and at the gaming table--he saw the path which led to the success that +he had craved so long. He, Law of Lauriston, sometime adventurer and +gambler, was now playing his last and greatest game. + +"Your Grace," said he, "there be many who might better than I tell you +of that America." + +"There are many who should be able, and many who do," replied the +regent. "By the body of the Lord! we get nothing but information +regarding these provinces of New France, and each advice is worse than +the one preceding it. The gist of it all is that my Lord Governor and my +very good intendant can never agree, save upon one point or so. They +want more money, and they want more soldiers--ah, yes, to be sure, they +also want more women, though we sent them out a ship load of choice +beauties not more than a six-month ago. But tell me, Monsieur L'as, is +it indeed true that you have traveled in America?" + +"For a short time." + +"I have heard nothing regarding you from the intendant at Quebec." + +"Your Grace was not at that time caring for intendants. 'Twas many years +ago, and I was not well known at Quebec by my own name." + +"_Eh bien_? Some adventure, then, perhaps? A woman at the bottom of it, +I warrant." + +"Your Grace is right." + +"'Twas like you, for a fellow of good zest. May God bless all fair +dames. And as to what you found in thus following--or was it in +fleeing--your divinity?" + +"I found many things. For one, that this America is the greatest country +of the world. Neither England nor France is to be compared with it." + +The regent fell back in his chair and laughed heartily. + +"Monsieur, you are indeed, as I have ever found you, of most excellent +wit. You please me enormously." + +"But, your Grace, I am entirely serious." + +"Oh, come, spoil not so good a jest by qualifying, I beseech you! +England or France, indeed--ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!" + +"Your own city of New Orléans, Sire, will lie at the gate of a realm +greater than all France. Your Grace will hand to the young king, when he +shall come of age, a realm excellently worth the ownership of any king." + +"You say rich. In what way?" asked the regent. "We have not had so much +of returns after all. Look at Crozat? Look at--" + +"Oh fie, Crozat! Your Grace, he solved not the first problem of real +commerce. He never dreamed the real richness of America." + +Philippe sat thoughtful, his finger tips together. "Why have we not +heard of these things?" said he. + +"Because of men like Crozat, of men like your governors and intendants +at Quebec. Because, your Grace, as you know very well, of the same +reason which sent me once from Paris, and kept me so long from laying +before you these very plans of which I now would speak." + +"And that cause?" + +"Maintenon." + +"Oh, ah! Indeed--that is to say--" + +"Louis would hear naught of me, of course. Maintenon took care that he +should find I was but heretic." + +"As for myself," said Philippe the regent, "heretic or not heretic makes +but small figure. 'Twill take France a century to overcome her late +surfeit of religion. For us, 'tis most a question of how to keep the +king in the saddle and France underneath." + +"Precisely, your Grace." + +"Frankly, Monsieur L'as, I take it fittest now not so much to ponder +over new worlds as over how to keep in touch with this Old World yet +awhile. France has danced, though for years she danced to the tune of +Louis clad in black. Now France must pay for the music. My faith, I like +not the look of things. This joyful France to-day is a hideous thing. +These people laugh! I had sooner see a lion grin. Now to govern those +given us by Providence to govern," and the regent smiled grimly at the +ancient fiction, "it is most meet that the governed should produce +somewhat of funds in order that they may be governed." + +"Yes, and the error has been in going too far," said Law. "These people +have been taxed beyond the taxation point. Now they laugh." + +"Yes; and by God, Monsieur L'as, when France laughs, beware!" + +"Your Grace admits that France has no further resources." + +"Assuredly." + +"Then tax New France!" cried Law, his hand coming down hard upon the +table, his eyes shining. "Mortgage where the security doubles every +year, where the soil itself is security for wealth greater than all +Europe ever owned." + +"Oh, very well, Monsieur; though later I must ask you to explain." + +"You admit that no more money can be forced from the people of France." + +"Ask the farmers of the taxes. Ask Chamillard of the Treasury. My faith, +look out of the window! Listen! Do I not tell you that France is +laughing?" + +"Very well. Let us also laugh. Let us all laugh together. There is money +in France, more money in Europe. I assure you these people can be +brought to give you cheerfully all they have." + +"It sounds well, Monsieur L'as, but let me ask you how?" + +"France is bankrupt--this is brutal, but none the less true. France must +repudiate her obligations unless something be swiftly done. It is not +noble to repudiate, your Grace. Yet, if we cancel and not repudiate, if +we can obtain the gold of France, of Europe--" + +"Body of God! but you speak large, my friend." + +"Not so large. All subjects shrink as we come close to them by study. +'Tis easy to see that France has not money enough for her own business. +If we had more money in France, we should have more production, and if +we had more production, we might have taxes. Thereby we might have +somewhat in our treasury wherewith to keep the king in the saddle, and +not under foot." + +"Then, if I follow you," said Philippe, leaning slightly forward and +again placing his finger tips judicially together, "you would coin +greater amounts of money. Then, I would ask you, where would you get +your gold for the coinage?" + +"It is not gold I would coin," said Law, "but credit." + +"The kingdom hath been run on credit for these many years." + +"No, 'tis not that kind of credit that I mean. I mean the credit which +comes of confidence. It is fate, necessity, which demands a new system. +The world has grown too much for every man to put his sixpence into the +other man's hand, and carry away in a basket what he buys. We are no +longer savages, to barter beads for hides. Yet we were as savages, did +we not come to realize that this insufficient coin must be replaced in +the evolution of affairs, just as barter has long ago been, replaced." + +"And by what?" + +"As I said, by credit." + +"Do not annoy me by things too deep, but rather suggest some definite +plan, if that may be." + +"First of all, then, as I said to you years ago, we need a bank, a bank +in which all the people of France shall have absolute confidence." + +"You would, then, wish a charter of some sort?" + +"Only provided your Grace shall please. I have of my own funds a half +million livres or more. This I would put into a bank of general nature, +if your Grace shall please. That should be some small guarantee of my +good faith in these plans." + +"Monsieur L'as would seem to have followed play to his good fortune." + +"Never to so good fortune as when first I met your Grace," replied Law. +"I have given to games of chance the severest thought and study. Just +as much more have I given thought and study to this enterprise which I +propose now to lay before you." + +"And you ask the patent of the Crown for your bank?" + +"It were better if the institution received that open endorsement." + +A slow frown settled upon the face of the other. "That is, at the +beginning, impossible, Monsieur L'as," said the regent. "It is you who +must prove these things which you propose." + +"Let it be so, then," said Law, with conviction. "I make no doubt I +shall obtain subscriptions for the shares. Remember my words. Within a +few months you shall see trebled the energies of France. Money is the +only thing which we have not in France. Why, your Grace, suppose the +collectors of taxes in the South of France succeed in raising the king's +levies. That specie must come by wheeled vehicle all the way to Paris. +Consider what loss of time is there, and consider what hindrance to the +trade of the provinces from which so much specie is taken bodily, and to +which it can return later only a little at a time. Is it any wonder that +usury is eating up France? There is not money enough--it is the one +priceless thing; by which I mean only that there is not belief, not +confidence, not credit enough in France. Now, given a bank which holds +the confidence of the people, and I promise the king his taxes, even as +I promise to abolish usury. You shall see money at work, money begetting +money, and that begetting trade, and that producing comfort, and comfort +making easier the collection of the king's taxes." + +"By heaven! you begin to make it somewhat more plain to me." + +"One thing I beg you to observe most carefully, your Grace," said Law, +"nor must it ever be forgotten in our understanding. The shares of this +bank must have a fixed value in regard to the coin of the realm. There +must be no altering of the value of our coin. Grant that the coin does +not fluctuate, and I promise you that my bank _actions_, notes of the +chief bank of Paris, shall soon be found better than gold or silver in +the eyes of France. Moreover, given a greater safety to foreign gold, +and I promise you that too shall pour into Paris in such fashion as has +never yet been seen. Moreover, the people will follow their coin. Paris +will be the greatest capital of Europe. This I promise you I can do." + +"In effect," said the regent, smiling, "you promise me that you can +build a new Paris, a new world! Yet much of this I can in part believe +and understand. Let that be as it may. The immediate truth is that +something must be done, and done at once." + +"Obviously." + +"Our public debt is twenty-six hundred millions of livres. Its annual +interest is eighty millions of livres. We can not pay this interest +alone, not to speak of the principal. Obviously, as you say, the matter +admits of no delay. Your bank--why, by heaven, let us have your bank! +What can we do without your bank? Lastly, how quickly can we have it?" + +"Sire, you make me the happiest man in all the world!" + +"The advantage is quite otherwise, sir. But my head already swims with +figures. Now let us set the rest aside until to-morrow. Meantime, I must +confess to you, my dear friend, there is somewhat else that sits upon my +mind." + +A change came upon the demeanor of his Grace the regent. Laying aside +the dignity of the ruler with the questions of state, he became again +more nearly that Philippe of Orléans, known by his friends as gay, care +free and full of _camaraderie_. + +"Your Grace, could I be of the least personal service, I should be too +happy," said Law. + +"Well, then, I must admit to you that this is a question of a diamond." + +"Oh, a diamond?" + +"The greatest diamond in the world. Indeed, there is none other like it, +and never will be. This Jew hounds me to death, holding up the thing +before mine eyes. Even Saint Simon, that priggish little duke of ours, +tells me that France should have this stone, that it is a dignity which +should not be allowed to pass away from her. But how can France, +bankrupt as she is, afford a little trifle which costs three million +francs? Three million francs, when we can not pay eighty millions annual +interest on our debts!" + +"'Tis as you say, somewhat expensive," said Law. + +"Naturally, for I say to you that this stone had never parallel in the +history of the world. It seems that this overseer in the Golconda mines +got possession of it in some fashion, and escaped to Europe, hiding the +stone about his person. It has been shown in different parts of Europe, +but no one yet has been able to meet the price of this extortioner who +owns it." + +"And yet, as Saint Simon says, there is no dignity too great for the +throne of France." + +"Yet, meantime, the king will have no use for it for several years to +come. There is the Sancy stone--" + +"And, as your Grace remembers, this new stone would look excellent well +upon a woman?" said Law. He gazed, calm and unsmiling, directly into the +eyes of Philippe of Orléans. + +"Monsieur L'as, you have the second sight!" cried the latter, +unblushingly. "You have genius. May God strike me blind if ever I have +seen a keener mind than thine!" + +"All warm blood is akin," replied John Law. "This stone is perhaps for +your Grace's best beloved?" + +"Eh--ah--which? As you know--" + +"Ah! Perhaps for La Parabère. Richly enough she deserves it." + +"Ah, Monsieur L'as, even your mind is at fault now," cried the regent, +shaking his finger exultingly. "I covet this new stone, not for Parabère +nor for any one of those dear friends whom you might name, and whom you +may upon occasion have met at some of my little suppers. It is for +another, whose name or nature you can not guess." + +"Not that mysterious beauty of whom rumor goes about this week, the +woman rated surpassing fair, who has lately come into the acquaintance +of your Grace, and whom your Grace has concealed as jealously as though +he feared to lose her by some highway robbery?" + +"It is the same, I must admit!" + +Law remained thoughtful for a time. "I make no doubt that the Hebrew +would take two million francs for this stone," said he. + +"Perhaps, but two millions is the same as three millions," said +Philippe. "The question is, where to get two millions." + +"As your Grace has said, I have been somewhat fortunate at play," +replied Law, "but I must say that this sum is beyond me, and that both +the diamond and the bank I can not compass. Yet, your Grace has at +disposal the crown jewels of France. Now, beauty is the sovereign of all +sovereigns, as Philippe of Orléans must own. To beauty belongs the use +of these crown jewels. Place them as security, and borrow the two +millions. For myself, I shall take pride in advancing the interest on +the sum for a certain time, until such occasion as the treasury may +afford the price of this trinket. In a short time it will be able to do +so, I promise your Grace; indeed able to buy a dozen such stones, and +take no thought of the matter." + +"Monsieur L'as, do you actually believe these things?" + +"I know them." + +"And you can secure for me this gem?" + +"Assuredly. We shall have it. Let it be called the 'Regent's Diamond,' +after your Grace of Orléans. And when the king shall one day wear it, +let us hope that he will place it as fitly as I am sure your Grace will +do, on the brow of beauty--even though it be beauty unknown, and kept +concealed under princely prerogative!" + +"Ah! You are too keen, Monsieur L'as, too keen to see my new discovery. +Not for a little time shall I take the risk of introducing this fair +friend to one so dangerous as yourself; but one of these times, my very +good friend, if you can secure for me this diamond, you shall come to a +very little supper, and see where for a time I shall place this gem, as +you say, on the brow of beauty. For the sake of Monsieur L'as, head +magician of France my mysterious alien shall then unmask." + +"And then I am to have my bank?" + +"Good God, yes, a thousand banks!" + +"It is agreed?" + +"It is agreed." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A DAY OF MIRACLES + + +The regent of France kept his promise to Law, and the latter in turn +fulfilled his prophecy to the regent. Moreover, he swiftly went far +toward verifying his boast to the Lady Catharine Knollys; for in less +than a month his name was indeed on every tongue in Paris. The Banque +Générale de L'as et Compagnie was seized upon by the public, debtor and +creditor alike, as the one new thing, and hence as the only salvation. +As ever, it pleased Paris to be mystified. In some way the rumor spread +about that Monsieur L'as was _philosophique_; that the Banque Générale +was founded upon "philosophy." It was catch-word sufficient for the +time. + +"_Vive_ Jean L'as, _le philosophe_--Monsieur L'as, he who has saved +France!" So rang the cry of the shallow-witted people of an age splendid +even in its contradictions. And meantime the new bank, crudely +experimental as it was, flourished as though its master spirit had +indeed in his possession the philosopher's stone, turning all things to +gold. + +One day, shortly after the beginning of that brilliantly spectacular +series of events destined so soon to make Paris the Mecca of the world, +there sat at table, in a little, obscure _cabaret_ of the gay city, a +group of persons who seemed to have chosen that spot for purposes of +privacy. Yet privacy was difficult where all the curious passers-by +stared in amaze at the great coach near the door, half filling the +narrow and unclean street--a vehicle bearing the arms of no less a +person than that august and unscrupulous representative of the French +nobility, the Prince de Conti. No less a person than the prince himself, +thin-faced, aquiline and haughty, sat at this table, looking about him +like any common criminal to note whether his speech might be overheard. +Next to him sat a hook-nosed Jew from Austria, Fraslin by name, one of +many of his kind gathered so quickly within the last few weeks in Paris, +even as the scent of carrion fetches ravens to the feast. Another of the +party was a man of middle age, of handsome, calm, patrician features and +an unruffled mien--that De la Chaise, nephew of the confessor of Louis +the Grand, who was later to represent the young king in the provinces of +Louisiana. + +Near by the latter, and indeed the central figure of this gathering, was +one less distinguished than either of the above, evidently neither of +churchly ancestry nor civic distinction--Henri Varenne, sometime clerk +for the noted Paris Frères, farmers of the national revenues. Varenne, +now serving but as clerk in the new bank of L'as et Compagnie, could +have been called a man of no great standing; yet it was he whose +presence had called hither these others to this unusual meeting. In +point of fact, Varenne was a spy, a spy chosen by the jealous Paris +Frères, to learn what he might of the internal mechanism of this new and +startling institution which had sprung into such sudden prominence. + +"As to the bank of these brothers L'as," said the Prince de Conti, +rapping out emphasis with his sword hilt on the table, "it surely has +much to commend it. Here is one of its notes, and witness what it says. +'The bank promises to pay to the bearer at sight the sum of fifty livres +in coin of the weight and standard of this day.' That is to say, of this +date which it bears. Following these, are the words 'value received.' +Now, my notary tells me that these words make this absolutely safe, so +that I know what it means in coin to me at this day, or a year from now. +Is it not so, Monsieur Fraslin?" + +The Jew reached out his hand, took the note, and peered over it in close +scrutiny. + +"'Tis no wonder, Monsieur le Prince," said he, presently, "that orders +have been given by the Government to receive this note without discount +for the payment of the general taxes. Upon my reputation, I must say to +you that these notes will pass current better than your uncertain coin. +The specie of the king has been changed twice in value by the king's +orders. Yet this bases itself upon a specie value which is not subject +to any change. Therein lies its own value." + +"It is indeed true," broke in Varenne. "Not a day goes by at this new +bank but persons come to us and demand our notes rather than coin of the +realm of France." + +"Yes, yes," broke in the prince, "we are agreed as to all this, but +there is much talk about further plans of this Monsieur L'as. He has the +ear of his Grace the regent, surely. Now, sir, tell us what you know of +these future affairs." + +"The rumor is, as I understand it," answered Varenne, "that he is to +take over control of the Company of the West--to succeed, in short, to +the shoes of Anthony Crozat. There come curious stories of this province +of Louisiana." + +"Of course," resumed the prince, with easy wisdom, "we all of us know of +the voyage of L'Huillier, who, with his four ships, went up this great +river Messasebe, and who, as is well known, found that river of Blue +Earth, described by early writers as abounding in gold and gems." + +"Aye, and there comes the strange part of it, and this is what I would +lay before your Lordships, as bearing upon the value of the shares of +this new bank, since it is taking over the charter of the Company of the +West. It is news not yet known upon the street. The story goes that the +half has not been told of the wealth of these provinces. + +"Now, as you say, L'Huillier had with him four ships, and it is well +known that his gentlemen had with them certain ladies of distinction, +among these a mysterious dame reported to have earlier traveled in +portions of New France. The name of this mysterious female is not known, +save that she is reported to have been a good friend of a +_sous-lieutenant_ of the regiment Carignan, sometime dweller at Quebec +and Montréal, and who later became a lieutenant under L'Huillier. It is +said that this same mysterious fair, having returned from America and +having cast aside her lieutenant, has come under protection of no less a +person than his Grace Philippe of Orléans, the regent. Now, as you know, +the bank is the best friend of the regent, and this mysterious dame, as +we are advised by servants of his Grace's household, hath told his Grace +such stories of the wealth of the Messasebe that he has secretly and +quickly made over the control of the trade of those provinces to this +new bank. There is story also that his Grace himself will not lack +profit in this movement!" + +The hand of Conti smote hard upon the table. "By heaven! it were strange +thing," said he, "if this foreign traveler should prove the same +mysterious beauty Philippe is reported to have kept in hiding. My faith, +is it indeed true that we are come upon a time of miracles?" + +"Listen!" broke in again Varenne, his ardor overcoming his +obsequiousness. "These are some of the tales brought back--and reported +privately, I can assure you, gentlemen, now for the first time and to +yourselves. The people of this country are said to be clad in beauteous +raiment, made of skins, of grasses, and of the barks of trees. Their +ornaments are made of pure, yellow gold, and of precious gems which they +pick up from the banks of the streams, as common as pebbles here in +France. The climate is such that all things grow in the most unrivaled +fruitfulness. There is neither too much sun nor too much rain. The lakes +and rivers are vast and beautiful, and the forests are filled with +myriads of strange and sweet-voiced birds. 'Tis said that the dream of +Ponce de Leon hath been realized, and that not only one, but scores of +fountains of youth have been discovered in this great valley. The people +are said never to grow old. Their personal beauty is of surpassing +nature, and their disposition easy and complaisant to the last degree--" + +"My faith, say on!" broke in De la Chaise. "'Tis surely a story of +paradise which you recount." + +"But, listen, gentlemen! The story goes yet farther. As to mines of gold +and silver, 'twas matter of report that such mines are common in all the +valley of the Messasebe. Indeed the whole surface of the earth, in some +parts, is covered with lumps of gold, so that the natives care nothing +for it. The bottoms of the streams, the beaches of the lakes, carry as +many particles of gold as they have pebbles and little stones. As for +silver, none take note of it. 'Tis used as building stone." + +"In the name of Jehovah, is there support for these wonders you have +spoken?" broke in Fraslin the Jew, his eyes shining with suppressed +excitement. + +"Assuredly. Yet I am telling not half of the news which came to my +knowledge this very morning--the story is said to have emanated from the +Palais Royal itself, and therefore, no doubt, is to be traced to this +same unknown queen of the Messasebe. She reports, so it is said, that +beyond the country where L'Huillier secured his cargo of blue earth, +there is a land where grows a most peculiar plant. The meadows and +fields are covered with it, and it is said that the dews of night, which +gather within the petals of these flowers, become, in the course of a +single day, nothing less than a solid diamond stone! From this in time +the leaves drop down, leaving the diamond exposed there, shining and +radiant." + +"Ah, bah!" broke in Fraslin the Jew. "Why believe such babblings? We all +know that the diamond is a product not of the vegetable but of the +mineral world!" + +"So have we known many things," stoutly replied Varenne, "only to find +ourselves frequently mistaken. Now for my part, a diamond is a diamond, +be it born in a flower or broken from a rock. And as for the excellence +of these stones, 'tis rumored that the lady hath abundant proof. 'Tis no +wonder that the natives of the valley of the Messasebe robe themselves +in silks, and that they deck themselves carelessly with precious stones, +as would a peasant of ours with a chain of daisy blossoms. Now, if there +be such wealth as this, is it not easy to see the profit of a bank which +controls the trade with such a province? True, there have been some +discoveries in this valley, but nothing thorough. 'Tis but recent the +thing hath been done thorough." + +The Prince de Conti sat back in his chair and drew a long breath. "If +these things be true," said he, "then this Monsieur L'as is not so bad a +leader to follow." + +"But listen!" exclaimed Varenne once more. "I have not even yet told you +the most important thing, and this is rumor which perhaps your Grace has +caught. 'Tis whispered that the bank of the brothers L'as is within a +fortnight to be changed." + +"What is that?" queried Fraslin quickly. "'Tis not to be abandoned?" + +"By no means. Abandoned would be quite the improper word. 'Tis to be +improved, expanded, increased, magnified! My Lords, there is the +opportunity of a life-time for every one of us here!" + +"Say on, man, say on!" commanded the prince, the covetousness of his +soul shining in his eyes as he leaned forward. + +"I mean to say this," and the spy lowered his voice as he looked +anxiously about. "The regent hath taken a fancy to be chief owner +himself of an enterprise so profitable. In fine, the Banque Générale is +to become the Banque Royale. His Majesty of France, represented by his +Grace the regent, is to become the head banker of France and Europe! +Monsieur L'as is to be retained as director-general of this Banque +Royale. There are to be branches fixed in different cities of the realm, +at Lyons, at Tours, at Amiens, at Rochelle, at Orléans--in fact, all +France is to go upon a different footing." + +The glances of the Prince de Conti and the Austrian met each other. The +Jew drew a long breath as he sat back in his chair, his hands grasping +at the edge of the table. Try as he might, he scarce could keep his chin +from trembling. He licked out his tongue to moisten his lips. + +"There is so much," resumed Varenne, "that 'tis hard to tell it all. But +you must know that this Banque Royale will be still more powerful than +the old one. There will be incorporated with it, not only the Company of +the West, but also the General Company of the Indies, as you know, the +most considerable mercantile enterprise of France. Now listen! Within +the first year the Banque Royale will issue one thousand million livres +in notes. This embodiment of the Compagnie Générale of the Indies will +warrant, as I know by the secret plans of the bank, the issue of notes +amounting to two billion livres. Therefore, as Monsieur de la Chaise +signifies, he who is lucky enough to-day to own a few _actions_ of the +Banque Royale, or even the old _actions_ of Monsieur L'as' bank, which +will be redeemed by its successor, is in a way to gain greater sums than +were ever seen on the face of any investment from the beginning of the +world until to-day! Now, as I was about to ask of you, Monsieur +Fraslin--" + +The speaker turned in his chair to where Fraslin had been but a moment +before. The chair was empty. + +"Our friend stepped to the door but on the instant," said De la Chaise. +"He is perhaps--" + +"That he has," cried Varenne. "He is the first of us to profit! Monsieur +le Prince, in virtue of what I have said to you, if you could favor me +with an advance of a few hundred louis, I could assure my family of +independence. Monsieur le Prince! Monsieur le Prince--" + +Monsieur le Prince, however, was not so far behind the Austrian! Varenne +followed him, tugging at his coat, but Conti shook him off, sprang into +his carriage and was away. + +"To the Place Vendôme!" he cried to his coachman, "and hasten!" + +De la Chaise, aristocratic, handsome and thick-witted, remained alone at +the table, wondering what was the cause of this sudden commotion. +Varenne re-appeared at the door wringing his hands. + +"What is it, my friend?" asked De la Chaise. "Why all this haste? Why +this confusion?" + +"Nothing!" exclaimed Varenne, bitterly, "except that every minute of +this day is worth a million francs. Man, do you know?"--and in his +frenzy he caught De la Chaise by the collar and half shook him out of +his usual calm--"man, can you not see that Jean L'as has brought +revolution into Paris? Oh! This L'as, this devil of a L'as! A thousand +louis, my friend, a hundred, ten--give me but ten louis, and I will make +you rich! A day of miracles is here!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE GREATEST NEED + + +There sprang now with incredible swiftness upward and outward an Aladdin +edifice of illusion. It was as though indeed this genius who had waved +his wand and bidden this fairy palace of chimera to arise, had used for +his material the intangible, iridescent film of bubbles, light as air. +Wider and wider spread the balloon of phantasm. Higher and higher it +floated, on it fixed the eyes of France. And France laughed, and asked +that yet other bubbles should be blown. + +All France was mad, and to its madness there was joined that of all +Europe. The population of Paris doubled. The prices of labor and +commodities trebled in a day. There was now none willing to be called +artisan. Every man was broker in stocks. Bubbles, bubbles, dreams, +fantasies--these were the things all carried in their hands and in their +hearts. These made the object of their desire, of their pursuit +unimaginably passionate and frenzied. + +With a leap from the somberness of the reign of Louis, all France went +to the extreme of levity. Costumes changed. Manners, but late devout, +grew debonair. Morals, once lax, now grew yet more lax. The blaze and +tinsel, the music and the rouge, the wine, the flowing, uncounted +gold--all Paris might have been called a golden brothel of delirious +delight, tenanted by a people utterly gone mad. + +It was a house made of bubbles. Its domes were of bubbles. Its roof was +of bubbles, and its walls. Its windows were of that nacreous film. Even +its foundations had naught in them more substantial than an evanescent +dream of gauze-like web, frail as the spider's house upon the dew-hung +grasses. + +Yet as to this latter, there should be somewhat of qualification. The +wizard who created this fairy structure saw it swiftly grow beyond its +original plan, saw unforeseen results spring from those causes which +were first well within his comprehension. + +Berated by later generations as an adventurer, a schemer, a charlatan, +Law originally deserved anything but such a verdict of his public. +Dishonest he was not, insincere he never was; and as a student of +fundamentals, he was in advance of his age, which is ever to be +accursed. His method was but the forerunner of the modern commercial +system, which is of itself to-day but a tougher faith bubble, as may be +seen in all the changing cycles of finance and trade. His bank was but +a portion of a nobler dream. His system was but one vast belief, one +glorious hope. + +The Company of the West--this it was that made John Law's heart throb. +America--its trade--its future! John Law, dead now and gone--he was the +colossal pioneer! He saw in his dreams what we see to-day in reality; +and no bubble of all the frenzied Paris streets equaled this splendid +dream of a renewed and revived humanity that is a fact to-day. + +But there came to this dreamer and doer, at the very door of his +success, that which arrested him even upon his entering in. There came +the preliminary blow which in a flash his far-seeing mind knew was to +mean ultimate ruin. In a word, the loose principles of a dissolute man +were to ruin France, and with it one who had once saved France from +ruin. + +Philippe of Orléans found it ever difficult to say no to a friend, and +more so if that friend were a woman; and of the latter sort, none had +more than he. Men and women alike, these could all see only this +abundance of money made of paper. What, then, was to prevent the regent, +all powerful, from printing more and yet more of it, and giving it to +his friends? The regent did so. Never were mistresses better paid than +those of Philippe of Orléans, receiving in effect faithlessness in +return for insincerity. + +Philippe of Orléans could not see why, since credit based on specie made +possible a great volume of accepted notes, a credit based on all France +might not warrant an indefinite issue of such notes. He offered his +director-general all the concessions which the crown could give, all the +revenue-producing elements of France--in effect, all France itself, as +security. In return he asked but the small privilege of printing for +himself as much money as he chose and whenever he saw fit! + +The notes of the private bank of Law were an absolute promise to pay a +certain and definite sum, not a changeable or indefinite sum; and Law +made it a part of his published creed that any banker was worthy of +death who issued notes without having the specie wherewith to pay them. +He insisted that the payment should mean specie in the value of the day +on which the note was issued. This item the regent liked little, as +being too irksome for his temper. Was it not of record how Louis, the +Grand Monarque, had twice made certain millions for himself by the +simple process of changing the value of the coin? Dicing, drinking, +amorous Philippe, easy-going, shallow-thinking, truly wert thou better +fitted for a throne than for a banker's chair! + +The royal bank, which the regent himself hastened to foster when he saw +the profits of the first private bank of circulation and discount France +had ever known, issued notes against which Law entered immediately his +firm protest. He saw that their tenor spelled ruin for the whole system +of finance which, at such labor, he had erected. These notes promised to +pay, for instance, fifty livres "in silver coin," not "in coin of the +weight and standard of this day," as had the honester notes of Law's +bank. That is to say, the notes meant nothing sure and nothing definite. +They might be money for a time, but not forever; and this the +director-general was too shrewd a man not to know. + +"But under this issue you shall have all France," said the regent to him +one day, as they renewed their discussion yet again upon this scheme. +"You shall have the farming of the taxes. I will give you all the +foreign trade as monopoly, if you like--will give you the mint--will +give you, in effect, as I have said, all France. But, Monsieur my +director-general, I must have money. It is for that purpose that I +appoint you director-general--because I find you the most remarkable man +in all the world." + +"Your Grace," said Law, "print your notes thus, and print them to such +extent as you wish, and France is again worse than bankrupt! Then, +indeed, you have worse than repudiated the debts of France." + +"Ah bah! _mon drôle_! You are ill to-day. You have a _migraine_, +perhaps? What folly for you to speak thus. France hath swiftly grown so +strong that she can never again be ruined. What ails my magician, my +Prince of Golconda, this morning? France bankrupt! Even were it so, does +that relieve me of this begging of De Prie, of Parabère, and all the +others? My God, Monsieur L'as, they are like leeches! They think me made +of money." + +"And your Grace thinks France made of money." + +"Nay; I only think my director-general is made of money, or can make it +as he likes." + +And this was ever the end of Law's reproaches and his expostulations. +This, then, was to be the end of his glorious enterprises, thought he, +as he sat one morning, staring out of the window when left alone. This +sordid love for money for its own sake--this was to be the limit of an +ambition which dealt in theories, in men, in nations, and not in livres +and louis d'or! Law smiled bitterly. For an instant he was not the +confident man of action and of affairs, not the man claiming with +assurance the perpetual protection of good fortune. He sat there, alone, +feeling nothing but the great human craving for sympathy and trust. A +line of carriages swept back across the street at his window, and +streams of nobles besought entrance at his door. And the man who had +called out all these, the man for whose friendship all Europe +clamored--that man sat with aching heart, longing, craving, begging now +of fortune only the one thing--a friend! + +At last he arose, his face showing lean and haggard. He passed into +another room. + +"Will," said he, "I am at a place where I am dizzy and need a hand. You +know what hand it means for me. Can you go--will you take her, as you +did once before for me, a message? I can not go. I can not venture into +her presence. Will you go? Tell her it is the last time! Tell her it is +the last!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE MIRACLE UNWROUGHT + + +"You do not know my brother, Lady Catharine." + +Thus spoke Will Law, who had been admitted but a half hour since at the +great door of the private hotel where dwelt the Lady Catharine Knollys. + +"'Twould seem, then, 'tis by no fault of his," replied Lady Catharine, +hotly. + +"And is that not well? There are many in Paris who would fain change +places with you, Lady Catharine." + +"Would heaven they might!" exclaimed she. "Would that my various +friends, or the prefect of police, or heaven knows who that may have +spread the news of my acquaintance with your brother, would take me out +of that acquaintance!" + +"They might hold his friendship a high honor," said Will. + +"Oh, an honor! Excellent well comes this distinguished honor. Sirrah, +carriages block my street, filled with those who beseech my introduction +to John Law. I am waylaid if I step abroad, by women--persons of +quality, ladies of the realm, God knoweth what--and they beg of me the +favor of an introduction to John Law! There seems spread, I know not +how, a silly rumor of the child Kate. And though I did scarce more than +name a convent for her attendance, there are now out all manner of +reports of Monsieur John Law's child, and--what do I say--'tis +monstrous! I protest that I have come closer than I care into the public +thoughts with this prodigy, this John Law, whose favor is sought by +every one. Honor!--'tis not less than outrage!" + +"'Tis but argument that my brother is a person not without note." + +"But granted. 'We have seen his carriage at your curb,' they say. I +insist that it is a mistake. 'But we saw him come from your door at such +and such an hour.' If he came, 'twas but for meeting such answer as I +have always given him. Will they never believe--will your brother +himself never believe that, though did he have, as he himself says, all +France in the hollow of his hand, he could be nothing to me? Now I will +make an end to this. I will leave Paris." + +"Madam, you might not be allowed to go." + +"What! I not allowed to go! And what would hinder a Knollys of Banbury +from going when the hour shall arrive?" + +"The regent." + +"And why the regent?" + +"Because of my brother." + +"Your brother!" + +"Assuredly. My brother is to-day king of Paris. If he liked he could +keep you prisoner in Paris. My brother does as he chooses. He could +abolish Parliament to-morrow if he chose. My brother can do all +things--except to win from you, Lady Catharine, one word of kindness, of +respect. Now, then, he has come to the end. He told me to come to you +and bear his word. He told me to say to you that this is the last time +he will importune, the last time that he will implore. Oh, Lady +Catharine! Once before I carried to you a message from John Law--from +John Law, not in distress then more than he is now, even in this hour of +his success." + +Lady Catharine paled as she sank back into her seat. Her white hand +caught at the lace at her throat. Her eyes grew dark in their emotion. + +"Yes, Madam," went on Will Law, tears shining in his own eyes, "'twas I, +an unfaithful messenger, who, by an error, wrought ruin for my brother +and for yourself, even as I did for myself. Madam, hear me! I would be a +better messenger to-day." + +Lady Catharine sat still silent, her bosom heaving, her eyes gone wide +and straining. + +"I have seen my brother weep," said Will, going on impulsively. "I have +seen him walk the floor at night, have heard him cry out to himself. +They call him crazed. Indeed he is crazed. Yet 'tis but for one word +from you." + +"Sir," said Lady Catharine, struggling to gain self-control, and in +spite of herself softened by this appeal, "you speak well." + +"If I do, 'tis but because I am the mouth-piece of a man who all his +life has sought to speak the truth; who has sought--yes, I say to you +even now, Lady Catharine--who has sought always to live the truth. This +I say in spite of all that we both know." + +There came no reply from the woman, who sat still looking at him, not +yet moved by the voice of the proxy as she might then have been by the +voice of that proxy's principal. Vehemently the young man, ordinarily so +timid and diffident, approached her. + +"Look you!" exclaimed he. "If my brother said he could lay France at +your feet, by heaven! he can well-nigh do so now. See! Here are some of +the properties he has lately purchased in the realm of France. The +Marquisat d'Effiat--'tis worth eight hundred thousand livres; the estate +of Rivière--worth nine hundred thousand livres; the estate of +Roissy--worth six hundred and fifty thousand livres; the estates of +Berville, of Fontaine, of Yville, of Gerponville, of Tancarville, of +Guermande--the tale runs near a score! Lately my brother has purchased +the Hôtel Mazarin, and the property at Rue Vivienne, paying for them one +million two hundred thousand livres. He has other city properties, +houses in Paris, estates here and there, running not into the hundreds +of thousands, but into the millions of livres in actual value. Among +these are some of the estates of the greatest nobles of France. Their +value is more than any man can compute. Is this not something? Moreover, +there goes with it all the dignity of the most stupendous personal +success ever made by a single man since the world began. 'Tis all yours, +Lady Catharine. And unless you share it, it has no value to my brother. +I know myself that he will fling it all away, calling it worthless, +since he can not have that greatest fortune which he craves!" + +"Sirrah, I have entertained much speech of both yourself and your +brother, because I would not seem ungracious nor forgetful. Yet this +paying of court by means of figures, by virtue of lists of estates--do +you not know how ineffectual this must seem?" + +"If you could but understand!" cried Will. "If you could but believe +that there is none on earth values these less than my brother. Under +all this he has yet greater dreams. His ambition is to awaken an old +world and to build a new one. By heaven! Lady Catharine, I am asked to +speak for my brother, and so I shall! These are his ambitions. First of +all, Lady Catharine, you. Second, America. Third, a people for +America--a people who may hope! Oh, I admit all the folly of his life. +He played deep, yet 'twas but to forget you. He drank, but 'twas to +forget you. Foolish he was, as are all men. Now he succeeds, and finds +he can not forget you. I have told you his ambitions, Madam, and though +others may never know nor acknowledge them, you, at least, must do so. +And I beg you to remember, Madam, that of all his ambitions, 'twas you, +Lady Catharine, your favor, your kindness, your mercy, that made his +first and chief desire." + +"As for that," said the woman, somewhat scornfully, "if you please, I +had rather I received my protestations direct; and your brother knows I +forbid him further protestations. He has, it is true, raised some +considerable noise by way of enterprises. That I might know, even did I +not see this horde of dukes and duchesses and princes of the blood, +clamoring for the recognition of even his remotest friends. I know, +too, that he is accepted as a hero by the people." + +"And well he may be. Coachmen and valets have liveries of their own +these days. Servants now eat from plate, and clerks have their own +coaches. Paris is packed with people, and, look you, they are people no +longer clamoring for bread. Who has done this? Why, my brother, John Law +of Lauriston, Lady Catharine, who loves you, and loves you dearly." + +The old wrinkle of perplexity gathered between the brows of the woman +before him. Her face was clouded, the changeful eyes now deep covered by +their lids. + +Lacking the precise word for that crucial moment, Will Law broke further +on into material details. "To be explicit, as I have said," resumed he, +"everything seems to center about my brother, the director-general of +finance. He took the old notes of the government, worth not half their +face, and in a week made them treble their face value. The king owes him +over one hundred million livres to-day. My brother has taken over the +farming of the royal taxes. And now he forms a little Company of the +Indies; and to this he adds the charter of the Senegal Company. Not +content, he adds the entire trade of the Indies, of China and the South +Seas. He has been given the privilege of the royal farming of tobacco, +for which he pays the king the little trifle of two hundred million +livres, and assures to the king certain interest moneys, which, I need +not say, the king will actually obtain. In addition to these things, he +has lately been given the mint of France. The whole coinage of the realm +has been made over to this Company of the Indies. My brother pays the +king fifty million livres for this privilege, and this he will do within +fifteen months. All France is indeed in the hands of my brother. Now, +call John Law an adventurer, a gambler, if you will, and if you can; but +at least admit that he has given life and hope to the poor of France, +that he has given back to the king a people which was despoiled and +ruined by the former king. He has trebled the trade of France, he has +saved her honor, and opened to her the avenues of a new world. Are these +things nothing? They have all been done by my brother, this man whom you +believe incapable of faith and constancy. Good God! It surely seems that +he has at least been constant to himself!" + +"Oh, I hear talk of it all. I hear that a share in the new company +promises dividends of two hundred livres. I hear talk of shares and +'sub-shares,' called 'mothers,' and 'daughters,' and 'granddaughters,' +and I know not what. It seems as though half the coin were divided into +centimes, and as though each centime had been planted by your brother +and had grown to be worth a thousand pounds. I admit somewhat of +knowledge of these miracles." + +"True, Lady Catharine. Can there not be one miracle more?" + +Lady Catharine Knollys bent her face forward upon her hands, unhappiness +in every gesture. + +"Sir," said she, "it grieves my heart to say it; yet this answer you +must take to your brother, John Law. That miracle hath not yet been +wrought which can give us back the past again." + +"This," said Will Law, sadly, "is this all the message I may take?" + +"It is all." + +"Though it is the last?" + +"It is the last." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE LITTLE SUPPER OF THE REGENT + + +Paris, city of delights, Paris drunk with gold, mad with the delirium of +excesses, Paris with no aim except joy, no method but extravagance, held +within her gilded gates one citadel of sensuality which remained ever an +object of mystery, a source of curiosity even in that dissipated and +pleasure-sated city. In the Palais Royal, back of the regally beautiful +gardens, back of the noble rows of trees, beyond the gates of iron and +the guards in uniform, lived France's regent, in a city of libertines +the prince of libertines. In a city where there were more mistresses +than wives, he it was who led the list of the licentious. In a city of +unregulated vice and yet of exquisitely ordered taste, he it was who +accorded to himself daily pleasures which were admittedly beyond +approach. How unspeakably unbridled, how delightfully wicked, how +temptingly ingenious in their features the little suppers of the regent +might be--these were matters of curious interest to all, of intimate +knowledge to but few. + +It was to one of these famous yet mysterious gatherings that the regent +of France had invited the master of that great and glittering bubble +house, wherein dwelt so insecurely the affairs of France. John Law, +director-general of the finances, controller of the Company of the +Indies, was chosen by Philippe of Orléans for a position not granted to +the crafty Dubois or to the shrewd D'Argenson, the last of that strange +trinity who made his council. John Law, gallant, graceful, owner of a +reputation as wit and beau scarce behind that of his sudden fame as +financier, was admitted not only to the business affairs of the gay +duke, but to his pleasures as well. To him and his brother Will, still +associated in large measure in the stupendous operations of the +director-general, there came the invitation of the regent, practically +the command of the king, to join the regent after the opera for a little +supper at the Palais Royal. + +Law would have excused himself from this unsought honor. "Your Grace +will observe," said he, "that my time is occupied to the full. The +people scarcely suffer me to rest at night. Perhaps your Grace might not +care for company so dull as mine." + +"Fie! my friend, my very good friend," replied Philippe. "Have you +become _dévot_? Whence this sudden change? Consider; 'tis no hardship to +meet such ladies as Madame de Sabran, or Madame de Prie--designer +though I fear De Prie is for the domestic felicity of the youthful +king--nor indeed my good friend, La Parabère, somewhat pale and pensive +though she groweth. And what shall I say for Madame de Tencin, the +_spirituelle_, who is to be with us; or Madame de Caylus, niece of +Maintenon, but the very opposite of Maintenon in every possible way? +Moreover, we are promised the attendance of Mademoiselle Aïssé. She hath +become devout of late, and thinks it a sin even to powder her hair, but +Aïssé devout is none the less Aïssé the beautiful." + +"Surely your Grace hath never lacked in excellent taste, and that is the +talk of Paris," replied Law. + +"Oh, well, long training bringeth perfection in due time," replied +Philippe of Orléans, composedly, it having no ill effect with him to +call attention to his numerous intrigues. "It should hardly be called a +poor privilege, after all, to witness the results of that highly +cultivated taste, as it shall be displayed this evening, not to mention +the privilege you will have of meeting one or two other gentlemen; and +lastly, of course, myself, if you be not tired of such company." + +"Your Grace," replied Law, "you both honor and flatter me." + +"Why, sir, you speak as if this were a new experience for you. Now, in +the days--" + +"'Tis true; but of late years I have grown grave in the cares of state, +as your Grace may know." + +"And most efficiently," replied the regent. "But stay! I have kept until +the last my main attraction. You shall witness there, I give you my +word, the making public of the secret of the fair unknown who is reputed +to have been especially kind to Philippe of Orléans for these some +months past. Join us at the little enterprise, my friend, and you shall +see, I promise you, the most beautiful woman in Paris, crowned with the +greatest gem of all the world. The regent's diamond, that great gem +which you have made possible for France, shall, for the first time, and +for one evening at least, adorn the forehead of the regent's queen of +beauty!" + +As the gay words of the regent fell upon his ears, there came into Law's +heart a curious tension, a presentiment, a feeling as though some great +and curious thing were about to happen. Yet ever the challenge of danger +was one to draw him forward, not to hold him back. If for a moment he +had hesitated, his mind was now suddenly resolved. + +"Your Grace," said he, "your wish is for me command, and certainly in +this instance is peculiarly agreeable." + +"As I thought," replied the regent. "Had you hesitated, I should have +called your attention to the fact that the table of the Palais Royal is +considered to possess somewhat of character. The Vicomte de Béchamel is +at the very zenith of his genius, and he daily produces dishes such as +all Paris has not ever dreamed. Moreover, we have been fortunate in some +recent additions of most excellent _vin d'Ai_. I make no doubt, upon the +whole, we shall find somewhat with which to occupy ourselves." + +Thus it came about that, upon that evening, there gathered at the +entrance of the Palais Royal, after an evening with Lecouvreur at the +Théâtre Français, some scattered groups of persons evidently possessing +consequence. The chairs of others, from more distant locations, +threading their way through the narrow, dark and unlighted streets of +the old, crude capital of France, brought their passengers in time to a +scene far different from that of the gloomy streets. + +The little supper of the regent, arranged in the private _salle_, whose +decorations had been devised for the special purpose, was more +entrancing than even the glitter of the mimic world of the Théâtre +Français. There extended down the center of the room, though filling but +a small portion of its vast extent, the grand table provided for the +banquet, a reach of snowy linen, broken at the upper end by the arm of +an abbreviated cross. At each end of this cross-arm stood magnificent +candelabra, repeated at intervals along the greater extension of the +board. Noble epergnes, filled with the choicest plants, found their +reflections in plates of glass cunningly inlaid here and there upon the +surface of the table. Vast mirrors, framed in wreaths of roses and +surmounted by little laughing cupids, gleamed in the walls of the room, +and in the faces of these mirrors were reflected the beams of the +many-colored tapers, carried in brackets of engraved gold and silver and +many-colored glasses. The ceiling of the room was a soft mass of silken +draperies, depending edgewise from above, thousands of yards of the most +expensive fabrics of the world. From these, as they were gently swayed +by the breath of invisible fans, there floated delicious, languorous +perfumes, intoxicating to the senses. On any hand within the great room, +removed at some distance from the table, were rich, luxurious couches +and divans. + +As one trod within the door of this temple of the senses, surely it must +have seemed to him that he had come into another world, which at first +glance might have appeared to be one of an unrighteous ease, an +unprincipled enjoyment and an unmanly abandonment to embowered vice. +Yet here it was that Philippe of Orléans, ruler of France, spent those +hours most dear to him. If he gave thought to affairs of state during +the day it was but that these affairs of state might give to him the +means to indulge fancies of his own. Alike shrewd and easy, alike +haughty and sensuous, here it was that Philippe held his real court. + +These young gentlemen of France, these _roués_ who have come to meet +Philippe at his little supper--how different from the same beings under +the rule of the Grand Monarque. Their coats are no longer dark in hue. +Their silks and velvets have blossomed out, even as Paris has blossomed +since the death of Louis the Grand. Jabots of lace are shown in full +abundance, and so far from the abolishment of jewels from their garb, +rubies, sapphires, diamonds sparkle everywhere, from the clasp of the +high ruffles of the neck to the buckles of the red-heeled shoes. Powder +sparkles on the head coverings of these new gallants of France. They +step daintily, yet not ungracefully, into this brilliantly-lighted room, +these creatures, gracious and resplendent, sparkling, painted, +ephemeral, not unsuited to the place and hour. + +For the ladies, witness the attire, for instance, of that Madame de +Tencin, the wonder of the wits of Paris. A full blue costume, with +pannier more than five yards in circumference, under a skirt of silver +gauze, trimmed with golden gauze and pink crape, and a train lying six +yards upon the floor, showing silver embroideries with white roses. The +sleeves are half-draped, as is the skirt, and each caught up with +diamonds, showing folds lying above and below the silk underneath. +Madame wears a necklace of rubies and of diamonds, and above the pannier +a belt of diamonds and rubies. Her hair is dressed, following the mental +habit of madame, in the Greek style, and abundantly trimmed with roses +and gems and bits of silver gauze. There is a little crown upon the top +of madame's coiffure. Her bodice, cut sufficiently low, is seen to be of +light silken weave. From her hair depends a veil of light gauze covered +with gold spangles, and it is secured upon the left side by a hand's +grasp of pink and white feathers, surmounted by a magnificent heron +plume of long and silken whiteness. The gloves of madame are white silk, +and so also, as she is not reluctant to advise, are her stockings, +picked out with pink and silver clocks. Her shoes, made by the +celebrated _cordonnier_, Raveneau, show heels three inches in height. As +madame enters she casts aside the camlet coat which has covered her +costume. She sweeps back the veil, endangering its confining clasp of +plumes. Madame makes a deliberate and open inspection of her face in her +little looking-glass to discover whether her _mouches_ are well placed. +She carefully arranges the patch upon the middle of her cheek. She would +be "gallant" to-night, would lay aside things _spirituelle_. She twirls +carelessly her fan, a creation of ivory and mother of pearl, elaborately +carved, tipped with gold and silver and set with precious stones. + +Close at the elbow of Madame de Tencin steps a figure of different type, +a woman not accustomed to please by brilliance of mind or vivacity of +speech, but by sheer femininity of face and form. Tall, slender, yet +with figure divinely proportioned, this beautiful girl, Haideé, or +Mademoiselle Aïssé, reputed to be of Turkish or Circassian birth, and +possessed of a history as strange as her own personality is attractive, +would seem certainly as pure as angel of the skies. Not so would say the +gossips of Paris, who whisper that mademoiselle is not happy from her +_chevalier_--who speak of a certain visit to England, and a little child +born across seas and not acknowledged by its parent. Aïssé, the devout, +the beautiful, is no better than others of her sex in this gay city. +True, she has abandoned all artificial aids to the complexion and +appears distinct among her flattering rivals, the clear olive of her +skin showing in strange contrast to the heightened colors of her +sisters. Yet Aïssé, the toast of Europe and the text of poets, proves +herself not behind the others in the loose gaiety of this occasion. + +And there came others: Madame de Prie, later to hold such intimate +relations with the fortunes of France in the selection of a future queen +for the boy king; De Sabran, plain, gracious and good-natured; Parabère, +of delicately oval face, of tiny mouth, of thin high nose and large +expressive eyes, her soft hair twined with a deep flushed rose, and over +her corsage drooping a continuous garland of magnificent flowers. Also +Caylus the wit, Caylus the friend of Peter the Great, by duty and by +devotion a _religieuse_, but by thought and training a gay woman of the +world--all these butterflies of the bubble house of Paris came swimming +in as by right upon this exotic air. + +And all of these, as they advanced into the room, paused as they met, +coming from the head of the apartment, the imposing figure of their +host. Philippe of Orléans, his powdered wig drawn closely into a +half-bag at the nape of the neck, his full eye shining with merriment +and good nature, his soft, yet not unmanly figure appearing to good +advantage in his well-chosen garments, advances with a certain dignity +to meet his guests. He is garbed in a coat made of watered silk, its +straight collar faced with dark-green material edged with gold. A green +and gold shoulder knot sets off the garment, which is provided with +large opal buttons set in brilliants, this same adornment appearing on +the hilt of his sword, which he lays aside as he approaches. From the +sides of his wig depend two carefully-arranged locks, dusted with a +tan-colored powder. His small-clothes, of lighter hue than the coat, +display fitly the proportions of his lower limbs. The high-heeled shoes +blaze with the glare of reflected lights as the diamonds change their +angles during the calm advance down the room. + +"Welcome, my very dear ladies," exclaimed Philippe, advancing to the +head of the board and at once setting all at ease, if any there needed +such encouragement, by the grace and good feeling of his air. "You do me +much honor, ladies. If I be not careful, the fair Adrienne will become +jealous, since I fear you have deserted the pomp of the play full early +for the table of Philippe. Ladies, as you know, I am your devoted slave. +Myself and the Vicomte de Béchamel have labored, seriously labored, for +your welfare this day. I promise you something of the results of those +painstaking efforts, which we both hope will not disappoint you. +Meantime, that the moments may not lag, let me recommend, if I am +allowed, this new vintage of Ai, which Béchamel advises me we have +never yet surpassed in all our efforts. Madame de Tencin, let me beg of +you to be seated close to my arm. Not upon this side, Mademoiselle +Haidée, if you please, for I have been wheedled into promising that +station this night to another. Who is it to be, my dear Caylus? Ah, that +is my secret! Presently we shall see. Have I not promised you an +occasion this evening? And did Philippe ever fail in his endeavors to +please? At least, did he ever cease to strive to please his angels? Now, +my children, accept the blessing of your father Philippe, your friend, +who, though years may multiply upon him, retains in his heart, none the +less, for each and all of you, those sentiments of passion and of +admiration which constitute for him his dearest memories! Ladies, I pray +you be seated. I pray you tarry not too long before proving the judgment +of Béchamel in regard to this new vintage of Ai." + +"Ah, your Grace," exclaimed De Tencin, "were it not Philippe of Orléans, +we women might not be apt to sit in peace together. Yet, as we have +earlier proved your hospitality, we may perhaps not scruple to +continue." + +Philippe smiled blandly. The remark was not ill-fitted to the actual +case. Though the regent counted his sweethearts by scores, he dismissed +the one with the same air of interest as he welcomed the other, and +indeed ended by retaining all as his friends. + +"Madame de Tencin, in admiration there can be no degrees," said he. "In +love there can be no rank." + +"Why, then, do you place as your chief guest this other, this unknown?" +pouted Mademoiselle Aïssé, as she seated herself, turning upon her host +the radiance of her large, dark eyes. "Is this stranger, then, so +passing fair?" + +"Not so fair as you, my lovely Haidée, that I may swear, and safely, +since she is not yet present. Yet I announce to you that she is _très +intéressante_, my unknown queen of beauty, my _belle sauvage_ from +America. But see! Here she comes. 'Tis time for her to appear, and not +keep our guests in waiting." + +There sounded at the back of the great hall the tinkle of a little bell +of some soft metal. It approached, and with it the sweeping stir of +heavy silken garb. The door opened, admitting a still greater blaze of +light, and there swept into the hall, as though swimming upon the flood +of this added brilliance, a figure striking enough to arouse attention +even at that time and place, even among the beauties of the court of +France. There advanced, calm and stately, with the gliding ease of a +perfect carriage, the figure of a woman, slender, with full bright eyes +and somber hair--so much might be seen at a glance. Yet the newcomer +left somewhat of query in the mind of womankind accustomed to view in +detail any costume. + +The stranger was enveloped in a wide and undefining garment, a sweeping +robe fit for any duchess of the realm, whose flowing folds showed a +magnificent tissue of silver embroidery covered with golden flowers, +below the plum-color and green. The high corsage of the white robe +covered the bosom fully, and was caught at the throat with a bunch of +blazing jewels. Under these soft draperies, tinkling in time with the +movements of an otherwise noiseless tread, there sounded ever the faint +note of the little bell. At the toe of shoes otherwise silent, there +peeped in and out the flash of diamonds, and in the dark masses of her +hair, shifting as she trod beneath each new sconce in turn, and catching +more and more brilliance as she advanced, there smoldered the flame of a +mass of scintillating gems. A queen's raiment was that of this unknown +beauty, and she herself might have been a queen as she swept down the +great hall, scornfully careless of the eyes of those other beauties. + +She stepped to the place at the regent's right hand, with head high and +eyes undrooping. For a dramatic instant she paused, as though in the +rehearsal of a part--a part of which it might be said that the regent +was not alone the author. This triumph of woman over other women, this +triumph of vice over other vice, of effrontery over effrontery +akin--this could not have been so planned and executed by any but a +woman. One another these beauties might tolerate, knowing one another's +frailties as they did; yet the elegance, the disdain, the indifference +of this newcomer--this they could not support. Hatred sat in the bosom +of each woman there as she swept her courtesy to the new guest of the +regent, who took her place as of right at the head of the board and near +the regent's arm. + +"Our gentlemen are somewhat late this evening," exclaimed Philippe. +"'Tis too bad the Abbé Dubois could not be with us to-night to +administer clerical consolation." + +"Ah! _le drôle_ Dubois!" exclaimed Madame de Tencin. + +"And that vagabond, the Due de Richelieu--but we may not wait. Again +ladies, the glasses, or Béchamel will be aggrieved. And finally, though +I perceive most of you have graciously unmasked, let me say that the +moment has now arrived when we make plain all secrets." + +He turned his gaze upon the woman at his right. As though at a signal, +she half rose, unclasped the circlet of gems at her throat, and swept +back across the arm of her chair the soft garment which enveloped her. + +A sigh, a long breath of amazement broke from those other dames of +Paris. Not one of them but was sated with the blaze of diamonds, the +rich, red light of rubies and the fathomless radiance of sapphires. +Silks and satins and cloth of gold and silver had few novelties for +them. The costumers of Paris, center of the world of art, even in those +times of unrivaled extravagance and unbridled self-gratification, held +no new surprise for these beauties, possessed so long of all that their +imagination required or that princely liberality could supply. Yet here +indeed was a surprise. + +As she stood at the regent's right, calmly and composedly looking down +the long board as she arranged her drapery before reseating herself, +this new favorite of the regent appeared in the full costume of the +American native! A long soft tunic of exquisitely dressed white leather +fell below her hips, intricately embroidered in the native bead work of +America, and stained with great blotches of colors done in the quills of +the porcupine--heavy reds, sprightly yellows, and deep blues. Down the +seams of this loose-fitting tunic depended little waving fringes. The +belt which caught it at the waist was wrought likewise in beads. Beneath +the level of the table, as she stood, the inquiring eyes might not so +clearly see; yet the white leggings, fringed and beaded, and covered by +a sweeping blanket of snowy buckskin, might have been seen to finish at +the ankle and blend in texture and ornamentation with tiny shoes, which +covered the smallest foot yet seen in Paris--shoes at the side of which +there dangled the little bells of metal whose tones had told her coming. + +Here and there upon the bead work of the native artist, who had made +this attire at the expense of so much patient effort, there blazed the +changing rays of real gems, diamonds, rubies, emeralds--every stone +known as precious. As the full bosom of the scornful beauty rose and +fell there were cast about in sprays of light the reflections of these +gems. Bracelets of dull, beaten metal hung about her wrists. In her hair +were ornaments of some dull blue stone. Barbaric, beautiful, +fascinating, savage she surely seemed as she met unruffled the startled +gaze of these beautiful women of the court, who never, at even the most +fanciful _bal masque_ in all Paris, had seen costume like to this. + +"Ladies, _la voilà_!" spoke the regent. "_Ma belle sauvage_!" + +The newcomer swept a careless courtesy as she took her seat. As yet she +had spoken no word. The door at the lower end of the hall opened. + +"His Grace le Duc de Richelieu," announced the attendant, who stood +beneath the board. + +There advanced into the room, with slouchy, ill-bred carriage, a young +man whose sole reputation was that of being the greatest rake in Paris, +the Duc de Richelieu, half-gamin, half-nobleman, who counted more +victims among titled ladies than he had fingers on his hands, whose sole +concern of living was to plan some new impassioned avowal, some new and +pitiless abandonment. This creature, meeting the salute of the regent, +and catching at the same moment a view of the regent's guest, found eyes +for nothing else, and stood boldly gazing at the face of her whom Paris +knew for the first time and under no more definite title than that of +"_Belle Sauvage_." + +"Pray you, be seated, Monsieur le Duc," said the regent, calmly, and the +latter was wise enough to comply. + +"Your Grace," said Madame de Sabran, "was it not understood that we were +to meet to-night none less than the wizard, Monsieur L'as?" + +"Monsieur L'as will be with us, and his brother," replied Philippe. +"But now I ask you to bear witness to the shrewdness of your friend +Philippe in entertainment. I bethought me that, as we were to have with +us the master of the Messasebe, it were well to have with us also the +typified genius of that same Messasebe. 'Twas but a little conceit of my +own. And why--_mon enfant_, what is it to you? What do you know of our +controller of finance?" + +The face of the woman at his right had suddenly gone white with a pallor +visible even beneath its rouge and patches. She half turned, as though +to push back her chair from the board, would have arisen, would have +spoken perhaps; yet act and gesture were at the time unnoticed. + +"His Excellency, Monsieur Jean L'as, _le contrôleur-général_," came the +soft tones of the attendant near the door. "Monsieur Guillaume L'as, +brother of the _contrôleur-général_." + +The eyes of all were turned toward the door. Every petted belle of +Paris there assembled shifted bodily in her seat, turning her gaze upon +that man whose reputation was the talk of all the realm of France. + +There appeared now the tall, erect and vigorous form of a man owning a +superb physical beauty. Powerful, yet not too heavy for ease, his figure +retained that elasticity and grace which had won him favor in more than +one court of Europe. He himself might have been king as he advanced +steadily up the brilliantly-illuminated room. His costume, simply made, +yet of the richest materials of the time; his wig, highly powdered +though of modest proportions; his every item of apparel appeared alike +of great simplicity and barren of pretentiousness. As much might be said +for the garb of his brother, who stepped close behind him, a figure less +self-contained than that of the man who now occupied the absorbed +attention of the public mind, even as he now filled the eager eyes of +those who turned to greet his entrance. + +"Ah, Monsieur L'as, Monsieur L'as!" exclaimed Philippe of Orléans, +stepping forward to welcome him and taking the hand of Law in both his +own. "You are welcome, you are very welcome indeed. The soup will be +with us presently, and the wine of Ai is with us now. You and your +brother are with us; so all at last is well. These ladies are, as I +believe, all within your acquaintance. You have been present at the +_salon_ of Madame de Tencin. You know her Grace the Duchesse de Falari, +recently Madame d'Artague? Mademoiselle de Caylus you know very well, +and of course also Mademoiselle Aïssé, _la belle Circassienne_--But +what? _Diable_! Have you too gone mad? Come, is the sight of my guest +too much for you also, Monsieur L'as?" + +There was irritation in the tone with which the regent uttered this +protest, yet he continued. + +"Monsieur L'as, 'tis but a little surprise I had planned for you. +Mademoiselle, my princess of the Messasebe, let me present Monsieur Jean +L'as, king of the Messasebe, and hence your sovereign! This is my fair +unknown, whose face I have promised you should see to-night--this, +Monsieur L'as, is my princess, the one whom I have seen fit to honor +this evening by the wearing of the chief gem of France." + +The regent fumbled for an instant at his fob. He stepped to the side of +the faltering figure which stood arrayed in all its savage finery. One +movement, and upon the dark locks which fell about her brow there blazed +the unspeakable fires of a stone whose magnificence brought forth +exclamations of awe from every person present. + +"See!" cried Philippe of Orléans. "'Twas on the advice and by the aid of +Monsieur L'as that I secured the gem, whose like is not known in all the +world. 'Tis chief of the crown jewels of the realm of France, this +stone, now to be known as the regent's diamond. And now, as regent of +France and master for a day of her jewels, I place this gem upon the +brow of her who for this night is to be your queen of beauty!" + +The wine of Ai had already done part of its work. There were brightened +eyes, easy gestures and ready compliance as the guests arose to quaff +the toast to this new queen. + +As for the queen herself, she stood faltering, her eyes averted, her +limbs trembling. John Law, tall, calm, self-possessed, did not take his +seat, but stood with set, fixed face, gazing at the woman who held the +place of honor at the table of the regent. + +"Come! Come!" cried the latter, testily, his wine working in his brain. +"Why stand you there, Monsieur L'as, gazing as though spellbound? +Salute, sir, as I do, the chief gem of France, and her who is most fit +to wear it!" + +John Law stood, as though he had not heard him speak. There swept +through the softly brilliant air, over the flash and glitter of the +great banquet board, across the little group which stood about it, a +sudden sense of a strange, tense, unfamiliar situation. There came to +all a presentiment of some unusual thing about to happen. Instinctively +the hands paused, even as they raised the bright and brimming glasses. +The eyes of all turned from one to the other, from the stern-faced man +to the woman decked in barbaric finery, who now stood trembling, +drooping, at the head of the table. + +Law for a moment removed his gaze from the face of the regent's guest. +He flicked lightly at the deep cuff of lace which hung about his hands. +"Your Grace is not far wrong," said he. "I regret that you do not have +your way in planning for me a surprise. Yet I must say to you, that I +have already met this lady." + +"What?" cried the regent. "You have met her? Impossible! Incredible! +How, Monsieur L'as? We will admit you wizard enough, and owner of the +philosopher's stone--owner of anything you like, except this secret of +mine own. According to mademoiselle's own words, it would have been +impossible." + +"None the less, what I have said is true," said John Law, calmly, his +voice even and well-modulated, vibrating a little, yet showing no trace +of anger nor of emotional uncontrol. + +"But I tell you it could not be!" again exclaimed the regent. + +"No, it is impossible," broke in the young Duc de Richelieu. "I would +swear that had such beauty ever set foot in Paris before now, the news +would so have spread that all France had been at her feet." + +Law looked at the impudent youth with a gaze that seemed to pass +through him, seeing him not. Then suddenly this scene and its +significance, its ultimate meaning seemed to take instant hold upon him. +He could feel rising within his soul a flood of irresistible emotions. +All at once his anger, heritage of an impetuous youth, blazed up hot and +furious. He trod a step farther forward, after his fashion advancing +close to that which threatened him. + +"This lady, your Grace," said he, "has been known to me for years. Mary +Connynge, what do you masquerading here?" + +A sudden silence fell, a silence broken at length by the voice of the +regent himself. + +"Surely, Monsieur L'as," said Philippe, "surely we must accept your +statements. But Monsieur must remember that this is the table of the +regent, that these are the friends of the regent. We bring no +recollections here which shall cut short the joy of any person. Sir, I +would not reprimand you, but I must beg that you be seated and be calm!" + +Yet the imperious nature of the other brooked not even so pointed a +rebuke. As though he had not heard, Law stepped yet a pace nearer to the +woman, upon whom he now bent the blaze of his angered eyes. He looked +neither to right nor left, but visually commanded the woman until in +turn her eyes sought his own. + +"This woman, your Grace," said Law, at length, "was for some time in +effect my wife. This I do not offer as matter of interest. What I would +say to your Grace is this--she was also my slave!" + +"Sirrah!" cried the regent. + +"Ah, Dame!" exclaimed the Duc de Richelieu. And even from the women +about there came little murmurs of expostulation. Indeed there might +have been pity, even in this assemblage, for the agony now visible upon +the brow of Mary Connynge. + +"Monsieur, the wine has turned your head," said the regent scornfully. +"You boast!" + +"I boast of nothing," cried Law, savagely, his voice now ringing with a +tone none present had ever known it to assume. "I say to you again, this +woman was my slave, and that she will again do as I shall choose. Your +Grace, she would come and wipe the dust from my shoes if I should +command it! She would kneel at my feet, and beg of me, if I should +command it! Shall I prove this, your Grace?" + +"Oh, assuredly!" replied the regent, with a sarcasm which now seemed his +only relief. "Assuredly, if Monsieur L'as should please. We here in +Paris are quite his humble servants." + +Law said nothing. He stood with his biting blue eyes still fixed upon +Mary Connynge, whose own eyes faltered, trying their utmost to escape +from his; whose fingers, resting just lightly on the snowy Hollands of +the table cloth, moved tremulously; whose limbs appeared ready to sink +beneath her. + +"Come, then, Mary Connynge!" cried Law at last, his teeth setting +savagely together. "Come, then, traitress and slave, and kneel before +me, as you did once before!" + +Then there ensued a strange and horrible spectacle. A hush as of death +fell upon the group. Mary Connynge, trembling, halting, yet always +advancing, did indeed as her master had bidden! She passed from the head +of the table, back of the chair of the regent, who stood gazing with +horror in his eyes; she passed the chair of Aïssé, near which Law now +stood; she paused in front of him, and stood as though in a dream. Her +knees would have indeed sunk beneath her. She drew from her bosom a +silken kerchief, as though she would indeed have performed the ignoble +service which had been threatened for her. There came neither voice nor +motion to those who saw this thing. The sheer force of one strong +nature, terrible in the intensity of one supreme moment--this might have +been the spell which commanded at the table of the regent. Yet this did +occur. + +There came a sound which broke the silence, which caused all to start as +with swift relief. A sob, short, dry, hard, as from one whose heart is +broken, came from beyond the place where Law stood facing the trembling +woman. The eyes of all turned upon Will Law, from whom had burst this +irrepressible exclamation of agony. Will Law, as one grown swiftly old, +haggard, broken-down, stood gazing in wide-eyed horror at this woman, so +humiliated in the presence of all in this brilliantly-lighted hall; +before the blazing mirrors which should have reflected back naught but +beauty and joy; under the twining roses, which should have been the +signs manual of undying love; under the smiling cherubs, which should +have typified the deities of happy love. Will Law, too, had loved. +Perhaps still he loved. + +This sharp sound served to break also the spell under which Law himself +seemed held. He cast aloft his arms, as in remorse or in despair. Then +he extended a hand to the woman who would have sunk before him. + +"God forgive me! Madam," he cried. "I had forgot. Savage indeed you are +and have been, but 'tis not for me to treat you brutally." + +"Your Grace," said he, turning toward the regent, "I crave your +pardon. Our explanations shall reach you on the morrow." + +[Illustration] + +He turned, and taking his brother by the arm, advanced toward the door +at which he had recently entered, pausing not to look behind him. Had +his eye been more curious as he and his half-fainting brother bowed +before passing through the door, it might have seen that which he must +long have borne in memory. + +Mary Connynge, trembling, pallid, utterly broken, never found her way +back to the right hand of the regent. She half stumbled into a chair +near the foot of the table. Her bosom fluttered at the base of the +throat. Half blindly she reached out her hand toward a glass of wine +which stood near by, foaming and sparkling, its gem-like drops of keen +pungency swimming continuously up to the surface. Her hand caught at the +slender stem of the glass. Leaning upon her left arm, she half rose as +though to put it to her lips. Her head moved, as though she would follow +the retreating figure of the man who had thus scornfully used her. All +at once, slowly, and then with a sudden crash, she sank down upon her +seat and fell forward across the table. The fragile glass snapped in her +fingers. The amber wine rushed in swift flood across the linen. In the +broadening stain there fell and lay blazing the great gem of France. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE NEWS + + +"Lady Kitty! Lady Kitty! Have you heard the news?" + +Thus, breathless, the Countess of Warrington, Lady Catharine's English +neighbor in exile, who burst into the drawing-room early in the morning, +not waiting for announcement of her presence. + +"Nay, not yet, my dear," said Lady Catharine, advancing and embracing +her. "What is it, pray? Has the poodle swallowed a bone, or the baby +perhaps cut another tooth? And, forsooth, how is the little one?" + +Lady Emily Warrington, slender, elegant, well clad, and for the most +part languorously calm, was in a state of excitement quite without her +customary _aplomb_. She sank into a seat, fanning herself with a vigor +which threatened ruin to the precious slats of a fan which bore the +handiwork of Watteau. + +"The streets are full of it," said she. "Have you not heard, really?" + +"I must say, not yet. But what is it?" + +"Why, the quarrel between the regent and his director-general, Mr. +Law." + +"No, I have not heard of it." Lady Catharine sought refuge behind her +own fan. "But tell me" she continued. + +"But that is not all. 'Twas the reason for the quarrel. Paris is all +agog. 'Twas about a woman!" + +"You mean--there was--a woman?" + +"Yes, it all happened last night, at the Palais Royal. The woman is +dead--died last night. 'Tis said she fell in a fit at the very +table--'twas at a little supper given by the regent--and that when they +came to her she was quite dead." + +"But Mr. Law--" + +"'Twas he that killed her!" + +"Good God! What mean you?" cried Lady Catharine, her own face blanching +behind her protecting fan. The blood swept back upon her heart, leaving +her cold as a statue. + +"Why," continued the caller, in her own excitement to tell the news +scarce noting what went on before her, "it seems that this mysterious +beauty of the regent's, of whom there has been so much talk, proved to +be none other than a former mistress of this same Mr. Law, who is +reputed to have been somewhat given to that sort of thing, though of +late monstrous virtuous, for some cause or other. Mr. Law came suddenly +upon her at the table of the regent, arrayed in some kind of savage +finery--for 'twas in fashion a mask that evening, as you must know. And +what doth my director-general do, so high and mighty? Why, in spite of +the regent and in spite of all those present, he upbraids her, taunts +her, reviles her, demanding that she fall on her knees before him, as it +seems indeed she would have done--as, forsooth, half the dames of Paris +would do to-day! Then, all of a sudden, my Lord Director changes, and he +craves pardon of the woman and of the regent, and so stalks off and +leaves the room! And now then the poor creature walks to the table, +would lift a glass of wine, and so--'tis over! 'Twas like a play! Indeed +all Paris is like a play nowadays. Of course you know the rest." + +A gesture of negative came from the hand that lay in Lady Catharine's +lap. The busy gossip went on. + +"The regent, be sure, was angry enough at this cheapening of his own +wares before all, and perhaps 'tis true he had a fancy for the woman. At +any rate, 'tis said that this very morning he quarreled hotly with Mr. +Law. The latter gave back words hot as he received, and so they had it +violent enough. 'Tis stated on the Quinquempoix that another must take +Mr. Law's place. But if Mr. Law goes, what will become of the System? +And what would the System be without Mr. Law? And what would Paris be +without the System? Why, listen, Lady Catharine! I gained fifty thousand +livres yesterday, and my coachman, the rascal, in some manner seems to +have done quite as well for himself. I doubt not he will yet build a +mansion of his own, and perhaps my husband may drive for him! These be +strange days indeed. I only hope they may continue, in spite of what my +husband says." + +"And what says he?" asked Lady Catharine, her own voice sounding to her +unfamiliar and far away. + +"Why, that the city is mad, and that this soon must end--this +Mississippi bubble, as my Lord Stair calls it at the embassy." + +"Yet I have heard all France is prosperous." + +"Oh, yes indeed. 'Tis said that but yesterday the kingdom paid four +millions of its debt to Bavaria, three millions of its debt to +Sweden--yet these are not the most pressing debts of France." + +"Meaning--" + +"Why, the debts of the regent to his friends--those are the important +things. But the other day he gave eighty thousand livres to Madame +Châteauthiers, as a little present. He gave two hundred thousand livres +to the Abbé Something-or-other, who asked for it, and another thousand +livres to that rat Dubois. The thief D'Argenson ever counsels him to +give in abundance now that he hath abundance, and the regent is ready +with a vengeance with his compliance. Saint Simon, that priggish duke, +has had a million given him to repay a debt his father took on for the +king a generation ago. To the captain of the guard the regent gives six +hundred thousand livres, for carrying the fan of the regent's forgotten +wife; to the Prince Courtenay, two hundred thousand, most like because +the prince said he had need of it; a pension of two hundred thousand +annually to the Marquise de Bellefonte, the second such sum, because +perhaps she once made eyes at him; a pension of sixty thousand livres to +a three-year-old relative to the Prince de Conti, because Conti cried +for it; one hundred thousand livres to Mademoiselle Haidée, because she +has a consumption; and as much more to the Duchesse de Falari, because +she has not a consumption. Bah! The credit of France might indeed, as my +husband says, be called leaking through the slats of fans." + +"But, look you!" she went on, "how Mr. Law feathers his own nest. He +bought lately, for a half million livres, the house of the Comte de +Tesse; and on the same day, as you know, the Hôtel Mazarin. There is no +limit to his buying of estates. This, so says my husband, is the great +proof of his honesty. He puts his money here in France, and does not +send it over seas. He seems to have no doubt, and indeed no fear, of +anything." + +Lady Warrington paused, half for want of breath. Silence fell in the +great room. A big and busy fly, deep down in the crystal _cylindre_ +which sheltered a taper on a near-by table, buzzed out a droning +protest. The face of Lady Catharine was averted. + +"You did not tell me, Lady Emily," said she, with woman's feigned +indifference, "what was the name of this poor woman of the other +evening." + +"Why, so I had forgot--and 'tis said that Mr. Law, after all, comported +himself something of the gentleman. No one knows how far back the affair +runs, nor how serious it was. And indeed I have seen no one who ever +heard of the woman before." + +"And the name?" + +"'Twas said Mr. Law called her Mary Connynge." + +The big fly, deep down in the crystal cage, buzzed on audibly; and to +one who heard it, the drone of the lazy wings seemed like the roars of a +thousand tempests. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +MASTER AND MAN + + +John Law, idle, preoccupied, sat gazing out at the busy scenes of the +street before him. The room in which he found himself was one of a suite +in that magnificent Hôtel de Soisson, bought but recently of the Prince +de Carignan for the sum of one million four hundred thousand livres, +which had of late been chosen as the temple of Fortuna. The great +gardens of this distinguished site were now filled with hundreds of +tents and kiosks, which offered quarters for the wild mob of speculators +which surged and swirled and fought throughout the narrow avenues, +contending for the privilege of buying the latest issue of the priceless +shares of the Company of the Indies. + +The System was at its height. The bubble was blown to its last limit. +The popular delirium had grown to its last possible degree. + +From the window these mad mobs of infuriated human beings might have +seemed so many little ants, running about as though their home had been +destroyed above their heads. They hastened as though fleeing from the +breath of some devouring flame. Surely the point of flame was there, at +that focus of Paris, this focus of all Europe; and thrice refined was +the quality of this heat, burning out the hearts of those distracted +ones. + +Yet it was a scene not altogether without its fascinations. Hither came +titled beauties of Paris, peers of the realm, statesmen, high officials, +princes of the blood; all these animated but by one purpose--to bid and +outbid for these bits of paper, which for the moment meant wealth, +luxury, ease, every imaginable desire. It seemed indeed that the world +was mad. Tradesmen, artisans, laborers, peasants, jostled the princes +and nobility, nor met reproof. Rank was forgotten. Democracy, for the +first time on earth, had arrived. All were equal who held equal numbers +of these shares. The mind of each was blank to all but one absorbing +theme. + +Law looked over this familiar scene, indifferent, calm, almost moody, +his cheek against his hand, his elbow on his chair. "What was the call, +Henri," asked he, at length, of the old Swiss who had, during these +stormy times, been so long his faithful attendant. "What was the last +quotation that you heard?" + +"Your Honor, there are no quotations," replied the attendant. "'Tis +only as one is able to buy. The _actions_ of the last issue, three +hundred thousand in all, were swept away at a breath at fifteen thousand +livres the share." + +"Ninety times what their face demands," said Law, impassively. + +"True, some ninety times," said the Swiss. "'Tis said that of this issue +the regent has taken over one-third, or one hundred thousand, himself. +'Tis this that makes the price of the other two-thirds run the higher, +since 'tis all that the public has to buy." + +"Lucky regent," said Law, sententiously. "Plenty would seem to have been +his fortune!" + +He grimly turned again to his study of the crowds which swarmed among +the pavilions before his window. Outside his door he heard knockings and +cries, and impatient footfalls, but neither he nor the impassive Swiss +paid to these the least attention. It was to them an old experience. + +"Your Honor, the Prince de Conti is in the antechamber and would see +you," at length ventured the attendant, after listening for some time +with his ear at an aperture in the door. + +"Let the Prince de Conti wait," said Law, "and a plague take him for a +grasping miser! He has gained enough. Time was when I waited at his +door." + +"The Abbé Dubois--here is his message pushed beneath the door." + +"My dearest enemy," replied Law, calmly. "The old rat may seek another +burrow." + +"The Duchesse de la Rochefoucauld." + +"Ah, then, she hath overcome her husband's righteousness of resolution, +and would beg a share or so? Let her wait. I find these duchesses the +most tiresome animals in the world." + +"The Madame de Tencin." + +"I can not see the Madame de Tencin." + +"A score of dukes and foreign princes. My faith! master, we have never +had so large a line of guests as come this morning." The stolid +impassiveness of the Swiss seemed on the point of giving way. + +"Let them wait," replied Law, evenly as before. "Not one of them would +listen to me five years ago. Now I shall listen to them--shall listen to +them knocking at my door, as I have knocked at theirs. To-day I am +aweary, and not of mind to see any one. Let them wait." + +"But what shall I say? What shall I tell them, my master?" + +"Tell them nothing. Let them wait." + +Thus the crowd of notables packed into the anterooms waited at the +door, fuming and execrating, yet not departing. They all awaited the +magician, each with the same plea--some hope of favor, of advancement, +or of gain. + +At last there arose yet a greater tumult in the hall which led to the +door. A squad of guardsmen pushed through the packed ranks with the cry: +"For the king!" The regent of France stood at the closed door of the man +who was still the real ruler of France. + +"Open, open, in the name of the king!" cried one, as he beat loudly on +the panels. + +Law turned languidly toward the attendant. "Henri," said he, "tell them +to be more quiet." + +"My master, 'tis the regent!" expostulated the other, with somewhat of +anxiety in his tones. + +"Let him wait," replied Law, coolly. "I have waited for him." + +"But, my master, they protest, they clamor--" + +"Very well. Let them do so--but stay. If it is indeed the regent, I may +as well meet him now and say that which is in my mind. Open the door." + +The door swung open and there entered the form of Philippe of Orléans, +preceded by his halberdiers and followed close by a rush of humanity +which the guards and the Swiss together had much pains to force back +into the anteroom. + +"How now, Monsieur L'as, how now?" fumed the regent, his heavy face +glowing a dull red, his prominent eyes still more protruding, his +forehead bent into a heavy frown. "You deny entrance to our person, who +are next to the body of his Majesty?" + +"Did you have delay?" asked Law, sweetly. "'Twas unfortunate." + +"'Twas execrable!" + +"True. I myself find these crowds execrable." + +"Nay, execrable to suffer this annoyance of delay!" + +"Your Grace's pardon," said Law, coolly. "You should have made an +appointment a few days in advance." + +"What! The regent of France need to arrange a day when he would see a +servant!" + +"Your Grace is unfortunate in his choice of words," replied Law, +blandly. "I am not your servant. I am your master." + +The regent sank back into a chair, gasping, his hand clutching at the +hilt of his sword. + +"Seize him! Seize him! To the Bastille with him! The presumer! The +impostor!" + +Yet even the guards hesitated before the commanding presence of that man +whom all had been so long accustomed to obey. With hand upraised, Law +gazed at them for one instant, and then gave them no further attention. + +"Yet these words I must hasten to qualify," resumed he. "True, I am at +this moment your master, your Grace, but two minutes hence, and for all +time thereafter, I shall no longer be your master. Your Grace was once +so good as to make me head of certain financial matters, and to give me +control of them. The fabric of this Messasebe, which you see without, +was all my own. It was this which made me master of Paris, and of every +man within the gates of Paris. So far, very well. My plans were honest, +and the growth of France--nay, let us say the resurrection of +France--the new life of France--shows how my own plans were made and how +well I knew that which was to happen. I made you rich, your Grace. I +gave you funds to pay off millions of your private debts, millions to +gratify your fancies. I gave you more millions to pay the debts of +France. France and her regent have again taken a position of honor in +the eyes of the world. You may well call me master of your fate, who +have been able to accomplish these things. So long as you knew your +master, you did well. Now your Grace has seen fit to change masters. He +would be his own master again. There can not be two in control of a +concern like this. Sir, the two minutes have elapsed. I am your very +humble servant!" + +The regent still sat staring from his chair, and speech was yet denied +him. + +"There are your people. There is your France," said Law, beckoning as he +turned toward the window and pointing to the crowd without. "There is +your France. Now handle it, my master! Here are the reins! Now drive; +but see that you be careful how you drive. Come, your Grace," said he, +mockingly, over his shoulder. "Come, and see your France!" + +The audacity of John Law was a thing without parallel, as had been +proved a hundred times in his strange life and in a hundred places. His +sheer contemptuous daring brought Philippe of Orléans to his senses. He +relaxed now in his purpose, changeable as was his wont, and advanced +towards Law with hand outstretched. + +"There, there, Monsieur L'as, I did you wrong, perhaps," said he. "But +as to these hasty words, pray reconsider them at once. 'Twill have a bad +effect should a breath of this get afloat. Indeed, 'twas because of some +such thing that I came to see you this morning. A most unspeakable, a +most incredible thing hath occurred. It comes to me with certain +confirmation that there have been shares sold upon the street at twelve +thousand livres to the _action_, whereas, as you very well know, +fifteen thousand should be the lowest price to-day." + +"And what of that, your Grace?" said Law, calmly. "Is it not what you +planned? Is it not what you have been expecting?" + +"How, sirrah! What do you mean?" + +"Why, I mean this, your Grace," said Law, calmly, "that since you have +taken the reins, it is you who must drive the chariot. I shall suggest +no plans, shall offer no remedy. But, if you still lack ability to see +how and why this thing has attained this situation, I will take so much +trouble as to make it plain." + +"Go on, then, sir," said the regent. "Is not all well? Is there any +danger?" + +"As to danger," said Law, "we can not call it a time of danger after the +worst has happened." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Why, that the worst has happened. But, as I was about to say, I shall +tell you how it happened." + +The gaze of the regent fell. His hand trembled as he fumbled at his +sword hilt. + +"Your Grace," said Law, calmly, "will do me the kindness to remember +that when I first asked of you the charter of the Banque Générale, to be +taken privately in the name of myself and my brother, I told you that +any banker merited the punishment of death if he issued notes or bills +of exchange without having their effective value safe in his own strong +boxes." + +"Well, what of that?" queried the regent, weakly. + +"Nothing, your Grace, except that your Grace deserves the punishment of +death." + +"How, sir! Good God!" + +"If the truth of this matter should ever become known, those people out +there, that France yonder, would tear your Grace limb from limb, and +trample you in the dust!" + +The livid face of the regent went paler as the other spoke. There was +conviction in those tones which could not fail to reach even his heavy +wits. + +"Let me explain," went on Law. "I beg your Grace to remember again, that +when your Grace was good enough to take out of the hands of my brother +and myself our little bank--which we had run honorably and +successfully--you changed at one sweep the whole principle of honest +banking. You promised to pay something which was unstipulated. You +issued a note back of which there was no value, no fixed limit of +measurement. Twice you have changed the coinage of the realm, and twice +assigned a new value to your specie. No one can tell what one of your +shares in the stock of the Indies means in actual coin. It means +nothing, stands for nothing, is good for nothing. Now, think you, when +these people, when this France shall discover these facts, that they +will be lenient with those who have thus deceived them?" + +"Yet your theory always was that we had too great a scarcity of money +here in France," expostulated the regent. + +"True, so I did. We had not enough of good money. We can not have too +little of false money, of money such as your Grace--as you thought +without my knowledge--has been so eager to issue from the presses of our +Company. It had been an easy thing for the regent of France to pay off +all the debts of the world from now until the verge of eternity, had not +his presses given out. Money of that sort, your Grace, is such as any +man could print for himself, did he but have the linen and the ink." + +The regent again dropped to his chair, his head falling forward upon his +breast. + +"But what does it all mean? What shall be done? What will be the +result?" he asked, his voice showing well enough the anxiety which had +swiftly fallen upon his soul. + +"As to that," replied Law, laconically, "I am no longer master here. I +am not controller of finance. Appoint Dubois, appoint D'Argenson. Send +for the Brothers Paris. Take them to this window, your Grace, and show +them your people, show them your France, and then ask them to tell you +what shall be done. Cry out to all the world, as I know you will, that +this was the fault of an unknown adventurer, of a Scotch gambler, of one +John Law, who brought forth some pretentious schemes to the detriment of +the realm. Saddle upon me the blame for all this ruin which is coming. +Malign me, misrepresent me, imprison me, exile me, behead me if you +like, and blame John Law for the discomfiture of France! But when you +come to seek your remedies, why, ask no more of John Law. Ask of Dubois, +ask of D'Argenson, ask of the Paris Frères; or, since your Grace has +seen fit to override me and to take these matters in his own hands, let +your Grace ask of himself! Tell me, as regent of France, as master of +Paris, as guardian of the rights of this young king, as controller of +the finances of France, as savior or destroyer of the welfare of these +people of France and of that America which is greater than this +France--tell me, what will you do, your Grace? What do you suggest as +remedy?" + +"You devil! you arch fiend!" exclaimed the regent, starting up and +laying his hand on his sword. "There is no punishment you do not +deserve! You will leave me in this plight--you--you, who have supplanted +me at every turn; you who made that horrible scene but last night at my +own table, within the very gates of the Palais Royal; you, the murderer +of the woman I adored! And now, you mocker and flouter of what may be my +bitterest misfortune--why, sir, no punishment is sharp enough for you! +Why do you stand there, sir? Do you dare to mock me--to mock us, the +person of the king?" + +"I mock not in the least, your Grace," said John Law, "nor do aught else +that ill beseems a gentleman. I should have been proud to be known as +the friend of Philippe of Orléans, yet I stand before that Philippe of +Orléans and tell him that that man doth not live, nor that set of +terrors exist, which can frighten John Law, nor cause him to depart from +that stand which he once has taken. Sir, if you seek to frighten me, you +fail." + +"But, look you--consider," said the regent. "Something must be done." + +"As I said," replied Law. + +"But what is going to happen? What will the people do?" + +"First," said Law, judicially, flicking at the deep lace of his cuff as +though he were taking into consideration the price of a wig or cane, +"first, the price of a share having gone to twelve thousand livres this +morning, by two o'clock will be so low as ten thousand. By three +o'clock this afternoon it will be six thousand. Then, your Grace, there +will be panic. Then the spell will be broken. France will rub her eyes +and begin to awaken. Then, since the king can do no wrong, and since the +regent is the king, your Grace can do one of two things. He can send a +body-guard to watch my door, or he can see John Law torn into fragments, +as these people would tear the real author of their undoing, did they +but recognize him." + +"But can nothing be done to stop this? Can it not be accommodated?" + +"Ask yourself. But I must go on to say what these people will do. All at +once they will demand specie for their notes. The Prince de Conti will +drive his coaches to the door of your bank, and demand that they be +loaded with gold. Jacques and Raoul and Pierre, and every peasant and +pavior in Paris will come with boxes and panniers, and each of them will +also demand his gold. Make edicts, your Grace. Publish broadcast and +force out into publicity, on every highway of France, your decree that +gold and silver are not so good as your bank notes; that no one must +have gold or silver; that no one must send his gold and silver out of +France, but that all must bring it to the king and take for it in +exchange these notes of yours. Try that. It ought to succeed, ought it +not, your Grace?" His bantering tone sank into one of half plausibility. + +"Why, surely. That would be the solution." + +"Oh, think you so? Your Grace is wondrous keen as a financier! Now take +the counsel of Dubois, of D'Argenson, my very good friends. This is what +they will counsel you to do. And I will counsel you at the same time to +avail yourself of their advice. Tell all France to bring in its gold, to +enable you to put something essential under the value of all this paper +money which you have been sending out so lavishly, so unthinkingly, so +without stint or measure." + +"Yes. And then?" + +"Why, then, your Grace," said Law, "then we shall see what we shall +see!" + +The regent again choked with anger. Law continued. "Go on. Smooth down +the back of this animal. Continue to reduce these taxes. The specie of +the realm of France, as I am banker enough to know, is not more than +thirteen hundred millions of livres, allowing sixty-five livres to the +marc. Yet long before this your Grace has crowded the issue of our +_actions_ until there are out not less than twenty-six hundred millions +of livres in the stock of our Company. Your Brothers Paris, your +D'Argenson, your Dubois will tell you how you can make the people of +France continue to believe that twice two is not four, that twice +thirteen is not twenty-six!" + +"But this they are doing," broke in the regent, with a ray of hope in +his face. "This they are doing. We have provided for that. In the +council not an hour ago the Abbé Dubois and Monsieur d'Argenson decided +that the time had come to make some fixed proportion between the specie +and these notes. We have to-day framed an edict, which the Parliament +will register, stating that the interests of the subjects of the king +require that the price of these bank notes should be lessened, so that +there may be some sort of accommodation between them and the coin of the +realm. We have ordered that the shares shall, within thirty days, drop +to seventy-five hundred livres, in another thirty days to seven thousand +livres, and so on, at five hundred livres a month, until at last they +shall have a value of one-half what they were to-day. Then, tell me, my +wise Monsieur L'as, would not the issue of our notes and the total of +our specie be equal, one with the other? The only wrong thing is this +insulting presumption of these people, who have sold _actions_ at a +price lower than we have decreed." + +Law smiled as he replied. "You say excellently well, my master. These +plans surely show that you and your able counselors have studied deeply +the questions of finance! I have told you what would happen to-day +without any decree of the king. Now go you on, and make your decrees. +You will find that the people are much more eager for values which are +going up than values which are going down. Start your shares down hill, +and you will see all France scramble for such coin, such plate, such +jewels as may be within the ability of France to lay her hands upon. +Tell me, your Grace, did Monsieur d'Argenson advise you this morning as +to the total issue of the _actions_ of this Company?" + +"Surely he did, and here I have it in memorandum, for I was to have +taken it up with yourself," replied the regent. + +"So," exclaimed Law, a look of surprise passing over his countenance, +until now rigidly controlled, as he gazed at the little slip of paper. +"Your Grace advises me that there are issued at this time in the shares +of the Company no less than two billion, two hundred and thirty-five +million, eighty-five thousand, five hundred and ninety livres in notes! +Against this, as your Grace is good enough to agree with me, we have +thirteen hundred millions of specie. Your Grace, yourself and I have +seen some pretty games in our day. Look you, the merriest game of all +your life is now but just before you!" + +"And you would go and leave me at this time?" + +"Never in my life have I forsaken a friend at the time of distress," +replied Law. "But your Grace absolved me when you forsook me, when you +doubted and hesitated regarding me, and believed the protestations of +those not so able as myself to judge of what was best. And now it is too +late. Will your Grace allow me to suggest that a place behind stout +gates and barred doors, deep within the interior of the Palais Royal, +will be the best residence for him to-night--perhaps for several nights +to come?" + +"And yourself?" + +"As for myself, it does not matter," replied Law, slowly and +deliberately. "I have lived, and I thought I had succeeded. Indeed, +success was mine for some short months, though now I must meet failure. +I have this to console me--that 'twas failure not of my own fault. As +for France, I loved her. As for America, I believe in her to-day, this +very hour. As for your Grace in person, I was your friend, nor was I +ever disloyal to you. But it sometimes doth seem that, no matter how +sincere be one in one's endeavors, no matter how cherished, no matter +how successful for a time may be his ambitions, there is ever some +little blight to eat the face of the full fruit of his happiness. +To-morrow I shall perhaps not be alive. It is very well. There is +nothing I could desire, and it is as well to-morrow as at any time." + +"But surely, Monsieur L'as," interrupted the regent, with a trace of his +old generosity, "if there should be outbreak, as you fear, I shall, of +course, give you a guard. I shall indeed see you safe out of the city, +if you so prefer, though I had much liefer you would remain and try to +help us undo this coil, wherein I much misdoubt myself." + +"Your Grace, I am a disappointed man, a man with nothing in the world to +comfort him. I have said that I would not help you, since 'twas yourself +brought ruin on my plans, and cast down that work which I had labored +all my life to finish. Yet I will advise this, as being your most +immediate plan. Smooth down this France as best you may. Remit more +taxes, as I said. Depreciate the value of these shares gently, but +rapidly as you can. Institute great numbers of perpetual annuities. +Juggle, temporize, postpone, get for yourself all the time you can. +Trade for the people's shares all you have that they will take. You can +never strike a balance, and can never atone for the egregious error of +this over-issue of stock which has no intrinsic value. Eventually you +may have to declare void many of these shares and withdraw from the +currency these _actions_ for which so recently the people have been +clamoring." + +"That means repudiation!" broke in the regent. + +"Certainly, your Grace, and in so far your Grace has my extremest +sympathy. I know it was your resolve not to repudiate the debts of +France, as those debts stood when I first met you some years ago. That +was honorable. Yet now the debts of France are immeasurably greater, +rich as France thinks herself to be. Not all France, were the people and +the produce of the commerce counted in the coin, could pay the debt of +France as it now exists. Hence, honorable or not, there is nothing +else--it is repudiation which now confronts you. France is worse than +bankrupt. And now it would seem wise if your Grace took immediate steps, +not only for the safety of his person, but for the safety of the +Government." + +"Sir, do you mean that the people would dare, that they would presume--" + +"The people are not what they were. There hath come into Europe the +leaven of the New World. I had looked there to see a nobler and a better +France. It is too late for that, and surely it is too late for the old +ways of this France which we see about us. You can not presume now upon +the temper of these folk as you might have done fifty years ago. The +Messasebe, that noble stream, it hath swept its purifying flood +throughout the world! Look you, at this moment there is tumbling this +house which we have built of bubbles, one bubble upon another, blowing +each bubble bigger and thinner than the last. Mine is not the only +fault, nor yet the greatest fault. I was sincere, where others cared +naught for sincerity. Another day, another people, may yet say the world +was better for my effort, and that therefore at the last I have not +failed." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE BREAKING OF THE BUBBLE + + +It was the evening of the day following that on which John Law and the +regent of France had met in their stormy interview. During the morning +but little had transpired regarding the significant events of the +previous day. In these vast and excited crowds, divided into groups and +cliques and factions, aided by no bulletins, counseled by no printed +page, there was but little cohesion of purpose, since there was little +unity of understanding. The price of shares at one kiosk might be +certain thousands of livres, whereas a square away, the price might vary +by half as many livres; so impetuous was the advance of these +continually rising prices, and so frenzied and careless the temper of +those who bargained for them. + +Yet before noon of the day following the decree of the regent, which +fixed the value of _actions_ upon a descending scale, the news, after a +fashion of its own, spread rapidly abroad, and all too swiftly the truth +was generally known. The story started in a rumor that shares had been +offered and declined at a price which had been current but a few moments +before. This was something which had not been known in all these +feverish months of the Messasebe. Then came the story that shares could +not be counted upon to realize over eight thousand livres. At that the +price of all the _actions_ dropped in a flash, as Law had prophesied. A +sudden wave of sanity, a panic chill of sober understanding swept over +this vast multitude of still unreasoning souls who had traded so long +upon this impossible supposition of an ever-advancing market. Reason +still lacked among them, yet fear and sudden suspicion were not wanting. +Man after man hastened swiftly away to sell privately his shares before +greater drop in the price might come. He met others upon the same +errand. + +Precisely the reverse of the old situation now obtained. As all Paris +had fought to buy, so now all Paris fought to sell. The streets were +filled with clamoring mobs. If earlier there had been confusion, now +there was pandemonium. Never was such a scene witnessed. Never was there +chronicled so swift and utter reversion of emotion in the minds of a +great concourse of people. Bitter indeed was the wave of agony that +swept over Paris. It began at the Messasebe, in the gardens of the Hôtel +de Soisson, at that focus hard by the temple of Fortuna. It spread and +spread, edging out into all the remoter portions of the walled city. It +reached ultimately the extreme confines of Paris. Into the crowded +square which had been decreed as the trading-place of the Messasebe +System, there crowded from the outer purlieus yet other thousands of +excited human beings. The end had come. The bubble had burst. There was +no longer any System of the Messasebe! + +It was late in the day, in fact well on toward night, when the knowledge +of the crash came into the neighborhood where dwelt the Lady Catharine +Knollys. To her the news was brought by a servant, who excitedly burst +unannounced into her mistress's presence. + +"Madame! Madame!" she cried. "Prepare! 'Tis horrible! 'Tis impossible! +All is at an end!" + +"What mean you, girl!" cried Lady Catharine, displeased at the +disrespect. "What is happening? Is there fire? And even if there were, +could you not remember your duty more seemly than this?" + +"Worse, worse than fire, Madame! Worse than anything! The bank has +failed! The shares of the System are going down! 'Tis said that we can +get but three thousand livres the share, perhaps less--perhaps they will +go down to nothing. I am ruined, ruined! We are all ruined! And within +the month I was to have been married to the footman of the Marquis +d'Allouez, who has bought himself a title this very week!" + +"And if it has fallen so ill," said Lady Catharine, "since I have not +speculated in these things like most folk, I shall be none the worse for +it, and shall still have money to pay your wages. So perhaps you can +marry your marquis after all." + +"But we shall not be rich, Madame! We are ruined, ruined! _Mon Dieu_! we +poor folk! We had the hope to be persons of quality. 'Tis all the work +of this villain Jean L'as. May the Bastille get him, or the people, and +make him pay for this!" + +"Stop! Enough of this, Marie!" said the Lady Catharine, sternly. "After +this have better wisdom, and do not meddle in things which you do not +understand." + +Yet scarce had the girl departed before there appeared again the sound +of running steps, and presently there broke, equally unannounced, into +the presence of his mistress, the coachman, fresh from his stables and +none too careful of his garb. Tears ran down his cheeks. He flung out +his hands with gestures as of one demented. + +"The news!" cried he. "The news, my Lady! The horrible news! The System +has vanished, the shares are going down!" + +"Fellow, what do you here?" said Lady Catharine. "Why do you come with +this same story which Marie has just brought to me? Can you not learn +your place?" + +"But, my Lady, you do not understand!" reiterated the man, blankly. +"'Tis all over. There is no Messasebe; there is no longer any System, no +longer any Company of the Indies. There is no longer wealth for the +stretching out of the hand. 'Tis all over. I must go back to horses--I, +Madame, who should presently have associated with the nobility!" + +"Well, and if so," replied his mistress, "I can say to you, as I have to +Marie, that there will still be money for your wages." + +"Wages! My faith, what trifles, my Lady! This Monsieur L'as, the +director-general, he it is who has ruined us! Well enough it is that the +square in front of his hotel is filled with people! Presently they will +break down his doors. And then, pray God they punish him for this that +he has done!" + +The cheek of Lady Catharine paled and a sudden flood of contending +emotions crossed her mind. "You do not tellme that Monsieur L'as is in +danger, Pierre?" said she. + +"Assuredly. Perhaps within the very hour they will tear down his doors +and rend him limb from limb. There is no punishment which can serve him +right--him who has ruined our pretty, pretty System. _Mon Dieu_! It was +so beautiful!" + +"Is this news certain?" + +"Assuredly, most certain. Why should it not be? The entire square in +front of the Hôtel de Soisson is packed. Unless my Lady needs me, I +myself must hasten thither to aid in the punishment of this Jean L'as!" + +"You will stay here," said Lady Catharine. "Wait! There may be need! For +the present, go!" + +Left alone, Lady Catharine stood for a moment pale and motionless, in +the center of the room. She strode then to the window and stood looking +fixedly out. Her whole figure was tense, rigid. Yonder, over there, +across the gabled roofs of Paris, they were clamoring at the door of him +who had given back Paris to the king, and Franceagain to its people. +They were assailing him--this man so long unfaltering, so insistent on +his ambitions, so--so steadfast! Could she call him steadfast? And they +would seize him in spite of the courage which she knew would never fail. +They would kill, they would rend, they would trample him! They would +crush that glorious body, abase the lips that had spoke so well of love! + +The clenched fingers of Lady Catharine broke apart, her arms were flung +wide in a gesture of resolution. She turned from the window, looking +here and there about the room. Unconsciously she stopped before the +great cheval-glass that hung against the wall. She stood there, looking +at her own image, keenly, deeply. + +She saw indeed a woman fit for sweet usages of love, comely and rounded, +deep-bosomed, her oval face framed in the piled masses of glorious +red-brown hair. But her wide, blue eyes, scarce seeing this outward +form, stared into the soul of that other whom she witnessed. + +It was as though the Lady Catharine Knollys at last saw another self and +recognized it! A quick, hard sob broke from her throat. In haste she +flew, now to one part of the room, now to another, picking up first this +article and then that which seemed of need. And so at last she hurried +to the bell-cord. + +"Quick," cried she, as the servant at length appeared. "Quick! Do not +delay an instant! My carriage at once!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THAT WHICH REMAINED + + +As for John Law, all through that fatal day which meant for him the ruin +of his ambitions, he continued in the icy calm which, for days past, had +distinguished him. He discontinued his ordinary employments, and spent +some hours in sorting and destroying numbers of papers and documents. +His faithful servant, the Swiss, Henri, he commanded to make ready his +apparel for a journey. + +"At six this evening," said he, "Henri, we shall be ready to depart. Let +us be quite ready well before that time." + +"Monsieur is leaving Paris?" asked the Swiss, respectfully. + +"Quite so." + +"Perhaps for a stay of some duration?" + +"Quite so, indeed, Henri." + +"Then, sir," expostulated the Swiss, "it would require a day or so for +me to properly arrange your luggage." + +"Not at all," replied Law. "Two valises will suffice, not more, and I +shall perhaps not need even these." + +"Not all the apparel, the many coats, the jewels--" + +"Do not trouble over them." + +"But what disposition shall I make--?" + +"None at all. Leave all these things as they are. But stay--this package +which I shall prepare for you--take it to the regent, and have it marked +in his care and for the Parliament of France." + +Law raised in his hands a bundle of parchments, which one by one he tore +across, throwing the fragments into a basket as he did so. + +"The seat of Tancarville," he said. "The estate of Berville; the Hôtel +Mazarin; the lands of Bourget; the Marquisat of Charleville; the lands +of Orcher; the estate of Roissy--Gad! what a number of them I find." + +"But, Monsieur," expostulated the Swiss, "what is that you do? Are these +not your possessions?" + +"Not so, _mon ami_," replied Law. "They once were mine. They are estates +in France. Take back these deeds. Dead Sully may have his own again, and +each of these late owners of the lands. I wished them for a purpose. +That purpose is no longer possible, and now I wish them no more. Take +back your deeds, my friends, and bear in your minds that John Law tore +them in two, and thus canceled the obligation." + +"But the moneys you have paid--they are enormous. Surely you will exact +restitution?" + +"Sirrah, could I not afford these moneys?" + +"Admirably at the time," replied the Swiss, with the freedom of long +service. "But for the future, what do we know? Besides, it is a matter +of right and justice." + +"Ah, _mon ami_" said Law, "right and justice are no more. But since you +speak of money, let us take precautions as to that. We shall need some +money for our journey. See, Henri! Take this note and get the money +which it calls for. But no! The crowd may be too great. Look in the +drawer of my desk yonder, and take out what you find." + +The Swiss did as he was bidden, but at length returned with troubled +face. + +"Monsieur," said he, "I can find but a hundred louis." + +"Put half of it back," said Law. "We shall not need so much." + +"But, Monsieur, I do not understand." + +"We shall not need more than fifty louis. That is enough. Leave the +rest," said Law. "Leave it where you found it." + +"But for whom? Does Monsieur soon return?" + +"No. Leave it for him who may be first to find it. These dear people +without, these same people whom I have enriched, and who now will claim +that I have impoverished them--these people will demand of me everything +that I have. As a man of honor I can not deny them. They shall have +every jot and stiver of the property of John Law, even the million or so +of good coin which he brought here to Paris with him. The coat on my +back, the wheels beneath me, gold enough to pay for the charges of the +inns through France--that is all that John Law will take away with him." + +The arms of the old servant fell helpless at his side. "Sir, this is +madness," he expostulated. + +"Not so, Henri," replied Law, leniently. "Madness enough there has been +in Paris, it is true, but madness not mine nor of my making. For +madness, look you yonder." + +He pointed a finger through the window where the stately edifice of the +Palais Royal rose. + +"My good friend the regent--it is he who hath been mad," continued Law. +"He, holding France in trust, has ruined France forever." + +"Monsieur, I grieve for you," said the Swiss. "I have seen your success +in these years and, as you may imagine, have understood something of +your affairs as time went on." + +"And have you not profited by your knowledge in these times?" + +"I have had the salary your Honor has agreed to pay me," replied the +Swiss. + +"And no more?" + +"No more." + +"Why, there are serving folk in France by the hundreds who have grown +millionaires by the knowledge of their employers' affairs these last two +years in Paris. Never was such a time in all the world for making money. +Have you been more blind than they? Why did you not tell me? Why did you +not ask?" + +"I was content with your employment. Monsieur L'as. I would ask no +better master." + +"It is not so with certain others. They think me a hard master enough, +and having displaced me, will do all they can to punish me. But now, +Henri, you will perhaps need to look elsewhere for a master. I am going +far away--perhaps across the seas. It may be--but I know not where and +care not where my foot may wander hereafter, nor will I seek now to plan +for it. As for you, Henri, since you admit you have been thus blind to +your own interests, let us look to that. Go to the desk again. Take out +the drawer--that one on the left hand. So--bring it to me." + +The servant obeyed. Law took from his hand the receptacle, and with a +sweep of his hand poured out on the table its contents. A mass of +glittering gems, diamonds, sapphires, pearls, emeralds, fell and spread +over the table top. The light cast out by their thousand facets lit up +the surroundings with shimmering, many-colored gleams. The wealth of a +kingdom might have been here in the careless possession of this man, +whose resources had been absolutely without measure. + +"Help yourself, Henri," said Law, calmly, and turned about to his +employment among the papers. A moment later he turned again to see his +servant still standing motionless. + +"Well?" said Law. + +"I do not understand," said the Swiss. + +"Take what you like," said Law. "I have said it, and I mean it. It is +for your pay, because you have been honest, because I understand you as +a faithful man." + +"But, Monsieur, these things have very great value," said the Swiss. +"Let me ask how is it that you yourself take so little gold along? Does +Monsieur purpose to take with him his fortune in gems and jewels +instead?" + +"By no means. I purpose taking but fifty louis, as I have said." + +"Monsieur would have me replace the drawer?" + +"How do you mean?" + +"Why, I want none of them." + +"Why?" + +"Because Monsieur wants none of them." + +"Fie! Your case is quite different from mine." + +"Perhaps, but I want none of them." + +"Are you afraid?" + +"Monsieur!" + +"Do you not think them genuine stones?" + +"Assuredly," said the Swiss, "else why should we have cared for them +among our gems?" + +"Well, then, I command you as your master, to take forth some of these +jewels and keep them for your own." + +"But no," replied the Swiss. "It is only after Monsieur." + +"What? Myself?" + +"Assuredly." + +"Then, for the sake of precedent," said Law, "let me see. Well, then, I +will take one gem, only one. Here, Henri, is the diamond which I brought +with me when I came to Paris years ago. It was the sole jewel owned then +by my brother and myself, though we had somewhat of gold between us, +thanks to this same diamond. It was once my sole capital, in years gone +by. Perhaps we may need a carriage through France, and this may serve to +pay the hire of a vehicle from one of my late dukes or marquises. Or +perhaps at best I may send this same stone across the channel to my +brother Will, who has wisely gone to Scotland, or should have departed +before this. So, very well, Henri, to oblige you I will take this single +stone. Now, do you help yourself." + +"Since Monsieur limits himself to so little," said the Swiss, sturdily, +"I shall not want more. This little pin will serve me, and I shall wear +it long in memory of your many kindnesses." + +Law rose to his feet and caught the good fellow by the hand. + +"By heaven, I find you of good blood!" said he. "My friend, I thank you. +And now put up the box. I shall not counsel you to take more than this. +We shall leave the rest for those who will presently come to claim it." + +For some time silence reigned in the great room, as Law, deeply engaged +in the affairs before him, buried himself in the mass of scattered books +and papers. Hour after hour wore on, and at last he turned from his +employment. His face showed calm, pale, and furrowed with a sadness +which till now had been foreign to it. He arose at last, and with a +sweep of his arm pushed back the papers which lay before him. + +"There," said he. "This should conclude it all. It should all be plain +enough now to those who follow." + +"Monsieur is weary," mentioned the faithful attendant. "He would have +some refreshment." + +"Presently, but I think not here, Henri. My household is not all so +faithful as yourself, and I question if we could find cook or servants +for the table below. No, we are to leave Paris to-night, Henri, and it +is well the journey should begin. Get you down to the stables, and, if +you can, have my best coach brought to the front door." + +"It may not be quite safe, if Monsieur will permit me to suggest." + +"Perhaps not. These fools are so deep in their folly that they do not +know their friends. But safe or not, that is the way I shall go. We +might slip out through the back door, but 'tis not thus John Law will go +from Paris." + +The servant departed, and Law, left alone, sat silent and motionless, +buried in thought. Now and again his head sank forward, like that of one +who has received a deep hurt. But again he drew himself up sternly, and +so remained, not leaving his seat nor turning toward the window, beyond +which could now be heard the sound of shouting, and cries whose confused +and threatening tones might have given ground for the gravest +apprehension. At length the Swiss again reported, much agitated and +shaken from his ordinary self-control. + +"Monsieur," said he, "come. I have at last the coach at the door. +Hasten, Monsieur; a crowd is gathering. Indeed, we may meet violence." + +Law seemed not to hear him, but sat for a time, his head still bowed, +his eyes gazing straight before him. + +"But, Monsieur," again broke in the Swiss, anxiously, "if I may +interrupt, there is need to hasten. There will be a mob. Our guard is +gone." + +"So," said Law. "They were afraid?" + +"Surely. They fled forthwith when they heard the people below crying out +at the house. They are indeed threatening death to yourself. They cry +that they will burn the house--that should you appear, they will have +your blood at once." + +"And are you not afraid?" asked Law. + +"I am here. Does not Monsieur fear for himself?" + +Law shrugged his shoulders. "There are many of them, and we are but +two," said he. "For yourself, go you down the back way and care for your +own safety. I will go out the front and meet these good people. Are we +quite ready for the journey?" + +"Quite ready, as you have directed." + +"Have you the two valises, with the one change of clothing?" + +"They are here." + +"And have you the fifty louis, as I stated?" + +"Here in the purse." + +"And I think you have also the single diamond." + +"It is here." + +"Then," said Law, "let us go." + +He rose, and scarce looking behind him, even to see that his orders to +the servant had been obeyed, he strode down the vast stairway of the +great hôtel, past many precious works of art, between walls hung with +richest tapestries and noble paintings. The click of his heel on a +chance bit of exposed marble here and there echoed hollow, as though +indeed the master of the palace had been abandoned by all his people. +The great building was silent, empty. + +"What! Are you, then, here?" he said, seeing the servant had disobeyed +his instructions and was following close behind him. He alone out of +those scores of servants, those hundreds of fawning nobles, those +thousands of sycophant souls who had but lately cringed before him, now +accompanied the late master of France as he turned to leave the house +in which he no longer held authority. + +Without, but the door's thickness from where he stood, there arose a +tumult of sound, shouts, cries, imprecations, entreaties, as though the +walls of some asylum for the unfortunate had broken away and allowed its +inmates to escape unrestrained, irreclaimable, impossible to control. + +"Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!" rose a cadenced, rhythmic +shout, the accord of a mob of Paris beating into its tones. And this +steady burden was broken by the cries of "Enter! Enter! Break down the +door! Kill the monster! Assassin! Thief! Traitor!" No word of the +vocabulary of scorn and loathing was wanting in their cries. + +Hearing these cries, the face of this fighting man now grew hot with +anger, and now it paled with grief and sorrow. Yet he faltered not, but +stepped on, confidently. The Swiss opened the door and stood at the head +of the flight of stairs. Tall, calm, pale, fearless, John Law stood +facing the angry mob, his eyes shining brightly. He laid his hand for an +instant upon his sword, yet it was but to unbuckle the belt. The weapon +he left leaning against the wall, and so stepped on down toward the +crowd. + +He was met by a rush of excited men and women, screaming, cursing, +giving vent to inarticulate and indistinguishable speech. A man laid his +hand upon his shoulder. Law caught the hand, and with a swift wrench of +the wrist, threw the owner of it to the ground. At this the others gave +back, and for half a moment silence ensued. The mob lacked just the +touch of rage to hurl themselves upon him. He raised his hand and +motioned them aside. + +"Are you not Jean L'as?" cried one dame, excitedly, waving in his face a +handful of the paper shares of the latest issue in the Company of the +Indies. "Are you not Jean L'as? Tell me, then, where is my money for +these things? What shall I get for this rotten paper?" + +"You are Jean L'as, the director-general!" cried a man, pushing up to +his side. "'Twas you that ruined the Company. See! Here is all that I +have!" He wept as he shook his bunch of paper in John Law's face. "Last +week I was worth half a million!" He wept, and tore across, with +impotent rage, the bundle of worthless paper. + +"Down with Jean L'as! Down with Jean L'as!" came the recurrent cry. A +rush followed. The carriage, towering above the ring of the surrounding +crowd, showed its coat of arms, and thus was recognized. A paving-stone +crashed through its heavy window. A knife ripped up the velvets of the +cushions. + +The coachman was pulled from his box. The horses, plunging with terror, +were cut loose from the pole and led away. With shouts and cries of rage +and busy zeal, one madman vied with another in tearing, cutting and +destroying the vehicle, until it stood there ruined, without means of +locomotion, defaced and useless. And still the ring of desperate +humanity closed around him who had late been master of all France. + +"What do you want, my friends?" asked he, calmly, as for an instant +there came a lull in the tumult. He stood looking at them curiously now, +his dulling eyes regarding them as though they presented some new and +interesting study. "What is it that you desire?" he repeated. + +"We want our money," cried a score of voices. "We want back that which +you have stolen." + +"You are not exact," replied Law, calmly. "I have not your money, nor +yet have I stolen it. If you have suffered by this foolish panic, you do +not mend matters by thus treating me. By heaven, you go the wrong way to +get anything from me! Out of the way, you _canaille_! Do you think to +frighten me? I made your city. I made you all. Now, do you think to +frighten me, John Law?" + +"Oh! You would go away, you want to escape!" cried the voices of those +near at hand. "We will see as to that!" + +Again they fell upon the carriage, and still they hemmed him in the +closer. + +"True, I am going away," said Law. "But you can not say that I tried to +steal away without your knowing it. There, up the stairs, are my papers. +You will see in time that I have concealed nothing. Now I am going to +leave Paris, it is true; but not because I am afraid to stay here. 'Tis +for other reason, and reason of mine own." + +"'Twas you who ruined Paris--this city which you now seek to leave!" +shrieked the dame who had spoken before, still shaking her useless +bank-notes in her hand. + +"Oh, very well, my friend. For the argument, let us agree upon that," +said Law. + +"You ruined our Company, our beautiful Company!" cried another. + +"Certainly. Since I was the originator of it, that follows as matter of +reason," replied Law. + +"Ah, he admits it! He admits it!" cried yet another. "Don't let him +escape. Kill him! Down with Jean L'as!" + +"We are going to kill you precisely here!" cried a huge fellow, +brandishing a paving-stone before his eyes. "You are not fit to live." + +"As to that," said Law, "I agree with you perfectly. My hand upon it; I +am not fit to live. I have found that I made mistakes. I have found that +there is nothing left to desire. I have found out that all this money is +not worth the having. I have found out so many things, my very dear +friends, that I quite agree with you. For if one must want to live +before he is fit to live, then indeed I am not fit. But what then?" + +"Kill him! Kill him! Strike him down!" cried out a voice back of the +giant with the menacing paving-stone. + +"Oh, very well, my friends," resumed the object of their fury, flicking +again with his old, careless gesture at the deep cuff of his wrist. "As +you like in regard to that. More than one man has offered me that +happiness in the past, yet it was many a long year since, any man could +trouble me by announcing that he was about to kill me." + +Something in the attitude of the man stayed the hands of the most +dangerous members of the mob. Yet ever there came the cry from back of +them. "Down with Jean L'as! He has ruined everything!" + +"Friends," responded Law to this cry, bitterly, "you little know how +true you speak. It was indeed John Law who brought ruin to everything. +It was indeed he who threw away what was worth more than all the gold in +France. It is indeed he who has failed, and failed most utterly. You can +not frighten John Law, but you may do as you like with him, for surely +he has failed!" + +The bitterness of despair was in his tones. Then, perhaps, the sullen, +savage crowd had wrought their last act of anger and revenge on him, had +it not been for a sudden change in that tide of ill fortune that now +seemed to carry him forward to his doom. There came a sound of far-off +cries, a distant clacking of hoofs, the clatter of steel, many shouts, +entreaties and commands. The close-packed crowd which filled the open +space in front of the hôtel writhed, twisted, turned and would have +sought to resolve itself into groups and individuals. Some cried out +that the troops were coming. A detachment of the king's household, sent +out to disperse these dangerous gatherings, came full front down the +street, as had so often come the arm of the military in this turbulent +old city of Paris. Remorselessly they rode over and through the mob, +driving them, dispersing them. A moment later, and Law stood almost +alone at the steps of his own house. The squadron wheeled, headed by an +officer, who rode upon him with sword uplifted as though to cut him +down. Law raised his hand at this new menace. + +"Stop!" he cried. "I am the cause of this rioting. I am John Law." + +"What! Monsieur L'as?" cried the lieutenant. "So the people have found +you, have they?" + +"It would so seem. They have destroyed my carriage, and they would have +killed me," replied Law. "But I perceive it is Captain Mirabec. 'Twas I +who got you your commission, as you may remember." + +"Is it so?" replied the other, with a grin. "I have no recollection. +Since you are Jean L'as, the late director-general, the pity is I did +not let the people kill you. You are the cause of the ruin of us all, +the cause of my own ruin. Three days more, and I had been a +major-general. I had nearly the sum in _actions_ ready to pay over at +the right place. By our Lady of Grace, I am minded to run you through +myself, for a greater villain never set foot in France!" + +"Monsieur, I am about to leave France," said Law. + +"Oh, you would leave us? You would run away?" + +"As you like. But most of all, I am now very weary. I would not remain +here longer talking. Henri, where are you?" + +The faithful Swiss, who had remained close to his employer all the time, +and who had been not far from his side during the scenes just concluded, +was in a moment at his side. He hardly reached his master too soon, for +as he passed his arm about him, the head of Law sank wearily forward. He +might, perhaps, have sunk to the ground had he lacked a supporting arm. + +At this moment there came again the sound of hoofs upon the pavement. +There was the rush of a mounted outrider, and hard after him sped the +horses of a carriage, whose driver pulled up close at the curb and +scarce clear of the little group gathered there. The door of the coach +was opened, and at it appeared the figure of a woman, who quickly +descended from the step. + +"What is it?" she cried. "Is not this the residence of Monsieur Law?" +The officer saluted, and the few loiterers gave back and made room, as +she stepped fully into the street and advanced with decision towards +those whom she saw. + +"Madam," replied the Swiss, "this is the residence of Monsieur L'as, and +this is Monsieur L'as himself. I fear he is taken suddenly ill." + +The lady stepped quickly to his side. As she did so, Law, as one not +fully hearing, half raised his head. He looked full into her face, and +releasing himself from the arms of his servant, stood thus, staring +directly at the visitor, his face haggard, his fixed eyes bearing no +sign of actual recognition. + +"Catharine! Catharine!" he exclaimed. "Oh God, how cruel of you too to +mock me! Catharine!" + +The unspeakable yearning of the cry went to the heart of her who heard +it. She put out a hand and laid it on his forehead. The Swiss motioned +toward the house. And even as the officer wheeled his troop to depart, +these two again ascended the steps, half carrying between them a +stumbling man, who but repeated mumblingly to himself the same words: + +"Mockery! Mockery!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE QUALITY OF MERCY + + +Within the great house there was silence, for the vistas of the wide +interior led far back from the street and its tumult; nor did there +arise within the walls any sound of voice or footfall. Of the entire +household there was but one left to do the master service. + +They entered the great hall, passed the foot of the wide stairway, and +turned at the first _entresol_, where were seats and couches. The +servant paused for a moment and looked inquiringly at the lady with whom +he now found himself in company. + +"The times are serious," he began. "I would not intrude, Madame, yet +perhaps you are aware--" + +"I am a friend of monsieur," replied Lady Catharine. "He is ill. See, he +is not himself. Tell me, what is this illness?" + +"Madame," said the Swiss, gravely, "his illness is that of grief. +Monsieur's failure sits heavily upon him." + +[Illustration] + +"How long is it since he slept?" asked the lady, for she noted the +drooping head of the man now reclining upon the couch. + +"Not for many days and nights," replied the Swiss. "He has for the last +few days been under much strain. But shall I not assist you, Madame? You +are, perhaps--pardon me, since I do not know your relationship with +monsieur--" + +"A friend of years ago. I knew Mr. Law when he lived in England." + +"I perceive. Perhaps Madame would be alone for a time? If you please, I +will seek aid." + +They approached the side of the couch. Law's head lay back upon the +cushions. His breath came deeply and slowly, not stertorously nor +labored. + +"How strange," whispered the Swiss, "he sleeps!" + +Such was indeed the truth. The iron nature, so long overwrought, now +utterly unstrung, had yielded for the first time to the stress of nature +and of events. The relief from what he had taken to be death had come +swiftly, and the reaction brought a lethal calm of its own. If he had +indeed recognized the face of the woman who had touched him with her +hand, it was as though he had witnessed her in a vision, a dream bitter +and troubled, since it was a dream impossible to be true. + +The Swiss looked still hesitatingly at the lady who had thus strangely +come upon the scene, noticing her sweet and tender mouth, her cheeks +just faintly tinged with pink, her eyes shining with a soft, mysterious +radiance. She approached the couch and laid both her hands upon the face +of the unconscious man. Tears sprang within her eyes and fell from her +dark lashes. The old servant looked up at her, simply. + +"Madame would be alone with monsieur?" asked he. "It will be better." + +Lady Catharine Knollys, left alone, gazed upon the sleeper. John Law, +the failure, lay there, supine, abased, cast-down, undone, shorn utterly +of his old arrogance of mind and mien. Fortune, wealth, even the boon of +physical well-being--all had fled from him. The pride of a superb +manhood had departed from the lines of this limp figure. The cheeks were +lined and sunken, the eye, even had the lid not covered it, lacked the +late convincing fire. No longer commanding, no longer strong, no longer +gay and debonair, he lay, a man whose fate was failure, as he himself +had said. + +The woman who stood with clasped hands, gazing at him, tears welling in +her eyes--she, so closely linked to his every thought for these many +years--well enough she knew the story of his boundless ambitions, now so +swiftly ended. Well enough, too, she knew the shortcomings of this +mortal man before her. Even as she had in her mirror looked into her own +soul, so now she saw deep into his heart as he lay there, helpless, +making no further plea for himself, urging no claim, making no +explanations nor denials, no asseverations, no promises. Did she indeed +see and recognize again, as sometimes gloriously happens in this poor +life of ours, that other and inner man, the only one fit to touch a +woman's hand--the man who might have been? Did she see this, and greet +again the friend of long ago? God, who hath given mercy, remedy alone +sufficing for the ill that men may do, He alone may know these things. + +Could John Law failing be John Law succeeding, and in his most sublime +success? Upon the wreck and ruin of the old nature could there grow +another and a better man? Mayhap the answer to this was what the eye of +woman saw. How else could there have come into this great room, so late +the scene of turbulent activities, this vast and soothing calm? How else +could this man's breath come now so deep and regular and content? The +angels of God may know, they who drop down the gentle dew of heaven. + +An hour passed by. A soft tread came to the door, but Henri heard no +sound, and saw only the prone figure of the sleeper, and beside it the +form of the woman, who still held his hand in her own. Still the hours +wore on, and still the watch continued, there under the mysteries of +Life and of Love, of Mercy and of Forgiveness. And so at last the gray +dawn broke again. The panes of the high mullioned windows were tinged +with splashes of color. The pale light crept into the room, slowly +revealing and lighting up its splendors. + +With the dawn there came into the heart of Catharine Knollys a flood of +light and joy. Why, she knew not; how, she cared not; yet she knew that +the shadows were gone. The same tide of peace and calm might have swept +into the bosom of the man before her. He stirred, moved. His eyes opened +wide, in their gaze wonder and disbelief, yet hope and longing. + +"Catharine," he murmured, "Catharine! Is it you? Catharine! Dear Kate!" + +She bent over and softly kissed his face. "Dear heart," she whispered, +"I have loved you always. Awake. The day has come. There is another +world before us. See, I have come to you, dear heart, for Faith, and for +Love, and for Hope!" + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14001 *** |