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diff --git a/14355-h/14355-h.htm b/14355-h/14355-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..41d74e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/14355-h/14355-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9055 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of 54-40 or Fight, by Emerson Hough</title> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; font-size: smaller; text-align: right;} /* page numbers */ + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span {display: block; margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em;} + hr.full { width: 100%; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + pre {font-size: 8pt;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14355 ***</div> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, 54-40 or Fight, by Emerson Hough, Illustrated +by Arthur I. Keller</h1> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<div class="figcenter"><a href="images/001.jpg"><img src= +"images/001.jpg" width="45%" alt="" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"Madam," said I, "let me, at least, alone." <a href= +"#page_049">Page 49</a>.</b> +<br /></div> +<h1>54-40 or Fight</h1> +<h2>By Emerson Hough</h2> +<h5>Author of</h5> +<div> +<h4><i>The Mississippi Bubble</i>, <i>The Way of the Man</i>,<br /> +etc.</h4> +</div> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<img src="images/002.png" width="10%" alt="" title="" /></div> +<h5>WITH FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS</h5> +<h4>BY ARTHUR I. KELLER</h4> +<h6>A. L. Burt Company<br /> +Publishers -- New York</h6> + +<h4>1909</h4> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center"><small>TO</small><br /> +<b><i>Theodore Roosevelt</i></b><br /> +<br /> +<small>PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES<br /> +AND FIRM BELIEVER IN THE RULE OF THE PEOPLE<br /> +<br /> +THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED<br /> +WITH THE LOYALTY AND ADMIRATION<br /> +OF THE AUTHOR</small></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<div class="center"> +<table summary=""> +<tr> +<td align="right">CHAPTER</td> +<td> </td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_I">THE MAKERS OF MAPS</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_II">BY SPECIAL DESPATCH</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_III">IN ARGUMENT</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_IV">THE BARONESS HELENA</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_V">ONE OF THE WOMEN IN THE +CASE</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_VI">THE BOUDOIR OF THE +BARONESS</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_VII">REGARDING ELISABETH</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">MR. CALHOUN +ACCEPTS</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_IX">A KETTLE OF FISH</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_X">MIXED DUTIES</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XI">WHO GIVETH THIS +WOMAN</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XII">THE MARATHON</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">ON SECRET SERVICE</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">THE OTHER WOMAN</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XV">WITH MADAM THE +BARONESS</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">DÉJEÛNER A LA +FOURCHETTE</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">A HUNTER OF +BUTTERFLIES</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">THE MISSING +SLIPPER</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">THE GENTLEMAN FROM +TENNESSEE</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XX">THE LADY FROM MEXICO</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">POLITICS UNDER +COVER</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">BUT YET A WOMAN</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">SUCCESS IN SILK</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">THE WHOA-HAW TRAIL</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">OREGON</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">THE DEBATED +COUNTRY</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">IN THE CABIN OF +MADAM</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">WHEN A WOMAN +WOULD</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">IN EXCHANGE</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">COUNTER CURRENTS</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">THE PAYMENT</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">PAKENHAM'S PRICE</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">THE STORY OF HELENA VON +RITZ</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">THE VICTORY</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">XXXV</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">THE PROXY OF +PAKENHAM</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">XXXVI</a></td> +<td> <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">THE PALO ALTO +BALL</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> </td> +<td> <a href="#EPILOGUE">EPILOGUE</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div> +<h1>FIFTY-FOUR FORTY<br /> +OR FIGHT</h1> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>THE MAKERS OF MAPS</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>There is scarcely a single cause in which a woman is not engaged +in some way fomenting the suit.—<i>Juvenal</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>"Then you offer me no hope, Doctor?" The gray mane of Doctor +Samuel Ward waved like a fighting crest as he made answer:</p> +<p>"Not the sort of hope you ask." A moment later he added: "John, +I am ashamed of you."</p> +<p>The cynical smile of the man I called my chief still remained +upon his lips, the same drawn look of suffering still remained upon +his gaunt features; but in his blue eye I saw a glint which proved +that the answer of his old friend had struck out some unused spark +of vitality from the deep, cold flint of his heart.</p> +<p>"I never knew you for a coward, Calhoun," went on Doctor Ward, +"nor any of your family I give you now the benefit of my personal +acquaintance with this generation of the Calhouns. I ask something +more of you than faint-heartedness."</p> +<p>The keen eyes turned upon him again with the old flame of flint +which a generation had known—a generation, for the most part, +of enemies. On my chief's face I saw appear again the fighting +flush, proof of his hard-fibered nature, ever ready to rejoin with +challenge when challenge came.</p> +<p>"Did not Saul fall upon his own sword?" asked John Calhoun. +"Have not devoted leaders from the start of the world till now +sometimes rid the scene of the responsible figures in lost fights, +the men on whom blame rested for failures?"</p> +<p>"Cowards!" rejoined Doctor Ward. "Cowards, every one of them! +Were there not other swords upon which they might have +fallen—those of their enemies?"</p> +<p>"It is not my own hand—my own sword, Sam," said Calhoun. +"Not that. You know as well as I that I am already marked and +doomed, even as I sit at my table to-night. A walk of a wet night +here in Washington—a turn along the Heights out there when +the winter wind is keen—yes, Sam, I see my grave before me, +close enough; but how can I rest easy in that grave? Man, we have +not yet dreamed how great a country this may be. We <i>must</i> +have Texas. We <i>must</i> have also Oregon. We must +have—"</p> +<p>"Free?" The old doctor shrugged his shoulders and smiled at the +arch pro-slavery exponent.</p> +<p>"Then, since you mention it, yes!" retorted Calhoun fretfully. +"But I shall not go into the old argument of those who say that +black is white, that South is North. It is only for my own race +that I plan a wider America. But then—" Calhoun raised a +long, thin hand. "Why," he went on slowly, "I have just told you +that I have failed. And yet you, my old friend, whom I ought to +trust, condemn me to live on!"</p> +<p>Doctor Samuel Ward took snuff again, but all the answer he made +was to waggle his gray mane and stare hard at the face of the +other.</p> +<p>"Yes," said he, at length, "I condemn you to fight on, John;" +and he smiled grimly.</p> +<p>"Why, look at you, man!" he broke out fiercely, after a moment. +"The type and picture of combat! Good bone, fine bone and hard; a +hard head and bony; little eye, set deep; strong, wiry muscles, not +too big—fighting muscles, not dough; clean limbs; strong +fingers; good arms, legs, neck; wide chest—"</p> +<p>"Then you give me hope?" Calhoun flashed a smile at him.</p> +<p>"No, sir! If you do your duty, there is no hope for you to live. +If you do not do your duty, there is no hope for you to die, John +Calhoun, for more than two years to come—perhaps five +years—six. Keep up this work—as you must, my +friend—and you die as surely as though I shot you through as +you sit there. Now, is this any comfort to you?"</p> +<p>A gray pallor overspread my master's face. That truth is welcome +to no man, morbid or sane, sound or ill; but brave men meet it as +this one did.</p> +<p>"Time to do much!" he murmured to himself. "Time to mend many +broken vessels, in those two years. One more fight—yes, let +us have it!"</p> +<p>But Calhoun the man was lost once more in Calhoun the visionary, +the fanatic statesman. He summed up, as though to himself, +something of the situation which then existed at Washington.</p> +<p>"Yes, the coast is clearer, now that Webster is out of the +cabinet, but Mr. Upshur's death last month brings in new +complications. Had he remained our secretary of state, much might +have been done. It was only last October he proposed to Texas a +treaty of annexation."</p> +<p>"Yes, and found Texas none so eager," frowned Doctor Ward.</p> +<p>"No; and why not? You and I know well enough. Sir Richard +Pakenham, the English plenipotentiary here, could tell if he liked. +<i>England</i> is busy with Texas. Texas owes large funds to +<i>England. England</i> wants Texas as a colony. There is fire +under this smoky talk of Texas dividing into two governments, one, +at least, under England's gentle and unselfish care!</p> +<p>"And now, look you," Calhoun continued, rising, and pacing up +and down, "look what is the evidence. Van Zandt, <i>chargé +d'affaires</i> in Washington for the Republic of Texas, wrote +Secretary Upshur only a month before Upshur's death, and told him +to go carefully or he would drive Mexico to resume the war, <i>and +so cost Texas the friendship of England!</i> Excellent Mr. Van +Zandt! I at least know what the friendship of England means. So, he +asks us if we will protect Texas with troops and ships in case she +<i>does</i> sign that agreement of annexation. Cunning Mr. Van +Zandt! He knows what that answer must be to-day, with England ready +to fight us for Texas and Oregon both, and we wholly unready for +war. Cunning Mr. Van Zandt, covert friend of England! And lucky Mr. +Upshur, who was killed, and so never had to make that answer!"</p> +<p>"But, John, another will have to make it, the one way or the +other," said his friend.</p> +<p>"Yes!" The long hand smote on the table.</p> +<p>"President Tyler has offered you Mr. Upshur's portfolio as +secretary of state?"</p> +<p>"Yes!" The long hand smote again.</p> +<p>Doctor Ward made no comment beyond a long whistle, as he +recrossed his legs. His eyes were fixed on Calhoun's frowning face. +"There will be events!" said he at length, grinning.</p> +<p>"I have not yet accepted," said Calhoun. "If I do, it will be to +bring Texas and Oregon into this Union, one slave, the other free, +but both vast and of a mighty future for us. That done, I resign at +once."</p> +<p>"Will you accept?"</p> +<p>Calhoun's answer was first to pick up a paper from his desk. +"See, here is the despatch Mr. Pakenham brought from Lord Aberdeen +of the British ministry to Mr. Upshur just two days before his +death. Judge whether Aberdeen wants liberty—or territory! In +effect he reasserts England's right to interfere in our affairs. We +fought one war to disprove that. England has said enough on this +continent. And England has meddled enough."</p> +<p>Calhoun and Ward looked at each other, sober in their +realization of the grave problems which then beset American +statesmanship and American thought. The old doctor was first to +break the silence. "Then do you accept? Will you serve again, +John?"</p> +<p>"Listen to me. If I do accept, I shall take Mr. Upshur's and Mr. +Nelson's place only on one condition—yes, if I do, here is +what <i>I</i> shall say to England regarding Texas. I shall show +her what a Monroe Doctrine is; shall show her that while Texas is +small and weak, Texas <i>and</i> this republic are not. This is +what I have drafted as a possible reply. I shall tell Mr. Pakenham +that his chief's avowal of intentions has made it our <i>imperious +duty</i>, in self-defense, to hasten the annexation of Texas, cost +what it may, mean what it may! John Calhoun does not +shilly-shally.</p> +<p>"<i>That</i> will be my answer," repeated my chief at last. +Again they looked gravely, each into the other's eye, each knowing +what all this might mean.</p> +<p>"Yes, I shall have Texas, as I shall have Oregon, settled before +I lay down my arms, Sam Ward. No, I am <i>not</i> yet ready to +die!" Calhoun's old fire now flamed in all his mien.</p> +<p>"The situation is extremely difficult," said his friend slowly. +"It must be done; but how? We are as a nation not ready for war. +You as a statesman are not adequate to the politics of all this. +Where is your political party, John? You have none. You have outrun +all parties. It will be your ruin, that you have been honest!"</p> +<p>Calhoun turned on him swiftly. "You know as well as I that mere +politics will not serve. It will take some extraordinary +measure—you know men—and, perhaps, <i>women</i>."</p> +<p>"Yes," said Doctor Ward, "and a precious silly lot: they are; +the two running after each other and forgetting each other; using +and wasting each other; ruining and despoiling each other, all the +years, from Troy to Rome! But yes! For a man, set a woman for a +trap. <i>Vice versa</i>, I suppose?"</p> +<p>Calhoun nodded, with a thin smile. "As it chances, I need a man. +Ergo, and very plainly, I must use a woman!"</p> +<p>They looked at each other for a moment. That Calhoun planned +some deep-laid stratagem was plain, but his speech for the time +remained enigmatic, even to his most intimate companion.</p> +<p>"There are two women in our world to-day," said Calhoun. "As to +Jackson, the old fool was a monogamist, and still is. Not so much +so Jim Polk of Tennessee. Never does he appear in public with eyes +other than for the Doña Lucrezia of the Mexican legation! +Now, one against the other—Mexico against Austria—"</p> +<p>Doctor Ward raised his eyebrows in perplexity.</p> +<p>"That is to say, England, and <i>not</i> Austria," went on +Calhoun coldly. "The ambassadress of England to America was born in +Budapest! So I say, Austria; or perhaps Hungary, or some other +country, which raised this strange representative who has made some +stir in Washington here these last few weeks."</p> +<p>"Ah, <i>you mean the baroness!</i>" exclaimed Doctor Ward. "Tut! +Tut!"</p> +<p>Calhoun nodded, with the same cold, thin smile. "Yes," he said, +"I mean Mr. Pakenham's reputed mistress, his assured secret agent +and spy, the beautiful Baroness von Ritz!"</p> +<p>He mentioned a name then well known in diplomatic and social +life, when intrigue in Washington, if not open, was none too well +hidden.</p> +<p>"Gay Sir Richard!" he resumed. "You know, his ancestor was a +brother-in-law of the Duke of Wellington. He himself seems to have +absorbed some of the great duke's fondness for the fair. Before he +came to us he was with England's legation in Mexico. 'Twas there he +first met the Doña Lucrezia. 'Tis said he would have +remained in Mexico had it not been arranged that she and her +husband, Señor Yturrio, should accompany General Almonte in +the Mexican ministry here. On <i>these</i> conditions, Sir Richard +agreed to accept promotion as minister plenipotentiary to +Washington!"</p> +<p>"That was nine years ago," commented Doctor Ward.</p> +<p>"Yes; and it was only last fall that he was made envoy +extraordinary. He is at least an extraordinary envoy! Near fifty +years of age, he seems to forget public decency; he forgets even +the Doña Lucrezia, leaving her to the admiration of Mr. Polk +and Mr. Van Zandt, and follows off after the sprightly Baroness von +Ritz. Meantime, Señor Yturrio <i>also</i> forgets the +Doña Lucrezia, and proceeds <i>also</i> to follow after the +baroness—although with less hope than Sir Richard, as they +say! At least Pakenham has taste! The Baroness von Ritz has brains +and beauty both. It is <i>she</i> who is England's real envoy. Now, +I believe she knows England's real intentions as to Texas."</p> +<p>Doctor Ward screwed his lips for a long whistle, as he +contemplated John Calhoun's thin, determined face.</p> +<p>"I do not care at present to say more," went on my chief; "but +do you not see, granted certain motives, Polk might come into power +pledged to the extension of our Southwest borders—"</p> +<p>"Calhoun, are you mad?" cried his friend. "Would you plunge this +country into war? Would you pit two peoples, like cocks on a floor? +And would you use women in our diplomacy?"</p> +<p>Calhoun now was no longer the friend, the humanitarian. He was +the relentless machine; the idea; the single purpose, which to the +world at large he had been all his life in Congress, in cabinets, +on this or the other side of the throne of American power. He spoke +coldly as he went on:</p> +<p>"In these matters it is not a question of means, but of results. +If war comes, let it come; although I hope it will not come. As to +the use of women—tell me, <i>why not women?</i> Why anything +<i>else</i> but women? It is only playing life against life; one +variant against another. That is politics, my friend. I <i>want</i> +Pakenham. So, I must learn what <i>Pakenham</i> wants! Does he want +Texas for England, or the Baroness von Ritz <i>for +himself?</i>"</p> +<p>Ward still sat and looked at him. "My God!" said he at last, +softly; but Calhoun went on:</p> +<p>"Why, who has made the maps of the world, and who has written +pages in its history? Who makes and unmakes cities and empires and +republics to-day? <i>Woman</i>, and not man! Are you so +ignorant—and you a physician, who know them both? Gad, man, +you do not understand your own profession, and yet you seek to +counsel me in mine!"</p> +<p>"Strange words from you, John," commented his friend, shaking +his head; "not seemly for a man who stands where you stand +to-day."</p> +<p>"Strange weapons—yes. If I could always use my old weapons +of tongue and brain, I would not need these, perhaps. Now you tell +me my time is short. I must fight now to win. I have never fought +to lose. I can not be too nice in agents and instruments."</p> +<p>The old doctor rose and took a turn up and down the little room, +one of Calhoun's modest ménage at the nation's capital, +which then was not the city it is to-day. Calhoun followed him with +even steps.</p> +<p>"Changes of maps, my friend? Listen to me. The geography of +America for the next fifty years rests under a little roof over in +M Street to-night—a roof which Sir Richard secretly +maintains. The map of the United States, I tell you, is covered +with a down counterpane <i>à deux</i>, to-night. You ask me +to go on with my fight. I answer, first I must find the woman. Now, +I say, I have found her, as you know. Also, I have told you +<i>where</i> I have found her. Under a counterpane! Texas, Oregon, +these United States under a counterpane!"</p> +<p>Doctor Ward sighed, as he shook his head. "I don't pretend to +know now all you mean."</p> +<p>Calhoun whirled on him fiercely, with a vigor which his wasted +frame did not indicate as possible.</p> +<p>"Listen, then, and I will tell you what John Calhoun +means—John Calhoun, who has loved his own state, who has +hated those who hated him, who has never prayed for those who +despitefully used him, who has fought and will fight, since all +insist on that. It is true Tyler has offered me again to-day the +portfolio of secretary of state. Shall I take it? If I do, it means +that I am employed by this administration to secure the admission +of Texas. Can you believe me when I tell you that my ambition is +for it all—<i>all</i>, every foot of new land, west to the +Pacific, that we can get, slave <i>or</i> free? Can you believe +John Calhoun, pro-slavery advocate and orator all his life, when he +says that he believes he is an humble instrument destined, with +God's aid, and through the use of such instruments as our human +society affords, to build, <i>not</i> a wider slave country, but a +wider America?"</p> +<p>"It would be worth the fight of a few years more, Calhoun," +gravely answered his old friend. "I admit I had not dreamed this of +you."</p> +<p>"History will not write it of me, perhaps," went on my chief. +"But you tell me to fight, and now I shall fight, and in my own +way. I tell you, that answer shall go to Pakenham. And I tell you, +Pakenham shall not <i>dare</i> take offense at me. War with Mexico +we possibly, indeed certainly, shall have. War on the Northwest, +too, we yet may have unless—" He paused; and Doctor Ward +prompted him some moments later, as he still remained in +thought.</p> +<p>"Unless what, John? What do you mean—still hearing the +rustle of skirts?"</p> +<p>"Yes!—unless the celebrated Baroness Helena von Ritz says +otherwise!" replied he grimly.</p> +<p>"How dignified a diplomacy have we here! You plan war between +two embassies on the distaff side!" smiled Doctor Ward.</p> +<p>Calhoun continued his walk. "I do not say so," he made answer; +"but, if there must be war, we may reflect that war is at its best +when woman <i>is</i> in the field!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>BY SPECIAL DESPATCH</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>In all eras and all climes a woman of great genius or beauty has +done what she chose.—<i>Ouido</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>"Nicholas," said Calhoun, turning to me suddenly, but with his +invariable kindliness of tone, "oblige me to-night. I have written +a message here. You will see the address—"</p> +<p>"I have unavoidably heard this lady's name," I hesitated.</p> +<p>"You will find the lady's name above the seal. Take her this +message from me. Yes, your errand is to bring the least known and +most talked of woman in Washington, alone, unattended save by +yourself, to a gentleman's apartments, to his house, at a time past +the hour of midnight! That gentleman is myself! You must not take +any answer in the negative."</p> +<p>As I sat dumbly, holding this sealed document in my hand, he +turned to Doctor Ward, with a nod toward myself.</p> +<p>"I choose my young aide, Mr. Trist here, for good reasons. He is +just back from six months in the wilderness, and may be shy; but +once he had a way with women, so they tell me—and you know, +in approaching the question <i>ad feminam</i> we operate <i>per +hominem</i>."</p> +<p>Doctor Ward took snuff with violence as he regarded me +critically.</p> +<p>"I do not doubt the young man's sincerity and faithfulness," +said he. "I was only questioning one thing."</p> +<p>"Yes?"</p> +<p>"His age."</p> +<p>Calhoun rubbed his chin. "Nicholas," said he, "you heard me. I +have no wish to encumber you with useless instructions. Your errand +is before you. Very much depends upon it, as you have heard. All I +can say is, keep your head, keep your feet, and keep your +heart!"</p> +<p>The two older men both turned now, and smiled at me in a manner +not wholly to my liking. Neither was this errand to my liking.</p> +<p>It was true, I was hardly arrived home after many months in the +West; but I had certain plans of my own for that very night, and +although as yet I had made no definite engagement with my +fiancée, Miss Elisabeth Churchill, of Elmhurst Farm, for +meeting her at the great ball this night, such certainly was my +desire and my intention. Why, I had scarce seen Elisabeth twice in +the last year.</p> +<p>"How now, Nick, my son?" began my chief. "Have staff and scrip +been your portion so long that you are wholly wedded to them? Come, +I think the night might promise you something of interest. I assure +you of one thing—you will receive no willing answer from the +fair baroness. She will scoff at you, and perhaps bid you farewell. +See to it, then; do what you like, but bring her <i>with</i> you, +and bring her <i>here</i>.</p> +<p>"You will realize the importance of all this when I tell you +that my answer to Mr. Tyler must be in before noon to-morrow. That +answer will depend upon the answer the Baroness von Ritz makes to +<i>me</i>, here, to-night! I can not go to her, so she must come to +me. You have often served me well, my son. Serve me to-night. My +time is short; I have no moves to lose. It is you who will decide +before morning whether or not John Calhoun is the next secretary of +state. And that will decide whether or not Texas is to be a state." +I had never seen Mr. Calhoun so intent, so absorbed.</p> +<p>We all three now sat silent in the little room where the candles +guttered in the great glass <i>cylindres</i> on the mantel—an +apartment scarce better lighted by the further aid of lamps fed by +oil.</p> +<p>"He might be older," said Calhoun at length, speaking of me as +though I were not present. "And 'tis a hard game to play, if once +my lady Helena takes it into her merry head to make it so for him. +But if I sent one shorter of stature and uglier of visage and with +less art in approaching a crinoline—why, perhaps he would get +no farther than her door. No; he will serve—he <i>must</i> +serve!"</p> +<p>He arose now, and bowed to us both, even as I rose and turned +for my cloak to shield me from the raw drizzle which then was +falling in the streets. Doctor Ward reached down his own shaggy top +hat from the rack.</p> +<p>"To bed with you now, John," said he sternly.</p> +<p>"No, I must write."</p> +<p>"You heard me say, to bed with you! A stiff toddy to make you +sleep. Nicholas here may wake you soon enough with his mysterious +companion. I think to-morrow will be time enough for you to work, +and to-morrow very likely will bring work for you to do."</p> +<p>Calhoun sighed. "God!" he exclaimed, "if I but had back my +strength! If there were more than those scant remaining years!"</p> +<p>"Go!" said he suddenly; and so we others passed down his step +and out into the semi-lighted streets.</p> +<p>So this, then, was my errand. My mind still tingled at its +unwelcome quality. Doctor Ward guessed something of my mental +dissatisfaction.</p> +<p>"Never mind, Nicholas," said he, as we parted at the street +corner, where he climbed into the rickety carriage which his +colored driver held awaiting him. "Never mind. I don't myself quite +know what Calhoun wants; but he would not ask of you anything +personally improper. Do his errand, then. It is part of your work. +In any case—" and I thought I saw him grin in the dim +light—"you may have a night which you will remember."</p> +<p>There proved to be truth in what he said.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>IN ARGUMENT</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>The egotism of women is always for two.—<i>Mme. De +Stäel</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>The thought of missing my meeting with Elisabeth still rankled +in my soul. Had it been another man who asked me to carry this +message, I must have refused. But this man was my master, my chief, +in whose service I had engaged.</p> +<p>Strange enough it may seem to give John Calhoun any title +showing love or respect. To-day most men call him +traitor—call him the man responsible for the war between +North and South—call him the arch apostle of that impossible +doctrine of slavery, which we all now admit was wrong. Why, then, +should I love him as I did? I can not say, except that I always +loved, honored and admired courage, uprightness, integrity.</p> +<p>For myself, his agent, I had, as I say, left the old Trist +homestead at the foot of South Mountain in Maryland, to seek my +fortune in our capital city. I had had some three or four years' +semi-diplomatic training when I first met Calhoun and entered his +service as assistant. It was under him that I finished my studies +in law. Meantime, I was his messenger in very many quests, his +source of information in many matters where he had no time to go +into details.</p> +<p>Strange enough had been some of the circumstances in which I +found myself thrust through this relation with a man so intimately +connected for a generation with our public life. Adventures were +always to my liking, and surely I had my share. I knew the frontier +marches of Tennessee and Alabama, the intricacies of politics of +Ohio and New York, mixed as those things were in Tyler's time. I +had even been as far west as the Rockies, of which young +Frémont was now beginning to write so understandingly. For +six months I had been in Mississippi and Texas studying matters and +men, and now, just back from Natchitoches, I felt that I had earned +some little rest.</p> +<p>But there was the fascination of it—that big game of +politics. No, I will call it by its better name of statesmanship, +which sometimes it deserved in those days, as it does not to-day. +That was a day of Warwicks. The nominal rulers did not hold the +greatest titles. Naturally, I knew something of these things, from +the nature of my work in Calhoun's office. I have had insight into +documents which never became public. I have seen treaties made. I +have seen the making of maps go forward. This, indeed, I was in +part to see that very night, and curiously, too.</p> +<p>How the Baroness von Ritz—beautiful adventuress as she was +sometimes credited with being, charming woman as she was elsewhere +described, fascinating and in some part dangerous to any man, as +all admitted—could care to be concerned with this purely +political question of our possible territories, I was not shrewd +enough at that moment in advance to guess; for I had nothing more +certain than the rumor she was England's spy. I bided my time, +knowing that ere long the knowledge must come to me in Calhoun's +office even in case I did not first learn more than Calhoun +himself.</p> +<p>Vaguely in my conscience I felt that, after all, my errand was +justified, even though at some cost to my own wishes and my own +pride. The farther I walked in the dark along Pennsylvania Avenue, +into which finally I swung after I had crossed Rock Bridge, the +more I realized that perhaps this big game was worth playing in +detail and without quibble as the master mind should dictate. As he +was servant of a purpose, of an ideal of triumphant democracy, why +should not I also serve in a cause so splendid?</p> +<p>I was, indeed, young—Nicholas Trist, of Maryland; six feet +tall, thin, lean, always hungry, perhaps a trifle freckled, a +little sandy of hair, blue I suppose of eye, although I am not +sure; good rider and good marcher, I know; something of an expert +with the weapons of my time and people; fond of a horse and a dog +and a rifle—yes, and a glass and a girl, if truth be told. I +was not yet thirty, in spite of my western travels. At that age the +rustle of silk or dimity, the suspicion of adventure, tempts the +worst or the best of us, I fear. Woman!—the very sound of the +word made my blood leap then. I went forward rather blithely, as I +now blush to confess. "If there are maps to be made to-night," said +I, "the Baroness Helena shall do her share in writing on my chief's +old mahogany desk, and not on her own dressing case."</p> +<p>That was an idle boast, though made but to myself. I had not yet +met the woman.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>THE BARONESS HELENA</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Woman is seldom merciful to the man who is timid.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;">—<i>Edward Bulwer +Lytton</i>.</span></p> +</div> +<p>There was one of our dim street lights at a central corner on +old Pennsylvania Avenue, and under it, after a long walk, I paused +for a glance at the inscription on my sealed document. I had not +looked at it before in the confusion of my somewhat hurried mental +processes. In addition to the name and street number, in Calhoun's +writing, I read this memorandum: "Knock at the third door in the +second block beyond M Street"</p> +<p>I recalled the nearest cross street; but I must confess the +direction still seemed somewhat cryptic. Puzzled, I stood under the +lamp, shielding the face of the note under my cloak to keep off the +rain, as I studied it.</p> +<p>The sound of wheels behind me on the muddy pavement called my +attention, and I looked about. A carriage came swinging up to the +curb where I stood. It was driven rapidly, and as it approached the +door swung open. I heard a quick word, and the driver pulled up his +horses. I saw the light shine through the door on a glimpse of +white satin. I looked again. Yes, it was a beckoning hand! The +negro driver looked at me inquiringly.</p> +<p>Ah, well, I suppose diplomacy under the stars runs much the same +in all ages. I have said that I loved Elisabeth, but also said I +was not yet thirty. Moreover, I was a gentleman, and here might be +a lady in need of help. I need not say that in a moment I was at +the side of the carriage. Its occupant made no exclamation of +surprise; in fact, she moved back upon the other side of the seat +in the darkness, as though to make room for me!</p> +<p>I was absorbed in a personal puzzle. Here was I, messenger upon +some important errand, as I might guess. But white satin and a +midnight adventure—at least, a gentleman might bow and ask if +he could be of assistance!</p> +<p>A dark framed face, whose outlines I could only dimly see in the +faint light of the street lamp, leaned toward me. The same small +hand nervously reached out, as though in request.</p> +<p>I now very naturally stepped closer. A pair of wide and very +dark eyes was looking into mine. I could now see her face. There +was no smile upon her lips. I had never seen her before, that was +sure—nor did I ever think to see her like again; I could say +that even then, even in the half light. Just a trifle foreign, the +face; somewhat dark, but not too dark; the lips full, the eyes +luminous, the forehead beautifully arched, chin and cheek +beautifully rounded, nose clean-cut and straight, thin but not +pinched. There was nothing niggard about her. She was +magnificent—a magnificent woman. I saw that she had splendid +jewels at her throat, in her ears—a necklace of diamonds, +long hoops of diamonds and emeralds used as ear-rings; a sparkling +clasp which caught at her white throat the wrap which she had +thrown about her ball gown—for now I saw she was in full +evening dress. I guessed she had been an attendant at the great +ball, that ball which I had missed with so keen a regret +myself—the ball where I had hoped to dance with Elisabeth. +Without doubt she had lost her way and was asking the first +stranger for instructions to her driver.</p> +<p>My lady, whoever she was, seemed pleased with her rapid +temporary scrutiny. With a faint murmur, whether of invitation or +not I scarce could tell, she drew back again to the farther side of +the seat. Before I knew how or why, I was at her side. The driver +pushed shut the door, and whipped up his team.</p> +<p>Personally I am gifted with but small imagination. In a very +matter of fact way I had got into this carriage with a strange +lady. Now in a sober and matter of fact way it appeared to me my +duty to find out the reason for this singular situation.</p> +<p>"Madam," I remarked to my companion, "in what manner can I be of +service to you this evening?"</p> +<p>I made no attempt to explain who I was, or to ask who or what +she herself was, for I had no doubt that our interview soon would +be terminated.</p> +<p>"I am fortunate that you are a gentleman," she said, in a low +and soft voice, quite distinct, quite musical in quality, and +marked with just the faintest trace of some foreign accent, +although her English was perfect.</p> +<p>I looked again at her. Yes, her hair was dark; that was sure. It +swept up in a great roll above her oval brow. Her eyes, too, must +be dark, I confirmed. Yes—as a passed lamp gave me +aid—there were strong dark brows above them. Her nose, too, +was patrician; her chin curving just strongly enough, but not too +full, and faintly cleft, a sign of power, they say.</p> +<p>A third gracious lamp gave me a glimpse of her figure, huddled +back among her draperies, and I guessed her to be about of medium +height. A fourth lamp showed me her hands, small, firm, white; also +I could catch a glimpse of her arm, as it lay outstretched, her +fingers clasping a fan. So I knew her arms were round and taper, +hence all her limbs and figure finely molded, because nature does +not do such things by halves, and makes no bungles in her symmetry +of contour when she plans a noble specimen of humanity. Here +<i>was</i> a noble specimen of what woman may be.</p> +<p>On the whole, as I must confess, I sighed rather comfortably at +the fifth street lamp; for, if my chief must intrust to me +adventures of a dark night—adventures leading to closed +carriages and strange companions—I had far liefer it should +be some such woman as this. I was not in such a hurry to ask again +how I might be of service. In fact, being somewhat surprised and +somewhat pleased, I remained silent now for a time, and let matters +adjust themselves; which is not a bad course for any one similarly +engaged.</p> +<p>She turned toward me at last, deliberately, her fan against her +lips, studying me. And I did as much, taking such advantage as I +could of the passing street lamps. Then, all at once, without +warning or apology, she smiled, showing very even and white +teeth.</p> +<p>She smiled. There came to me from the purple-colored shadows +some sort of deep perfume, strange to me. I frown at the +description of such things and such emotions, but I swear that as I +sat there, a stranger, not four minutes in companionship with this +other stranger, I felt swim up around me some sort of amber shadow, +edged with purple—the shadow, as I figured it then, being +this perfume, curious and alluring!</p> +<p>It was wet, there in the street. Why should I rebel at this +stealing charm of color or fragrance—let those name it better +who can. At least I sat, smiling to myself in my purple-amber +shadow, now in no very special hurry. And now again she smiled, +thoughtfully, rather approving my own silence, as I guessed; +perhaps because it showed no unmanly perturbation—my lack of +imagination passing for aplomb.</p> +<p>At last I could not, in politeness, keep this up further.</p> +<p>"<i>How may I serve the Baroness?</i>" said I.</p> +<p>She started back on the seat as far as she could go.</p> +<p>"How did you know?" she asked. "And who are <i>you</i>?"</p> +<p>I laughed. "I did not know, and did not guess until almost as I +began to speak; but if it comes to that, I might say I am simply an +humble gentleman of Washington here. I might be privileged to peep +in at ambassadors' balls—through the windows, at least."</p> +<p>"But you were not there—you did not see me? I never saw +you in my life until this very moment—how, then, do you know +me? Speak! At once!" Her satins rustled. I knew she was tapping a +foot on the carriage floor.</p> +<p>"Madam," I answered, laughing at her; "by this amber purple +shadow, with flecks of scarlet and pink; by this perfume which +weaves webs for me here in this carriage, I know you. The light is +poor, but it is good enough to show one who can be no one else but +the Baroness von Ritz."</p> +<p>I was in the mood to spice an adventure which had gone thus far. +Of course she thought me crazed, and drew back again in the shadow; +but when I turned and smiled, she smiled in answer—herself +somewhat puzzled.</p> +<p>"The Baroness von Ritz can not be disguised," I said; "not even +if she wore her domino."</p> +<p>She looked down at the little mask which hung from the silken +cord, and flung it from her.</p> +<p>"Oh, then, very well!" she said. "If you know who I am, who are +<i>you</i>, and why do you talk in this absurd way with me, a +stranger?"</p> +<p>"And why, Madam, do you take me up, a stranger, in this absurd +way, at midnight, on the streets of Washington?—I, who am +engaged on business for my chief?"</p> +<p>She tapped again with her foot on the carriage floor. "Tell me +who you are!" she said.</p> +<p>"Once a young planter from Maryland yonder; sometime would-be +lawyer here in Washington. It is my misfortune not to be so +distinguished in fame or beauty that my name is known by all; so I +need not tell you my name perhaps, only assuring you that I am at +your service if I may be useful."</p> +<p>"Your name!" she again demanded.</p> +<p>I told her the first one that came to my lips—I do not +remember what. It did not deceive her for a moment.</p> +<p>"Of course that is not your name," she said; "because it does +not fit you. You have me still at disadvantage."</p> +<p>"And me, Madam? You are taking me miles out of my way. How can I +help you? Do you perhaps wish to hunt mushrooms in the Georgetown +woods when morning comes? I wish that I might join you, but I +fear—"</p> +<p>"You mock me," she retorted. "Very good. Let me tell you it was +not your personal charm which attracted me when I saw you on the +pavement! `Twas because you were the only man in sight."</p> +<p>I bowed my thanks. For a moment nothing was heard save the +steady patter of hoofs on the ragged pavement. At length she went +on.</p> +<p>"I am alone. I have been followed. I was followed when I called +to you—by another carriage. I asked help of the first +gentleman I saw, having heard that Americans all are +gentlemen."</p> +<p>"True," said I; "I do not blame you. Neither do I blame the +occupant of the other carriage for following you."</p> +<p>"I pray you, leave aside such chatter!" she exclaimed.</p> +<p>"Very well, then, Madam. Perhaps the best way is for us to be +more straightforward. If I can not be of service I beg you to let +me descend, for I have business which I must execute to-night."</p> +<p>This, of course, was but tentative. I did not care to tell her +that my business was with herself. It seemed almost unbelievable to +me that chance should take this turn.</p> +<p>She dismissed this with an impatient gesture, and continued.</p> +<p>"See, I am alone," she said. "Come with me. Show me my +way—I will pay—I will pay anything in reason." Actually +I saw her fumble at her purse, and the hot blood flew to my +forehead.</p> +<p>"What you ask of me, Madam, is impossible," said I, with what +courtesy I could summon. "You oblige me now to tell my real name. I +have told you that I am an American gentleman—Mr. Nicholas +Trist. We of this country do not offer our services to ladies for +the sake of pay. But do not be troubled over any mistake—it +is nothing. Now, you have perhaps had some little adventure in +which you do not wish to be discovered. In any case, you ask me to +shake off that carriage which follows us. If that is all, Madam, it +very easily can be arranged."</p> +<p>"Hasten, then," she said. "I leave it to you. I was sure you +knew the city."</p> +<p>I turned and gazed back through the rear window of the carriage. +True, there was another vehicle following us. We were by this time +nearly at the end of Washington's limited pavements. It would be +simple after that. I leaned out and gave our driver some brief +orders. We led our chase across the valley creeks on up the +Georgetown hills, and soon as possible abandoned the last of the +pavement, and took to the turf, where the sound of our wheels was +dulled. Rapidly as we could we passed on up the hill, until we +struck a side street where there was no paving. Into this we +whipped swiftly, following the flank of the hill, our going, which +was all of earth or soft turf, now well wetted by the rain. When at +last we reached a point near the summit of the hill, I stopped to +listen. Hearing nothing, I told the driver to pull down the hill by +the side street, and to drive slowly. When we finally came into our +main street again at the foot of the Georgetown hills, not far from +the little creek which divided that settlement from the main city, +I could hear nowhere any sound of our pursuer.</p> +<p>"Madam," said I, turning to her; "I think we may safely say we +are alone. What, now, is your wish?"</p> +<p>"Home!" she said.</p> +<p>"And where is home?"</p> +<p>She looked at me keenly for a time, as though to read some +thought which perhaps she saw suggested either in the tone of my +voice or in some glimpse she might have caught of my features as +light afforded. For the moment she made no answer.</p> +<p>"Is it here?" suddenly I asked her, presenting to her inspection +the sealed missive which I bore.</p> +<p>"I can not see; it is quite dark," she said hurriedly.</p> +<p>"Pardon me, then—" I fumbled for my case of lucifers, and +made a faint light by which she might read. The flare of the match +lit up her face perfectly, bringing out the framing roll of thick +dark hair, from which, as a high light in a mass of shadows, the +clear and yet strong features of her face showed plainly. I saw the +long lashes drooped above her dark eyes, as she bent over +studiously. At first the inscription gave her no information. She +pursed her lips and shook her head.</p> +<p>"I do not recognize the address," said she, smiling, as she +turned toward me.</p> +<p>"Is it this door on M Street, as you go beyond this other +street?" I asked her. "Come—think!"</p> +<p>Then I thought I saw the flush deepen on her face, even as the +match flickered and failed.</p> +<p>I leaned out of the door and called to the negro driver. "Home, +now, boy—and drive fast!"</p> +<p>She made no protest.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>ONE OF THE WOMEN IN THE CASE</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>There is a woman at the beginning of all great things.<br /> +<span style= +"margin-left: 19em;">—<i>Lamartine</i>.</span></p> +</div> +<p>A quarter of an hour later, we slowed down on a rough brick +pavement, which led toward what then was an outlying portion of the +town—one not precisely shabby, but by no means fashionable. +There was a single lamp stationed at the mouth of the narrow little +street. As we advanced, I could see outlined upon our right, just +beyond a narrow pavement of brick, a low and not more than +semi-respectable house, or rather, row of houses; tenements for the +middle class or poor, I might have said. The neighborhood, I knew +from my acquaintance with the city, was respectable enough, yet it +was remote, and occupied by none of any station. Certainly it was +not to be considered fit residence for a woman such as this who sat +beside me. I admit I was puzzled. The strange errand of my chief +now assumed yet more mystery, in spite of his forewarnings.</p> +<p>"This will do," said she softly, at length. The driver already +had pulled up.</p> +<p>So, then, I thought, she had been here before. But why? Could +this indeed be her residence? Was she incognita here? Was this +indeed the covert embassy of England?</p> +<p>There was no escape from the situation as it lay before me. I +had no time to ponder. Had the circumstances been otherwise, then +in loyalty to Elisabeth I would have handed my lady out, bowed her +farewell at her own gate, and gone away, pondering only the +adventures into which the beckoning of a white hand and the +rustling of a silken skirt betimes will carry a man, if he dares or +cares to go. Now, I might not leave. My duty was here. This was my +message; here was she for whom it was intended; and this was the +place which I was to have sought alone. I needed only to remember +that my business was not with Helena von Ritz the woman, beautiful, +fascinating, perhaps dangerous as they said of her, but with the +Baroness von Ritz, in the belief of my chief the ally and something +more than ally of Pakenham, in charge of England's fortunes on this +continent. I did remember my errand and the gravity of it. I did +not remember then, as I did later, that I was young.</p> +<p>I descended at the edge of the narrow pavement, and was about to +hand her out at the step, but as I glanced down I saw that the rain +had left a puddle of mud between the carriage and the walk.</p> +<p>"Pardon, Madam," I said; "allow me to make a light for +you—the footing is bad."</p> +<p>I lighted another lucifer, just as she hesitated at the step. +She made as though to put out her right foot, and withdrew it. +Again she shifted, and extended her left foot. I faintly saw proof +that nature had carried out her scheme of symmetry, and had not +allowed wrist and arm to forswear themselves! I saw also that this +foot was clad in the daintiest of white slippers, suitable enough +as part of her ball costume, as I doubted not was this she wore. +She took my hand without hesitation, and rested her weight upon the +step—an adorable ankle now more frankly revealed. The +briefness of the lucifers was merciful or merciless, as you +like.</p> +<p>"A wide step, Madam; be careful," I suggested. But still she +hesitated.</p> +<p>A laugh, half of annoyance, half of amusement, broke from her +lips. As the light flickered down, she made as though to take the +step; then, as luck would have it, a bit of her loose drapery, +which was made in the wide-skirted and much-hooped fashion of the +time, caught at the hinge of the carriage door. It was a chance +glance, and not intent on my part, but I saw that her other foot +was stockinged, but not shod!</p> +<p>"I beg Madam's pardon," I said gravely, looking aside, "but she +has perhaps not noticed that her other slipper is lost in the +carriage."</p> +<p>"Nonsense!" she said. "Allow me your hand across to the walk, +please. It is lost, yes."</p> +<p>"But lost—where?" I began.</p> +<p>"In the other carriage!" she exclaimed, and laughed freely.</p> +<p>Half hopping, she was across the walk, through the narrow gate, +and up at the door before I could either offer an arm or ask for an +explanation. Some whim, however, seized her; some feeling that in +fairness she ought to tell me now part at least of the reason for +her summoning me to her aid.</p> +<p>"Sir," she said, even as her hand reached up to the door +knocker; "I admit you have acted as a gentleman should. I do not +know what your message may be, but I doubt not it is meant for me. +Since you have this much claim on my hospitality, even at this +hour, I think I must ask you to step within. There may be some +answer needed."</p> +<p>"Madam," said I, "there <i>is</i> an answer needed. I am to take +back that answer. I know that this message is to the Baroness von +Ritz. I guess it to be important; and I know you are the Baroness +von Ritz."</p> +<p>"Well, then," said she, pulling about her half-bared shoulders +the light wrap she wore; "let me be as free with you. If I have +missed one shoe, I have not lost it wholly. I lost the slipper in a +way not quite planned on the program. It hurt my foot. I sought to +adjust it behind a curtain. My gentleman of Mexico was in wine. I +fled, leaving my escort, and he followed. I called to you. You know +the rest. I am glad you are less in wine, and are more a +gentleman."</p> +<p>"I do not yet know my answer, Madam."</p> +<p>"Come!" she said; and at once knocked upon the door.</p> +<p>I shall not soon forget the surprise which awaited me when at +last the door swung open silently at the hand of a wrinkled and +brown old serving-woman—not one of our colored women, but of +some dark foreign race. The faintest trace of surprise showed on +the old woman's face, but she stepped back and swung the door wide, +standing submissively, waiting for orders.</p> +<p>We stood now facing what ought to have been a narrow and dingy +little room in a low row of dingy buildings, each of two stories +and so shallow in extent as perhaps not to offer roof space to more +than a half dozen rooms. Instead of what should have been, however, +there was a wide hall—wide as each building would have been +from front to back, but longer than a half dozen of them would have +been! I did not know then, what I learned later, that the +partitions throughout this entire row had been removed, the +material serving to fill up one of the houses at the farthest +extremity of the row. There was thus offered a long and narrow +room, or series of rooms, which now I saw beyond possibility of +doubt constituted the residence of this strange woman whom chance +had sent me to address; and whom still stranger chance had thrown +in contact with me even before my errand was begun!</p> +<p>She stood looking at me, a smile flitting over her features, her +stockinged foot extended, toe down, serving to balance her on her +high-heeled single shoe.</p> +<p>"Pardon, sir," she said, hesitating, as she held the sealed +epistle in her hand. "You know me—perhaps you follow +me—I do not know. Tell me, are you a spy of that man +Pakenham?"</p> +<p>Her words and her tone startled me. I had supposed her bound to +Sir Richard by ties of a certain sort. Her bluntness and +independence puzzled me as much as her splendid beauty enraptured +me. I tried to forget both.</p> +<p>"Madam, I am spy of no man, unless I am such at order of my +chief, John Calhoun, of the United States Senate—perhaps, if +Madam pleases, soon of Mr. Tyler's cabinet."</p> +<p>In answer, she turned, hobbled to a tiny marquetry table, and +tossed the note down upon it, unopened. I waited patiently, looking +about me meantime. I discovered that the windows were barred with +narrow slats of iron within, although covered with heavy draperies +of amber silk. There was a double sheet of iron covering the door +by which we had entered.</p> +<p>"Your cage, Madam?" I inquired. "I do not blame England for +making it so secret and strong! If so lovely a prisoner were mine, +I should double the bars."</p> +<p>The swift answer to my presumption came in the flush of her +cheek and her bitten lip. She caught up the key from the table, and +half motioned me to the door. But now I smiled in turn, and pointed +to the unopened note on the table. "You will pardon me, Madam," I +went on. "Surely it is no disgrace to represent either England or +America. They are not at war. Why should we be?" We gazed steadily +at each other.</p> +<p>The old servant had disappeared when at length her mistress +chose to pick up my unregarded document. Deliberately she broke the +seal and read. An instant later, her anger gone, she was laughing +gaily.</p> +<p>"See," said she, bubbling over with her mirth; "I pick up a +stranger, who should say good-by at my curb; my apartments are +forced; and this is what this stranger asks: that I shall go with +him, to-night, alone, and otherwise unattended, to see a man, +perhaps high in your government, but a stranger to me, at his own +rooms-alone! Oh, la! la! Surely these Americans hold me high!"</p> +<p>"Assuredly we do, Madam," I answered. "Will it please you to go +in your own carriage, or shall I return with one for you?"</p> +<p>She put her hands behind her back, holding in them the opened +message from my chief. "I am tired. I am bored. Your impudence +amuses me; and your errand is not your fault. Come, sit down. You +have been good to me. Before you go, I shall have some refreshment +brought for you."</p> +<p>I felt a sudden call upon my resources as I found myself in this +singular situation. Here, indeed, more easily reached than I had +dared hope, was the woman in the case. But only half of my errand, +the easier half, was done.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>THE BOUDOIR OF THE BARONESS</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>A woman's counsel brought us first to +woe.—<i>Dryden</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>"Wait!" she said. "We shall have candles." She clapped her hands +sharply, and again there entered the silent old serving-woman, who, +obedient to a gesture, proceeded to light additional candles in the +prism stands and sconces. The apartment was now distinct in all its +details under this additional flood of light. Decently as I might I +looked about. I was forced to stifle the exclamation of surprise +which rose to my lips.</p> +<p>We were plain folk enough in Washington at that time. The +ceremonious days of our first presidents had passed for the +democratic time of Jefferson and Jackson; and even under Mr. Van +Buren there had been little change from the simplicity which was +somewhat our boast. Washington itself was at that time scarcely +more than an overgrown hamlet, not in the least to be compared to +the cosmopolitan centers which made the capitals of the Old World. +Formality and stateliness of a certain sort we had, but of luxury +we knew little. There was at that time, as I well knew, no state +apartment in the city which in sheer splendor could for a moment +compare with this secret abode of a woman practically unknown. Here +certainly was European luxury transferred to our shores. This in +simple Washington, with its vast white unfinished capitol, its +piecemeal miles of mixed residences, boarding-houses, hotels, +restaurants, and hovels! I fancied stern Andrew Jackson or plain +John Calhoun here!</p> +<p>The furniture I discovered to be exquisite in detail, of +rosewood and mahogany, with many brass chasings and carvings, after +the fashion of the Empire, and here and there florid ornamentation +following that of the court of the earlier Louis. Fanciful little +clocks with carved scrolls stood about; Cupid tapestries had +replaced the original tawdry coverings of these common walls, and +what had once been a dingy fireplace was now faced with embossed +tiles never made in America. There were paintings in oil here and +there, done by master hands, as one could tell. The curtained +windows spoke eloquently of secrecy. Here and there a divan and +couch showed elaborate care in comfort. Beyond a lace-screened +grille I saw an alcove—doubtless cut through the original +partition wall between two of these humble houses—and within +this stood a high tester bed, its heavy mahogany posts beautifully +carved, the couch itself piled deep with foundations of I know not +what of down and spread most daintily with a coverlid of amber +satin, whose edges fringed out almost to the floor. At the other +extremity, screened off as in a distinct apartment, there stood a +smaller couch, a Napoleon bed, with carved ends, furnished more +simply but with equal richness. Everywhere was the air not only of +comfort, but of ease and luxury, elegance and sensuousness +contending. I needed no lesson to tell me that this was not an +ordinary apartment, nor occupied by an ordinary owner.</p> +<p>One resented the liberties England took in establishing this +manner of ménage in our simple city, and arrogantly taking +for granted our ignorance regarding it; but none the less one was +forced to commend the thoroughness shown. The ceilings, of course, +remained low, but there was visible no trace of the original +architecture, so cunningly had the interior been treated. As I have +said, the dividing partitions had all been removed, so that the +long interior practically was open, save as the apartments were +separated by curtains or grilles. The floors were carpeted thick +and deep. Silence reigned here. There remained no trace of the +clumsy comfort which had sufficed the early builder. Here was no +longer a series of modest homes, but a boudoir which might have +been the gilded cage of some favorite of an ancient court. The +breath and flavor of this suspicion floated in every drapery, swam +in the faint perfume which filled the place. My first impression +was that of surprise; my second, as I have said, a feeling of +resentment at the presumption which installed all this in our +capital of Washington.</p> +<p>I presume my thought may have been reflected in some manner in +my face. I heard a gentle laugh, and turned about. She sat there in +a great carved chair, smiling, her white arms stretched out on the +rails, the fingers just gently curving. There was no apology for +her situation, no trace of alarm or shame or unreadiness. It was +quite obvious she was merely amused. I was in no way ready to +ratify the rumors I had heard regarding her.</p> +<p>She had thrown back over the rail of the chair the rich cloak +which covered her in the carriage, and sat now in the full light, +in the splendor of satin and lace and gems, her arms bare, her +throat and shoulders white and bare, her figure recognized +graciously by every line of a superb gowning such as we had not yet +learned on this side of the sea. Never had I seen, and never since +have I seen, a more splendid instance of what beauty of woman may +be.</p> +<p>She did not speak at first, but sat and smiled, studying, I +presume, to find what stuff I was made of. Seeing this, I pulled +myself together and proceeded briskly to my business.</p> +<p>"My employer will find me late, I fear, my dear baroness," I +began.</p> +<p>"Better late than wholly unsuccessful," she rejoined, still +smiling. "Tell me, my friend, suppose you had come hither and +knocked at my door?"</p> +<p>"Perhaps I might not have been so clumsy," I essayed.</p> +<p>"Confess it!" she smiled. "Had you come here and seen the +exterior only, you would have felt yourself part of a great +mistake. You would have gone away."</p> +<p>"Perhaps not," I argued. "I have much confidence in my chief's +acquaintance with his own purposes and his own facts. Yet I confess +I should not have sought madam the baroness in this neighborhood. +If England provides us so beautiful a picture, why could she not +afford a frame more suitable? Why is England so secret with +us?"</p> +<p>She only smiled, showing two rows of exceedingly even white +teeth. She was perfect mistress of herself. In years she was not my +equal, yet I could see that at the time I did scarcely more than +amuse her.</p> +<p>"Be seated, pray," she said at last. "Let us talk over this +matter."</p> +<p>Obedient to her gesture, I dropped into a chair opposite to her, +she herself not varying her posture and still regarding me with the +laugh in her half-closed eyes.</p> +<p>"What do you think of my little place?" she asked finally.</p> +<p>"Two things, Madam," said I, half sternly. "If it belonged to a +man, and to a minister plenipotentiary, I should not approve it. If +it belonged to a lady of means and a desire to see the lands of +this little world, I should approve it very much."</p> +<p>She looked at me with eyes slightly narrowed, but no trace of +perturbation crossed her face. I saw it was no ordinary woman with +whom we had to do.</p> +<p>"But," I went on, "in any case and at all events, I should say +that the bird confined in such a cage, where secrecy is so +imperative, would at times find weariness—would, in fact, +wish escape to other employment. You, Madam"—I looked at her +directly—"are a woman of so much intellect that you could not +be content merely to live."</p> +<p>"No," she said, "I would not be content merely to live."</p> +<p>"Precisely. Therefore, since to make life worth the living there +must be occasionally a trifle of spice, a bit of adventure, either +for man or woman, I suggest to you, as something offering +amusement, this little journey with me to-night to meet my chief. +You have his message. I am his messenger, and, believe me, quite at +your service in any way you may suggest. Let us be frank. If you +are agent, so am I. See; I have come into your camp. Dare you not +come into ours? Come; it is an adventure to see a tall, thin old +man in a dressing-gown and a red woolen nightcap. So you will find +my chief; and in apartments much different from these."</p> +<p>She took up the missive with its broken seal. "So your chief, as +you call him, asks me to come to him, at midnight, with you, a +stranger?"</p> +<p>"Do you not believe in charms and in luck, in evil and good +fortune, Madam?" I asked her. "Now, it is well to be lucky. In +ordinary circumstances, as you say, I could not have got past +yonder door. Yet here I am. What does it augur, Madam?"</p> +<p>"But it is night!"</p> +<p>"Precisely. Could you go to the office of a United States +senator and possible cabinet minister in broad daylight and that +fact not be known? Could he come to your apartments in broad +daylight and that fact not be known? What would 'that man Pakenham' +suspect in either case? Believe me, my master is wise. I do not +know his reason, but he knows it, and he has planned best to gain +his purpose, whatever it may be. Reason must teach you, Madam, that +night, this night, this hour, is the only time in which this visit +could be made. Naturally, it would be impossible for him to come +here. If you go to him, he will—ah, he will reverence you, as +I do, Madam. Great necessity sets aside conventions, sets aside +everything. Come, then!"</p> +<div><a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a></div> +<p>But still she only sat and smiled at me. I felt that purple and +amber glow, the emanation of her personality, of her senses, +creeping around me again as she leaned forward finally, her parted +red-bowed lips again disclosing her delicate white teeth. I saw the +little heave of her bosom, whether in laughter or emotion I could +not tell. I was young. Resenting the spell which I felt coming upon +me, all I could do was to reiterate my demand for haste. She was +not in the least impressed by this.</p> +<p>"Come!" she said. "I am pleased with these Americans. Yes, I am +not displeased with this little adventure."</p> +<p>I rose impatiently, and walked apart in the room. "You can not +evade me, Madam, so easily as you did the Mexican gentleman who +followed you. You have him in the net also? Is not the net full +enough?"</p> +<p>"Never!" she said, her head swaying slowly from side to side, +her face inscrutable. "Am I not a woman? Ah, am I not?"</p> +<p>"Madam," said I, whirling upon her, "let me, at least, alone. I +am too small game for you. I am but a messenger. Time passes. Let +us arrive at our business."</p> +<p>"What would you do if I refused to go with you?" she asked, +still smiling at me. She was waiting for the spell of these +surroundings, the spirit of this place, to do their work with me, +perhaps; was willing to take her time with charm of eye and arm and +hair and curved fingers, which did not openly invite and did not +covertly repel. But I saw that her attitude toward me held no more +than that of bird of prey and some little creature well within its +power. It made me angry to be so rated.</p> +<p>"You ask me what I should do?" I retorted savagely. "I shall +tell you first what I <i>will</i> do if you continue your refusal. +I will <i>take</i> you with me, and so keep my agreement with my +chief. Keep away from the bell rope! Remain silent! Do not move! +You should go if I had to carry you there in a sack—because +that is my errand!"</p> +<p>"Oh, listen at him threaten!" she laughed still. "And he +despises my poor little castle here in the side street, where half +the time I am so lonely! What would Monsieur do if Monsieur were in +my place—and if I were in Monsieur's place? But, bah! you +would not have me following <i>you</i> in the first hour we met, +boy!"</p> +<p>I flushed again hotly at this last word. "Madam may discontinue +the thought of my boyhood; I am older than she. But if you ask me +what I would do with a woman if I followed her, or if she followed +me, then I shall tell you. If I owned this place and all in it, I +would tear down every picture from these walls, every silken cover +from yonder couches! I would rip out these walls and put back the +ones that once were here! You, Madam, should be taken out of luxury +and daintiness—"</p> +<p>"Go on!" She clapped her hands, for the first time kindling, and +dropping her annoying air of patronizing me. "Go on! I like you +now. Tell me what Americans do with women that they love! I have +heard they are savages."</p> +<p>"A house of logs far out in the countries that I know would do +for you, Madam!" I went on hotly. "You should forget the touch of +silk and lace. No neighbor you should know until I was willing. Any +man who followed you should meet <i>me</i>. Until you loved me all +you could, and said so, and proved it, I would wring your neck with +my hands, if necessary, until you loved me!"</p> +<p>"Excellent! What then?"</p> +<p>"Then, Madam the Baroness, I would in turn build you a palace, +one of logs, and would make you a most excellent couch of the husks +of corn. You should cook at my fireplace, and for <i>me!</i>"</p> +<p>She smiled slowly past me, at me. "Pray, be seated," she said. +"You interest me."</p> +<p>"It is late," I reiterated. "Come! Must I do some of these +things—force you into obedience—carry you away in a +sack? My master can not wait."</p> +<p>"Don Yturrio of Mexico, on the other hand," she mused, "promised +me not violence, but more jewels. Idiot!"</p> +<p>"Indeed!" I rejoined, in contempt. "An American savage would +give you but one gown, and that of your own weave; you could make +it up as you liked. But come, now; I have no more time to +lose."</p> +<p>"Ah, also, idiot!" she murmured. "Do you not see that I must +reclothe myself before I could go with you—that is to say, if +I choose to go with you? Now, as I was saying, my ardent Mexican +promises thus and so. My lord of England—ah, well, they may +be pardoned. Suppose I might listen to such suits—might there +not be some life for me—some life with events? On the other +hand, what of interest could America offer?"</p> +<p>"I have told you what life America could give you."</p> +<p>"I imagined men were but men, wherever found," she went on; "but +what you say interests me, I declare to you again. A woman is a +woman, too, I fancy. She always wants one thing—to be all the +world to one man."</p> +<p>"Quite true," I answered. "Better that than part of the world to +one—or two? And the opposite of it is yet more true. When a +woman is all the world to a man, she despises him."</p> +<p>"But yes, I should like that experience of being a cook in a +cabin, and being bruised and broken and choked!" She smiled, lazily +extending her flawless arms and looking down at them, at all of her +splendid figure, as though in interested examination. "I am alone +so much—so bored!" she went on. "And Sir Richard Pakenham is +so very, very fat. Ah, God! You can not guess how fat he is. But +you, you are not fat." She looked me over critically, to my great +uneasiness.</p> +<p>"All the more reason for doing as I have suggested, Madam; for +Mr. Calhoun is not even so fat as I am. This little interview with +my chief, I doubt not, will prove of interest. Indeed"—I went +on seriously and intently—"I venture to say this much without +presuming on my station: the talk which you will have with my chief +to-night will show you things you have never known, give you an +interest in living which perhaps you have not felt. If I am not +mistaken, you will find much in common between you and my master. I +speak not to the agent of England, but to the lady Helena von +Ritz."</p> +<p>"He is old," she went on. "He is very old. His face is thin and +bloodless and fleshless. He is old."</p> +<p>"Madam," I said, "his mind is young, his purpose young, his +ambition young; and his country is young. Is not the youth of all +these things still your own?"</p> +<p>She made no answer, but sat musing, drumming lightly on the +chair arm. I was reaching for her cloak. Then at once I caught a +glimpse of her stockinged foot, the toe of which slightly protruded +from beneath her ball gown. She saw the glance and laughed.</p> +<p>"Poor feet," she said. "Ah, <i>mes pauvres pieds la</i>! You +would like to see them bruised by the hard going in some heathen +country? See you have no carriage, and mine is gone. I have not +even a pair of shoes. Go look under the bed beyond."</p> +<p>I obeyed her gladly enough. Under the fringe of the satin +counterpane I found a box of boots, slippers, all manner of +footwear, daintily and neatly arranged. Taking out a pair to my +fancy, I carried them out and knelt before her.</p> +<p>"Then, Madam," said I, "since you insist on this, I shall +choose. America is not Europe. Our feet here have rougher going and +must be shod for it. Allow me!"</p> +<p>Without the least hesitation in the world, or the least +immodesty, she half protruded the foot which still retained its +slipper. As I removed this latter, through some gay impulse, whose +nature I did not pause to analyze, I half mechanically thrust it +into the side pocket of my coat.</p> +<p>"This shall be security," said I, "that what you speak with my +master shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the +truth."</p> +<p>There was a curious deeper red in her cheek. I saw her bosom +beat the faster rhythm.</p> +<p>"Quite agreed!" she answered. But she motioned me away, taking +the stout boot in her own hand and turning aside as she fastened +it. She looked over her shoulder at me now and again while thus +engaged.</p> +<p>"Tell me," she said gently, "what security do <i>I</i> have? You +come, by my invitation, it is true, but none the less an intrusion, +into my apartments. You demand of me something which no man has a +right to demand. Because I am disposed to be gracious, and because +I am much disposed to be <i>ennuyé</i>, and because Mr. +Pakenham is fat, I am willing to take into consideration what you +ask. I have never seen a thin gentleman in a woolen nightcap, and I +am curious. But no gentleman plays games with ladies in which the +dice are loaded for himself. Come, what security shall <i>I</i> +have?"</p> +<p>I did not pretend to understand her. Perhaps, after all, we all +had been misinformed regarding her? I could not tell. But her +spirit of <i>camaraderie</i>, her good fellowship, her courage, +quite aside from her personal charm, had now begun to impress +me.</p> +<p>"Madam," said I, feeling in my pocket; "no heathen has much of +this world's goods. All my possessions would not furnish one of +these rooms. I can not offer gems, as does Señor +Yturrio—but, would this be of service—until to-morrow? +That will leave him and me with a slipper each. It is with +reluctance I pledge to return mine!"</p> +<p>By chance I had felt in my pocket a little object which I had +placed there that very day for quite another purpose. It was only a +little trinket of Indian manufacture, which I had intended to give +Elisabeth that very evening; a sort of cloak clasp, originally made +as an Indian blanket fastening, with two round discs ground out of +shells and connected by beaded thongs. I had got it among the +tribes of the far upper plains, who doubtless obtained the shells, +in their strange savage barter, in some way from the tribes of +Florida or Texas, who sometimes trafficked in shells which found +their way as far north as the Saskatchewan. The trinket was +curious, though of small value. The baroness looked at it with +interest.</p> +<p>"How it reminds me of this heathen country!" she said. "Is this +all that your art can do in jewelry? Yet it <i>is</i> beautiful. +Come, will you not give it to me?"</p> +<p>"Until to-morrow, Madam."</p> +<p>"No longer?"</p> +<p>"I can not promise it longer. I must, unfortunately, have it +back when I send a messenger—I shall hardly come myself, +Madam."</p> +<p>"Ah!" she scoffed. "Then it belongs to another woman?"</p> +<p>"Yes, it is promised to another."</p> +<p>"Then this is to be the last time we meet?"</p> +<p>"I do not doubt it."</p> +<p>"Are you not sorry?"</p> +<p>"Naturally, Madam!"</p> +<p>She sighed, laughing as she did so. Yet I could not evade seeing +the curious color on her cheek, the rise and fall of the laces over +her bosom. Utterly self-possessed, satisfied with life as it had +come to her, without illusion as to life, absorbed in the great +game of living and adventuring—so I should have described +her. Then why should her heart beat one stroke the faster now? I +dismissed that question, and rebuked my eyes, which I found +continually turning toward her.</p> +<p>She motioned to a little table near by. "Put the slipper there," +she said. "Your little neck clasp, also." Again I obeyed her.</p> +<p>"Stand there!" she said, motioning to the opposite side of the +table; and I did so. "Now," said she, looking at me gravely, "I am +going with you to see this man whom you call your chief—this +old and ugly man, thin and weazened, with no blood in him, and a +woolen nightcap which is perhaps red. I shall not tell you whether +I go of my own wish or because you wish it. But I need soberly to +tell you this: secrecy is as necessary for me as for you. The favor +may mean as much on one side as on the other—I shall not tell +you why. But we shall play fair until, as you say, perhaps +to-morrow. After that—"</p> +<p>"After that, on guard!"</p> +<p>"Very well, on guard! Suppose I do not like this other +woman?"</p> +<p>"Madam, you could not help it. All the world loves her."</p> +<p>"Do you?"</p> +<p>"With my life."</p> +<p>"How devoted! Very well, <i>on guard</i>, then!"</p> +<p>She took up the Indian bauble, turning to examine it at the +nearest candle sconce, even as I thrust the dainty little slipper +of white satin again into the pocket of my coat. I was +uncomfortable. I wished this talk of Elisabeth had not come up. I +liked very little to leave Elisabeth's property in another's hands. +Dissatisfied, I turned from the table, not noticing for more than +an instant a little crumpled roll of paper which, as I was vaguely +conscious, now appeared on its smooth marquetry top.</p> +<p>"But see," she said; "you are just like a man, after all, and an +unmarried man at that! I can not go through the streets in this +costume. Excuse me for a moment."</p> +<p>She was off on the instant into the alcove where the great +amber-covered bed stood. She drew the curtains. I heard her humming +to herself as she passed to and fro, saw the flare of a light as it +rose beyond. Once or twice she thrust a laughing face between the +curtains, held tight together with her hands, as she asked me some +question, mocking me, still amused—yet still, as I thought, +more enigmatic than before.</p> +<p>"Madam," I said at last, "I would I might dwell here for ever, +but—you are slow! The night passes. Come. My master will be +waiting. He is ill; I fear he can not sleep. I know how intent he +is on meeting you. I beg you to oblige an old, a dying man!"</p> +<p>"And you, Monsieur," she mocked at me from beyond the curtain, +"are intent only on getting rid of me. Are you not adventurer +enough to forget that other woman for one night?"</p> +<p>In her hands—those of a mysterious foreign woman—I +had placed this little trinket which I had got among the western +tribes for Elisabeth—a woman of my own people—the woman +to whom my pledge had been given, not for return on any morrow. I +made no answer, excepting to walk up and down the floor.</p> +<p>At last she came out from between the curtains, garbed more +suitably for the errand which was now before us. A long, dark cloak +covered her shoulders. On her head there rested a dainty up-flared +bonnet, whose jetted edges shone in the candle light as she moved +toward me. She was exquisite in every detail, beautiful as mind of +man could wish; that much was sure, must be admitted by any man. I +dared not look at her. I called to mind the taunt of those old men, +that I was young! There was in my soul vast relief that she was not +delaying me here longer in this place of spells—that in this +almost providential way my errand had met success.</p> +<p>She paused for an instant, drawing on a pair of the short gloves +of the mode then correct. "Do you know why I am to go on this +heathen errand?" she demanded. I shook my head.</p> +<p>"Mr. Calhoun wishes to know whether he shall go to the cabinet +of your man Tyler over there in that barn you call your White +House. I suppose Mr. Calhoun wishes to know how he can serve Mr. +Tyler?"</p> +<p>I laughed at this. "Serve him!" I exclaimed. "Rather say +<i>lead</i> him, <i>tell</i> him, <i>command</i> him!"</p> +<p>"Yes," she nodded. I began to see another and graver side of her +nature. "Yes, it is of course Texas."</p> +<p>I did not see fit to make answer to this.</p> +<p>"If your master, as you call him, takes the portfolio with +Tyler, it is to annex Texas," she repeated sharply. "Is not that +true?"</p> +<p>Still I would not answer. "Come!" I said.</p> +<p>"And he asks me to come to him so that he may decide—"</p> +<p>This awoke me. "No man decides for John Calhoun, Madam," I said. +"You may advance facts, but <i>he</i> will decide." Still she went +on.</p> +<p>"And Texas not annexed is a menace. Without her, you heathen +people would not present a solid front, would you?"</p> +<p>"Madam has had much to do with affairs of state," I said.</p> +<p>She went on as though I had not spoken:</p> +<p>"And if you were divided in your southern section, England would +have all the greater chance. England, you know, says she wishes +slavery abolished. She says that—"</p> +<p>"England <i>says</i> many things!" I ventured.</p> +<p>"The hypocrite of the nations!" flashed out this singular woman +at me suddenly. "As though diplomacy need be hypocrisy! Thus, +to-night Sir Richard of England forgets his place, his +protestations. He does not even know that Mexico has forgotten its +duty also. Sir, you were not at our little ball, so you could not +see that very fat Sir Richard paying his bored <i>devoirs</i> to +Doña Lucrezia! So I am left alone, and would be bored, but +for you. In return—a slight jest on Sir Richard +to-night!—I will teach him that no fat gentleman should pay +even bored attentions to a lady who soon will be fat, when his +obvious duty should call him otherwhere! Bah! 'tis as though I +myself were fat; which is not true."</p> +<p>"You go too deep for me, Madam," I said. "I am but a simple +messenger." At the same time, I saw how admirably things were +shaping for us all. A woman's jealousy was with us, and so a +woman's whim!</p> +<p>"There you have the measure of England's sincerity," she went +on, with contempt. "England is selfish, that is all. Do you not +suppose I have something to do besides feeding a canary? To read, +to study—that is my pleasure. I know your politics here in +America. Suppose you invade Texas, as the threat is, with troops of +the United States, before Texas is a member of the Union? Does that +not mean you are again at war with Mexico? And does that not mean +that you are also at war with England? Come, do you not know some +of those things?"</p> +<p>"With my hand on my heart, Madam," I asserted solemnly, "all I +know is that you must go to see my master. Calhoun wants you. +America needs you. I beg you to do what kindness you may to the +heathen."</p> +<p>"<i>Et moi?</i>"</p> +<p>"And you?" I answered. "You shall have such reward as you have +never dreamed in all your life."</p> +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> +<p>"I doubt not the reward for a soul which is as keen and able as +your heart is warm, Madam. Come, I am not such a fool as you think, +perhaps. Nor are you a fool. You are a great woman, a wonderful +woman, with head and heart both, Madam, as well as beauty such as I +had never dreamed. You are a strange woman, Madam. You are a +genius, Madam, if you please. So, I say, you are capable of a +reward, and a great one. You may find it in the gratitude of a +people."</p> +<p>"What could this country give more than Mexico or England?" She +smiled quizzically.</p> +<p>"Much more, Madam! Your reward shall be in the later thought of +many homes—homes built of logs, with dingy fireplaces and +couches of husks in them—far out, all across this continent, +housing many people, many happy citizens, men who will make their +own laws, and enforce them, man and man alike! Madam, it is the +spirit of democracy which calls on you to-night! It is not any +political party, nor the representative of one. It is not Mr. +Calhoun; it is not I. Mr. Calhoun only puts before you the summons +of—"</p> +<p>"Of what?"</p> +<p>"Of that spirit of democracy."</p> +<p>She stood, one hand ungloved, a finger at her lips, her eyes +glowing. "I am glad you came," she said. "On the whole, I am also +glad I came upon my foolish errand here to America."</p> +<p>"Madam," said I, my hand at the fastening of the door, "we have +exchanged pledges. Now we exchange places. It is you who are the +messenger, not myself. There is a message in your hands. I know not +whether you ever served a monarchy. Come, you shall see that our +republic has neither secrets nor hypocrisies."</p> +<p>On the instant she was not shrewd and tactful woman of the +world, not student, but once more coquette and woman of impulse. +She looked at me with mockery and invitation alike in her great +dark eyes, even as I threw down the chain at the door and opened it +wide for her to pass.</p> +<p>"Is that my only reward?" she asked, smiling as she fumbled at a +glove.</p> +<p>In reply, I bent and kissed the fingers of her ungloved hand. +They were so warm and tender that I had been different than I was +had I not felt the blood tingle in all my body in the impulse of +the moment to do more than kiss her fingers.</p> +<p>Had I done so—had I not thought of Elisabeth—then, +as in my heart I still believe, the flag of England to-day would +rule Oregon and the Pacific; and it would float to-day along the +Rio Grande; and it would menace a divided North and South, instead +of respecting a strong and indivisible Union which owns one flag +and dreads none in the world.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>REGARDING ELISABETH</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Without woman the two extremities of this life would be +destitute of succor and the middle would be devoid of +pleasure.—<i>Proverb</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>In some forgotten garret of this country, as I do not doubt, +yellowed with age, stained and indistinguishable, lost among +uncared-for relics of another day, there may be records of that +interview between two strange personalities, John Calhoun and +Helena von Ritz, in the arrangement of which I played the part +above described. I was not at that time privileged to have much +more than a guess at the nature of the interview. Indeed, other +things now occupied my mind. I was very much in love with Elisabeth +Churchill.</p> +<p>Of these matters I need to make some mention. My father's +plantation was one of the old ones in Maryland. That of the +Churchills lay across a low range of mountains and in another +county from us, but our families had long been friends. I had known +Elisabeth from the time she was a tall, slim girl, boon companion +ever to her father, old Daniel Churchill; for her mother she had +lost when she was still young. The Churchills maintained a city +establishment in the environs of Washington itself, although that +was not much removed from their plantation in the old State of +Maryland. Elmhurst, this Washington estate was called, and it was +well known there, with its straight road approaching and its great +trees and its wide-doored halls—whereby the road itself +seemed to run straight through the house and appear +beyond—and its tall white pillars and hospitable galleries, +now in the springtime enclosed in green. I need not state that now, +having finished the business of the day, or, rather, of the night, +Elmhurst, home of Elisabeth, was my immediate Mecca.</p> +<p>I had clad myself as well as I could in the fashion of my time, +and flattered myself, as I looked in my little mirror, that I made +none such bad figure of a man. I was tall enough, and straight, +thin with long hours afoot or in the saddle, bronzed to a good +color, and if health did not show on my face, at least I felt it +myself in the lightness of my step, in the contentedness of my +heart with all of life, in my general assurance that all in the +world meant well toward me and that everything in the world would +do well by me. We shall see what license there was for this.</p> +<p>As to Elisabeth Churchill, it might have been in line with a +Maryland-custom had she generally been known as Betty; but Betty +she never was called, although that diminutive was applied to her +aunt, Jennings, twice as large as she, after whom she had been +named. Betty implies a snub nose; Elisabeth's was clean-cut and +straight. Betty runs for a saucy mouth and a short one; Elisabeth's +was red and curved, but firm and wide enough for strength and +charity as well. Betty spells round eyes, with brows arched above +them as though in query and curiosity; the eyes of Elisabeth were +long, her brows long and straight and delicately fine. A Betty +might even have red hair; Elisabeth's was brown in most lights, and +so liquid smooth that almost I was disposed to call it dense rather +than thick. Betty would seem to indicate a nature impulsive, gay, +and free from care; on the other hand, it was to be said of +Elisabeth that she was logical beyond her kind—a trait which +she got from her mother, a daughter of old Judge Henry Gooch, of +our Superior Court. Yet, disposed as she always was to be logical +in her conclusions, the great characteristic of Elisabeth was +serenity, consideration and charity.</p> +<p>With all this, there appeared sometimes at the surface of +Elisabeth's nature that fire and lightness and impulsiveness which +she got from her father, Mr. Daniel Churchill. Whether she was +wholly reserved and reasonable, or wholly warm and impulsive, I, +long as I had known and loved her, never was quite sure. Something +held me away, something called me forward; so that I was always +baffled, and yet always eager, God wot. I suppose this is the way +of women. At times I have been impatient with it, knowing my own +mind well enough.</p> +<p>At least now, in my tight-strapped trousers and my long blue +coat and my deep embroidered waistcoat and my high stock, my +shining boots and my tall beaver, I made my way on my well-groomed +horse up to the gates of old Elmhurst; and as I rode I pondered and +I dreamed.</p> +<p>But Miss Elisabeth was not at home, it seemed. Her father, Mr. +Daniel Churchill, rather portly and now just a trifle red of face, +met me instead. It was not an encounter for which I devoutly +wished, but one which I knew it was the right of both of us to +expect ere long. Seeing the occasion propitious, I plunged at once +<i>in medias res</i>. Part of the time explanatory, again +apologetic, and yet again, I trust, assertive, although always +blundering and red and awkward, I told the father of my intended of +my own wishes, my prospects and my plans.</p> +<p>He listened to me gravely and, it seemed to me, with none of +that enthusiasm which I would have welcomed. As to my family, he +knew enough. As to my prospects, he questioned me. My record was +not unfamiliar to him. So, gaining confidence at last under the +insistence of what I knew were worthy motives, and which certainly +were irresistible of themselves, so far as I was concerned, I asked +him if we might not soon make an end of this, and, taking chances +as they were, allow my wedding with Elisabeth to take place at no +very distant date.</p> +<p>"Why, as to that, of course I do not know what my girl will +say," went on Mr. Daniel Churchill, pursing up his lips. He looked +not wholly lovable to me, as he sat in his big chair. I wondered +that he should be father of so fair a human being as Elisabeth.</p> +<p>"Oh, of course—that," I answered; "Miss Elisabeth and +I—"</p> +<p>"The skeesicks!" he exclaimed. "I thought she told me +everything."</p> +<p>"I think Miss Elisabeth tells no one quite everything," I +ventured. "I confess she has kept me almost as much in the dark as +yourself, sir. But I only wanted to ask if, after I have seen her +to-day, and if I should gain her consent to an early day, you would +not waive any objections on your own part and allow the matter to +go forward as soon as possible?"</p> +<p>In answer to this he arose from his chair and stood looking out +of the window, his back turned to me. I could not call his +reception of my suggestion enthusiastic; but at last he turned.</p> +<p>"I presume that our two families might send you young people a +sack of meal or a side of bacon now and then, as far as that is +concerned," he said.</p> +<p>I could not call this speech joyous.</p> +<p>"There are said to be risks in any union, sir," I ventured to +say. "I admit I do not follow you in contemplating any risk +whatever. If either you or your daughter doubts my loyalty or +affection, then I should say certainly it were wise to end all +this; but—" and I fancied I straightened perceptibly—"I +think that might perhaps be left to Miss Elisabeth herself."</p> +<p>After all, Mr. Dan Churchill was obliged to yield, as fathers +have been obliged from the beginning of the world. At last he told +me I might take my fate in my own hands and go my way.</p> +<p>Trust the instinct of lovers to bring them together! I was quite +confident that at that hour I should find Elisabeth and her aunt in +the big East Room at the president's reception, the former looking +on with her uncompromising eyes at the little pageant which on +reception days regularly went forward there.</p> +<p>My conclusion was correct. I found a boy to hold my horse in +front of Gautier's café. Then I hastened off across the +intervening blocks and through the grounds of the White House, in +which presently, having edged through the throng in the +ante-chambers, I found myself in that inane procession of +individuals who passed by in order, each to receive the limp +handshake, the mechanical bow and the perfunctory smite of +President Tyler—rather a tall, slender-limbed, active man, +and of very decent presence, although his thin, shrunken cheeks and +his cold blue-gray eye left little quality of magnetism in his +personality.</p> +<p>It was not new to me, of course, this pageant, although it never +lacked of interest. There were in the throng representatives of all +America as it was then, a strange, crude blending of refinement and +vulgarity, of ease and poverty, of luxury and thrift. We had there +merchants from Philadelphia and New York, politicians from canny +New England and not less canny Pennsylvania. At times there came +from the Old World men representative of an easier and more opulent +life, who did not always trouble to suppress their smiles at us. +Moving among these were ladies from every state of our Union, +picturesque enough in their wide flowered skirts and their flaring +bonnets and their silken mitts, each rivalling the other in the +elegance of her mien, and all unconsciously outdone in charm, +perhaps, by some demure Quakeress in white and dove color, herself +looking askance on all this form and ceremony, yet unwilling to +leave the nation's capital without shaking the hand of the nation's +chief. Add to these, gaunt, black-haired frontiersmen from across +the Alleghanies; politicians from the South, clean-shaven, pompous, +immaculately clad; uneasy tradesmen from this or the other corner +of their commonwealth. A motley throng, indeed!</p> +<p>A certain air of gloom at this time hung over official +Washington, for the minds of all were still oppressed by the memory +of that fatal accident—the explosion of the great cannon +"Peacemaker" on board the war vessel <i>Princeton</i>—which +had killed Mr. Upshur, our secretary of state, with others, and +had, at one blow, come so near to depriving this government of its +head and his official family; the number of prominent lives thus +ended or endangered being appalling to contemplate. It was this +accident which had called Mr. Calhoun forward at a national +juncture of the most extreme delicacy and the utmost importance. In +spite of the general mourning, however, the informal receptions at +the White House were not wholly discontinued, and the +administration, unsettled as it was, and fronted by the gravest of +diplomatic problems, made such show of dignity and even +cheerfulness as it might.</p> +<p>I considered it my duty to pass in the long procession and to +shake the hand of Mr. Tyler. That done, I gazed about the great +room, carefully scan-fling the different little groups which were +accustomed to form after the ceremonial part of the visit was over. +I saw many whom I knew. I forgot them; for in a far corner, where a +flood of light came through the trailing vines that shielded the +outer window, my anxious eyes discovered the object of my +quest—Elisabeth.</p> +<p>It seemed to me I had never known her so fair as she was that +morning in the great East Room of the White House. Elisabeth was +rather taller than the average woman, and of that splendid southern +figure, slender but strong, which makes perhaps the best +representative of our American beauty. She was very bravely arrayed +to-day in her best pink-flowered lawn, made wide and full, as was +the custom of the time, but not so clumsily gathered at the waist +as some, and so serving not wholly to conceal her natural +comeliness of figure. Her bonnet she had removed. I could see the +sunlight on the ripples of her brown hair, and the shadows which +lay above her eyes as she turned to face me, and the slow pink +which crept into her cheeks.</p> +<p>Dignified always, and reserved, was Elisabeth Churchill. But now +I hope it was not wholly conceit which led me to feel that perhaps +the warmth, the glow of the air, caught while riding under the open +sky, the sight of the many budding roses of our city, the scent of +the blossoms which even then came through the lattice—the +meeting even with myself, so lately returned—something at +least of this had caused an awakening in her girl's heart. +Something, I say, I do not know what, gave her greeting to me more +warmth than was usual with her. My own heart, eager enough to break +bounds, answered in kind. We stood—blushing like children as +our hands touched—forgotten in that assemblage of +Washington's pomp and circumstance.</p> +<p>"How do you do?" was all I could find to say. And "How do you +do?" was all I could catch for answer, although I saw, in a +fleeting way, a glimpse of a dimple hid in Elisabeth's cheek. She +never showed it save when pleased. I have never seen a dimple like +that of Elisabeth's.</p> +<p>Absorbed, we almost forgot Aunt Betty Jennings—stout, +radiant, snub-nosed, arch-browed and curious, Elisabeth's chaperon. +On the whole, I was glad Aunt Betty Jennings was there. When a +soldier approaches a point of danger, he does not despise the cover +of natural objects. Aunt Betty appeared to me simply as a natural +object at the time. I sought her shelter.</p> +<p>"Aunt Betty," said I, as I took her hand; "Aunt Betty, have we +told you, Elisabeth and I?"</p> +<p>I saw Elisabeth straighten in perplexity, doubt or horror, but I +went on.</p> +<p>"Yes, Elisabeth and I—"</p> +<p>"You <i>dear</i> children!" gurgled Aunt Betty.</p> +<p>"Congratulate us both!" I demanded, and I put Elisabeth's hand, +covered with my own, into the short and chubby fingers of that +estimable lady. Whenever Elisabeth attempted to open her lips I +opened mine before, and I so overwhelmed dear Aunt Betty Jennings +with protestations of my regard for her, my interest in her family, +her other nieces, her chickens, her kittens, her home—I so +quieted all her questions by assertions and demands and +exclamations, and declarations that Mr. Daniel Churchill had given +his consent, that I swear for the moment even Elisabeth believed +that what I had said was indeed true. At least, I can testify she +made no formal denial, although the dimple was now frightened out +of sight.</p> +<p>Admirable Aunt Betty Jennings! She forestalled every assertion I +made, herself bubbling and blushing in sheer delight. Nor did she +lack in charity. Tapping me with her fan lightly, she exclaimed: +"You rogue! I know that you two want to be alone; that is what you +want. Now I am going away—just down the room. You will ride +home with us after a time, I am sure?"</p> +<p>Adorable Aunt Betty Jennings! Elisabeth and I looked at her +comfortable back for some moments before I turned, laughing, to +look Elisabeth in the eyes.</p> +<p>"You had no right—" began she, her face growing pink.</p> +<p>"Every right!" said I, and managed to find a place for our two +hands under cover of the wide flounces of her figured lawn as we +stood, both blushing. "I have every right. I have truly just seen +your father. I have just come from him."</p> +<p>She looked at me intently, glowingly, happily.</p> +<p>"I could not wait any longer," I went on. "Within a week I am +going to have an office of my own. Let us wait no longer. I have +waited long enough. Now—"</p> +<p>I babbled on, and she listened. It was strange place enough for +a betrothal, but there at least I said the words which bound me; +and in the look Elisabeth gave me I saw her answer. Her eyes were +wide and straight and solemn. She did not smile.</p> +<p>As we stood, with small opportunity and perhaps less inclination +for much conversation, my eyes chanced to turn toward the main +entrance door of the East Room. I saw, pushing through, a certain +page, a young boy of good family, who was employed by Mr. Calhoun +as messenger. He knew me perfectly well, as he did almost every one +else in Washington, and with precocious intelligence his gaze +picked me out in all that throng.</p> +<p>"Is that for me?" I asked, as he extended his missive.</p> +<p>"Yes," he nodded. "Mr. Calhoun told me to find you and to give +you this at once."</p> +<p>I turned to Elisabeth. "If you will pardon me?" I said. She made +way for me to pass to a curtained window, and there, turning my +back and using such secrecy as I could, I broke the seal.</p> +<p>The message was brief. To be equally brief I may say simply that +it asked me to be ready to start for Canada that night on business +connected with the Department of State! Of reasons or explanations +it gave none.</p> +<p>I turned to Elisabeth and held out the message from my chief. +She looked at it. Her eyes widened. "Nicholas!" she exclaimed.</p> +<p>I looked at her in silence for a moment. "Elisabeth," I said at +last, "I have been gone on this sort of business long enough. What +do you say to this? Shall I decline to go? It means my resignation +at once."</p> +<p>I hesitated. The heart of the nation and the nation's life were +about me. Our state, such as it was, lay there in that room, and +with it our problems, our duties, our dangers. I knew, better than +most, that there were real dangers before this nation at that very +hour. I was a lover, yet none the less I was an American. At once a +sudden plan came into my mind.</p> +<p>"Elisabeth," said I, turning to her swiftly, "I will agree to +nothing which will send me away from you again. Listen, +then—" I raised a hand as she would have spoken. "Go home +with your Aunt Betty as soon as you can. Tell your father that +to-night at six I shall be there. Be ready!"</p> +<p>"What do you mean?" she panted. I saw her throat flutter.</p> +<p>"I mean that we must be married to-night before I go. Before +eight o'clock I must be on the train."</p> +<p>"When will you be back?" she whispered.</p> +<p>"How can I tell? When I go, my wife shall wait there at +Elmhurst, instead of my sweetheart."</p> +<p>She turned away from me, contemplative. She, too, was young. +Ardor appealed to her. Life stood before her, beckoning, as to me. +What could the girl do or say?</p> +<p>I placed her hand on my arm. We started toward the door, +intending to pick up Aunt Jennings on our way. As we advanced, a +group before us broke apart. I stood aside to make way for a +gentleman whom I did not recognize. On his arm there leaned a +woman, a beautiful woman, clad in a costume of flounced and +rippling velvet of a royal blue which made her the most striking +figure in the great room. Hers was a personality not easily to be +overlooked in any company, her face one not readily to be equalled. +It was the Baroness Helena von Ritz!</p> +<p>We met face to face. I presume it would have been too much to +ask even of her to suppress the sudden flash of recognition which +she showed. At first she did not see that I was accompanied. She +bent to me, as though to adjust her gown, and, without a change in +the expression of her face, spoke to me in an undertone no one else +could hear.</p> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<a href="images/086.jpg"><img src="images/086.jpg" width="45%" alt= +"" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"Wait!" she murmured "There is to be a meeting—"</b> +<br /></div> +<p>"Wait!" she murmured. "There is to be a meeting—" She had +time for no more as she swept by.</p> +<p>Alas, that mere moments should spell ruin as well as happiness! +This new woman whom I had wooed and found, this new Elisabeth whose +hand lay on my arm, saw what no one else would have seen—that +little flash of recognition on the face of Helena von Ritz! She +heard a whisper pass. Moreover, with a woman's uncanny facility in +detail, she took in every item of the other's costume. For myself, +I could see nothing of that costume now save one object—a +barbaric brooch of double shells and beaded fastenings, which +clasped the light laces at her throat.</p> +<p>The baroness had perhaps slept as little as I the night before. +If I showed the ravages of loss of sleep no more than she, I was +fortunate. She was radiant, as she passed forward with her escort +for place in the line which had not yet dwindled away.</p> +<p>"You seem to know that lady," said Elisabeth to me gently.</p> +<p>"Did I so seem?" I answered. "It is professional of all to smile +in the East Room at a reception," said I.</p> +<p>"Then you do not know the lady?"</p> +<p>"Indeed, no. Why should I, my dear girl?" Ah, how hot my face +was!</p> +<p>"I do not know," said Elisabeth. "Only, in a way she resembles a +certain lady of whom we have heard rather more than enough here in +Washington."</p> +<p>"Put aside silly gossip, Elisabeth," I said. "And, please, do +not quarrel with me, now that I am so happy. To-night—"</p> +<p>"Nicholas," she said, leaning just a little forward and locking +her hands more deeply in my arm, "don't you know you were telling +me one time about the little brooch you were going to bring +me—an Indian thing—you said it should be my—my +wedding present? Don't you remember that? Now, I was +thinking—"</p> +<p>I stood blushing red as though detected in the utmost villainy. +And the girl at my side saw that written on my face which now, +within the very moment, it had become her <i>right</i> to question! +I turned to her suddenly.</p> +<p>"Elisabeth," said I, "you shall have your little brooch +to-night, if you will promise me now to be ready and waiting for me +at six. I will have the license."</p> +<p>It seemed to me that this new self of Elisabeth's—warmer, +yielding, adorable—was slowly going away from me again, and +that her old self, none the less sweet, none the less alluring, but +more logical and questioning, had taken its old place again. She +put both her hands on my arm now and looked me fairly in the face, +where the color still proclaimed some sort of guilt on my part, +although my heart was clean and innocent as hers.</p> +<p>"Nicholas," she said, "come to-night. Bring me my little +jewel—and bring—"</p> +<p>"The minister! If I do that, Elisabeth, you will marry me +then?"</p> +<p>"Yes!" she whispered softly.</p> +<p>Amid all the din and babble of that motley throng I heard the +word, low as it was. I have never heard a voice like +Elisabeth's.</p> +<p>An instant later, I knew not quite how, her hand was away from +my arm, in that of Aunt Betty, and they were passing toward the +main door, leaving me standing with joy and doubt mingled in my +mind.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>MR. CALHOUN ACCEPTS</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>A woman's tongue is her sword, that she never lets rust.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 19em;">—<i>Madam +Necker</i>.</span></p> +</div> +<p>I struggled among three courses. The impulses of my heart, +joined to some prescience of trouble, bade me to follow Elisabeth. +My duty ordered me to hasten to Mr. Calhoun. My interest demanded +that I should tarry, for I was sure that the Baroness von Ritz +would make no merely idle request in these circumstances. +Hesitating thus, I lost sight of her in the throng. So I concluded +I would obey the mandate of duty, and turned toward the great +doors. Indeed, I was well toward the steps which led out into the +grounds, when all at once two elements of my problem resolved +themselves into one. I saw the tall figure of Mr. Calhoun himself +coming up the walk toward me.</p> +<p>"Ah," said he briefly, "then my message found you?"</p> +<p>"I was starting for you this moment, sir" I replied.</p> +<p>"Wait for a moment. I counted on finding you here. Matters have +changed."</p> +<p>I turned with him and we entered again the East Room, where Mr. +Tyler still prolonged the official greeting of the curious, the +obsequious, or the banal persons who passed. Mr. Calhoun stood +apart for a time, watching the progress of this purely American +function. It was some time ere the groups thinned. This latter fact +usually would have ended the reception, since it is not etiquette +to suppose that the president can lack an audience; but to-day Mr. +Tyler lingered. At last through the thinning throng he caught sight +of the distinctive figure of Mr. Calhoun. For the first time his +own face assumed a natural expression. He stopped the line for an +instant, and with a raised hand beckoned to my chief.</p> +<p>At this we dropped in at the tail of the line, Mr. Calhoun in +passing grasping almost as many hands as Mr. Tyler. When at length +we reached the president's position, the latter greeted him and +added a whispered word. An instant later he turned abruptly, ending +the reception with a deep bow, and retired into the room from which +he had earlier emerged.</p> +<p>Mr. Calhoun turned now to me with a request to follow him, and +we passed through the door where the president had vanished. +Directed by attendants, we were presently ushered into yet another +room, which at that time served the president as his cabinet room, +a place for meeting persons of distinction who called upon +business.</p> +<p>As we entered I saw that it was already occupied. Mr. Tyler was +grasping the hand of a portly personage, whom I knew to be none +other than Mr. Pakenham. So much might have been expected. What was +not to have been expected was the presence of another—none +less than the Baroness von Ritz! For this latter there was no +precedent, no conceivable explanation save some exigent +emergency.</p> +<p>So we were apparently to understand that my lady was here as +open friend of England! Of course, I needed no word from Mr. +Calhoun to remind me that we must seem ignorant of this lady, of +her character, and of her reputed relations with the British +Foreign Office.</p> +<p>"I pray you be seated, Mr. Pakenham," said Mr. Tyler, and he +gestured also to us others to take chairs near his table. Mr. +Pakenham, in rather a lofty fashion, it seemed to me, obeyed the +polite request, but scarcely had seated himself ere he again rose +with an important clearing of his throat. He was one who never +relished the democratic title of "Mr." accorded him by Mr. Tyler, +whose plain and simple ways, not much different now from those of +his plantation life, were in marked contrast to the ceremoniousness +of the Van Buren administration, which Pakenham also had known.</p> +<p>"Your <i>Excellency</i>," said he, "her Majesty the Queen of +England's wish is somewhat anticipated by my visit here to-day. I +hasten only to put in the most prompt and friendly form her +Majesty's desires, which I am sure formally will be expressed in +the first mails from England. We deplore this most unhappy accident +on your warship <i>Princeton</i>, which has come so near working +irremediable injury to this country. Unofficially, I have ventured +to make this personal visit under the flag of this enlightened +Republic, and to the center of its official home, out of a +friendship for Mr. Upshur, the late secretary of state, a +friendship as sincere as is that of my own country for this +Republic."</p> +<p>"Sir," said Mr. Tyler, rising, with a deep bow, "the courtesy of +your personal presence is most gratifying. Allow me to express that +more intimate and warmer feeling of friendship for yourself which +comes through our long association with you. This respect and +admiration are felt by myself and my official family for you and +the great power which you represent. It goes to you with a special +sincerity as to a gentleman of learning and distinction, whose +lofty motives and ideals are recognized by all."</p> +<p>Each having thus delivered himself of words which meant nothing, +both now seated themselves and proceeded to look mighty grave. For +myself, I stole a glance from the tail of my eye toward the +Baroness von Ritz. She sat erect in her chair, a figure of easy +grace and dignity, but on her face was nothing one could read to +tell who she was or why she was here. So far from any external +<i>gaucherie</i>, she seemed quite as much at home here, and quite +as fit here, as England's plenipotentiary.</p> +<p>"I seize upon this opportunity, Mr. Pakenham," said Mr. Tyler +presently, with a smile which he meant to set all at ease and to +soften as much as possible the severity of that which was to +follow, "I gladly take this opportunity to mention in an informal +way my hope that this matter which was already inaugurated by Mr. +Upshur before his untimely death may come to perfectly pleasant +consummation. I refer to the question of Texas."</p> +<p>"I beg pardon, your Excellency," rejoined Mr. Pakenham, half +rising. "Your meaning is not perfectly clear to me."</p> +<p>The same icy smile sat upon Mr. Tyler's face as he went on: "I +can not believe that your government can wish to interfere in +matters upon this continent to the extent of taking the position of +open ally of the Republic of Mexico, a power so recently at war +upon our own borders with the brave Texans who have left our flag +to set up, through fair conquest, a republic of their own."</p> +<p>The mottled face of Mr. Pakenham assumed a yet deeper red. "As +to that, your Excellency," said he, "your remark is, as you say, +quite informal, of course—that is to say, as I may +state—"</p> +<p>"Quite so," rejoined Mr. Tyler gravely. "The note of my Lord +Aberdeen to us, none the less, in the point of its bearing upon the +question of slavery in Texas, appears to this government as an +expression which ought to be disavowed by your own government. Do I +make myself quite clear?" (With John Calhoun present, Tyler could +at times assume a courage though he had it not.)</p> +<p>Mr. Pakenham's face glowed a deeper red. "I am not at liberty to +discuss my Lord Aberdeen's wishes in this matter," he said. "We met +here upon a purely informal matter, and—"</p> +<p>"I have only ventured to hope," rejoined Mr. Tyler, "that the +personal kindness of your own heart might move you in so grave a +matter as that which may lead to war between two powers."</p> +<p>"War, sir, <i>war</i>?" Mr. Pakenham went wholly purple in his +surprise, and sprang to his feet. "War!" he repeated once more. "As +though there could be any hope—"</p> +<p>"Quite right, sir," said Mr. Tyler grimly. "As though there +could be any hope for us save in our own conduct of our own +affairs, without any interference from any foreign power!"</p> +<p>I knew it was John Calhoun speaking these words, not Mr. Tyler. +I saw Mr. Calhoun's keen, cold eyes fixed closely upon the face of +his president. The consternation created by the latter's words was +plainly visible.</p> +<p>"Of course, this conversation is entirely irregular—I mean +to say, wholly unofficial, your Excellency?" hesitated Pakenham. +"It takes no part in our records?"</p> +<p>"Assuredly not," said Mr. Tyler. "I only hope the question may +never come to a matter of record at all. Once our country knows +that dictation has been attempted with us, even by England herself, +the North will join the South in resentment. Even now, in +restiveness at the fancied attitude of England toward Mexico, the +West raises the demand that we shall end the joint occupancy of +Oregon with Great Britain. Do you perchance know the watchword +which is now on the popular tongue west of the Alleghanies? It bids +fair to become an American <i>Marseillaise</i>."</p> +<p>"I must confess my ignorance," rejoined Mr. Pakenham.</p> +<p>"Our backwoodsmen have invented a phrase which runs +<i>Fifty-four Forty or Fight</i>!"</p> +<p>"I beg pardon, I am sure, your Excellency?"</p> +<p>"It means that if we conclude to terminate the very +unsatisfactory muddle along the Columbia River—a stream which +our mariners first explored, as we contend—and if we conclude +to dispute with England as well regarding our delimitations on the +Southwest, where she has even less right to speak, then we shall +contend for <i>all</i> that territory, not only up to the Columbia, +but north to the Russian line, the parallel of fifty-four degrees +and forty minutes! We claim that we once bought Texas clear to the +Rio Grande, from Napoleon, although the foolish treaty with Spain +in 1819 clouded our title—in the belief of our Whig friends, +who do not desire more slave territory. Even the Whigs think that +we own Oregon by virtue of first navigation of the Columbia. Both +Whigs and Democrats now demand Oregon north to fifty-four degrees, +forty minutes. The alternative? My Lord Aberdeen surely makes no +deliberate bid to hear it!"</p> +<p>"Or fight!" exclaimed Pakenham. "God bless my soul! Fight +<i>us</i>?"</p> +<p>Mr. Tyler flushed. "Such things have been," said he with +dignity.</p> +<p>"That is to say," he resumed calmly, "our rude Westerners are +egotistic and ignorant. I admit that we are young. But believe me, +when the American people say <i>fight</i>, it has but one meaning. +As their servant, I am obliged to convey that meaning. In this +democracy, the will of the people rules. In war, we have no Whigs, +no Democrats, we have only <i>the people</i>!"</p> +<p>At this astounding speech the British minister sat dumfounded. +This air of courage and confidence on the part of Mr. Tyler himself +was something foreign to his record. I knew the reason for his +boldness. John Calhoun sat at his right hand.</p> +<p>At least, the meaning of this sudden assault was too much for +England's representative. Perhaps, indeed, the Berserker blood of +our frontier spoke in Mr. Tyler's gaze. That we would fight indeed +was true enough.</p> +<p>"It only occurs to us, sir," continued the president, "that the +great altruism of England's heart has led her for a moment to utter +sentiments in a form which might, perhaps, not be sanctioned in her +colder judgment. This nation has not asked counsel. We are not yet +agreed in our Congress upon the admission of Texas—although I +may say to you, sir, with fairness, that such is the purpose of +this administration. There being no war, we still have Whigs and +Democrats!"</p> +<p>"At this point, your Excellency, the dignity of her Majesty's +service would lead me to ask excuse," rejoined Mr. Pakenham +formally, "were it not for one fact, which I should like to offer +here. I have, in short, news which will appear full warrant for any +communication thus far made by her Majesty's government. I can +assure you that there has come into the possession of this lady, +whose able services I venture to enlist here in her presence, a +communication from the Republic of Texas to the government of +England. That communication is done by no less a hand than that of +the attaché for the Republic of Texas, Mr. Van Zandt +himself."</p> +<p>There was, I think, no other formal invitation for the Baroness +von Ritz to speak; but now she arose, swept a curtsey first to Mr. +Tyler and then to Mr. Pakenham and Mr. Calhoun.</p> +<p>"It is not to be expected, your Excellency and gentlemen," said +she, "that I can add anything of value here." Her eyes were +demurely downcast.</p> +<p>"We do not doubt your familiarity with many of these late +events," encouraged Mr. Tyler.</p> +<p>"True," she continued, "the note of my Lord Aberdeen is to-day +the property of the streets, and of this I have some knowledge. I +can see, also, difficulty in its reception among the courageous +gentlemen of America. But, as to any written communication from Mr. +Van Zandt, there must be some mistake!"</p> +<p>"I was of the impression that you would have had it last night," +rejoined Pakenham, plainly confused; "in fact, that gentleman +advised me to such effect."</p> +<p>The Baroness Helena von Ritz looked him full in the face and +only gravely shook her head. "I regret matters should be so much at +fault," said she.</p> +<p>"Then let me explain," resumed Pakenham, almost angrily. "I will +state—unofficially, of course—that the promises of Mr. +Van Zandt were that her Majesty might expect an early end of the +talk of the annexation of Texas to the United States. The greater +power of England upon land or sea would assure that weak Republic +of a great and enlightened ally—in his belief."</p> +<p>"An ally!" broke out Mr. Calhoun. "And a document sent to that +effect by the attaché of Texas!" He smiled coldly. "Two +things seem very apparent, Mr. President. First, that this gentle +lady stands high in the respect of England's ministry. Second, that +Mr. Van Zandt, if all this were true, ought to stand very low in +ours. I would say all this and much more, even were it a state +utterance, to stand upon the records of this nation!"</p> +<p>"Sir," interrupted Mr. Tyler, swiftly turning to Mr. Calhoun, +"<i>may I not ask you that it be left as a state +utterance?</i>"</p> +<p>Mr. Calhoun bowed with the old-time grace habitual to him, his +hand upon his heart, but he made no answer. The real reason might +have been read in the mottled face of Pakenham, now all the colors +of the rainbow, as he looked from one to the other.</p> +<p>"Mr. Calhoun," continued the president, "you know that the +office of our secretary of state is vacant. There is no one living +would serve in that office more wisely than yourself, no one more +in accordance with my own views as to these very questions which +are before us. Since it has come to that point, I offer you now +that office, and do so officially. I ask your answer."</p> +<p>The face of England's minister now for the first time went +colorless. He knew what this meant.</p> +<p>As for John Calhoun, he played with both of them as a cat would +with a mouse, sneeringly superior. His answer was couched in terms +suited to his own purposes. "This dignity, Mr. President," said he, +bowing deeply again, "so unexpected, so onerous, so responsible, is +one which at least needs time for proper consideration. I must +crave opportunity for reflection and for pondering. In my surprise +at your sudden request, I find no proper answer ready."</p> +<p>Here, then, seemed an opportunity for delay, which Mr. Pakenham +was swift to grasp. He arose and bowed to Mr. Tyler. "I am sure +that Mr. Calhoun will require some days at least for the framing of +his answer to an invitation so grave as this."</p> +<p>"I shall require at least some moments," said Mr. Calhoun, +smiling. "That <i>Marseillaise</i> of '44, Mr. President, says +<i>Fifty-four Forty or Fight</i>. That means 'the Rio Grande or +fight,' as well."</p> +<p>A short silence fell upon us all. Mr. Tyler half rose and half +frowned as he noticed Mr. Pakenham shuffling as though he would +depart.</p> +<p>"It shall be, of course, as you suggest," said the president to +Pakenham. "There is no record of any of this. But the answer of Mr. +Calhoun, which I await and now demand, is one which will go upon +the records of this country soon enough, I fancy. I ask you, then, +to hear what Mr. Calhoun replies."</p> +<p>Ah, it was well arranged and handsomely staged, this little +comedy, and done for the benefit of England, after all! I almost +might have believed that Mr. Calhoun had rehearsed this with the +president. Certainly, the latter knew perfectly well what his +answer was to be. Mr. Calhoun himself made that deliberately plain, +when presently he arose.</p> +<p>"I have had some certain moments for reflection, Mr. President," +said he, "and I have from the first moment of this surprising offer +on your part been humbly sensible of the honor offered so old and +so unfit a man.</p> +<p>"Sir, my own record, thank God, is clear. I have stood for the +South. I stand now for Texas. I believe in her and her future. She +belongs to us, as I have steadfastly insisted at all hours and in +all places. She will widen the southern vote in Congress, that is +true. She will be for slavery. That also is true. I myself have +stood for slavery, but I am yet more devoted to democracy and to +America than I am to the South and to slavery. So will Texas be. I +know what Texas means. She means for us also Oregon. She means more +than that. She means also a democracy spreading across this entire +continent. My attitude in that regard has been always clear. I have +not sought to change it. Sir, if I take this office which you +offer, I do so with the avowed and expressed purpose of bringing +Texas into this Union, in full view of any and all consequences. I +shall offer her a treaty of annexation <i>at once!</i> I shall urge +annexation at every hour, in every place, in all ways within my +means, and in full view of the consequences!" He looked now gravely +and keenly at the English plenipotentiary.</p> +<p>"That is well understood, Mr. Calhoun," began Mr. Tyler. "Your +views are in full accord with my own."</p> +<p>Pakenham looked from the one to the other, from the thin, +vulpine face to the thin, leonine one. The pity Mr. Tyler felt for +the old man's visible weakness showed on his face as he spoke.</p> +<p>"What, then, is the answer of John Calhoun to this latest call +of his country?"</p> +<p>That answer is one which is in our history.</p> +<p>"John Calhoun accepts!" said my master, loud and clear.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>A KETTLE OF FISH</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Few disputes exist which have not had their origin in +women—<i>Juvenal</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>I saw the heavy face of Mr. Pakenham go pale, saw the face of +the Baroness von Ritz flash with a swift resolution, saw the eyes +of Mr. Calhoun and Mr. Tyler meet in firmness. An instant later, +Mr. Tyler rose and bowed our dismissal. Our little play was done. +Which of us knew all the motives that had lain behind its +setting?</p> +<p>Mr. Pakenham drew apart and engaged in earnest speech with the +lady who had accompanied him; so that meantime I myself found +opportunity for a word with Mr. Calhoun.</p> +<p>"Now," said I, "the fat certainly is all in the fire!"</p> +<p>"What fat, my son?" asked Calhoun serenely; "and what fire?"</p> +<p>"At least"—and I grinned covertly, I fear—"it seems +all over between my lady and her protector there. She turned +traitor just when he had most need of her! Tell me, what argument +did you use with her last night?"</p> +<p>Mr. Calhoun took snuff.</p> +<p>"You don't know women, my son, and you don't know men, either." +The thin white skin about his eyes wrinkled.</p> +<p>"Certainly, I don't know what arts may have been employed in Mr. +Calhoun's office at half-past two this morning." I smiled frankly +now at my chief, and he relaxed in turn.</p> +<p>"We had a most pleasant visit of an hour. A delightful woman, a +charming woman, and one of intellect as well. I appealed to her +heart, her brain, her purse, and she laughed, for the most part. +Yet she argued, too, and seemed to have some interest—as you +see proved now. Ah, I wish I could have had the other two great +motives to add to my appeal!"</p> +<p>"Meaning—?"</p> +<p>"Love—and curiosity! With those added, I could have won +her over; for believe me, she is none too firmly anchored to +England. I am sure of that, though it leaves me still puzzled. If +you think her personal hold on yonder gentleman will be lessened, +you err," he added, in a low voice. "I consider it sure that he is +bent on her as much as he is on England. See, she has him back in +hand already! I would she were <i>our</i> friend!"</p> +<p>"Is she not?" I asked suddenly.</p> +<p>"We two may answer that one day," said Calhoun +enigmatically.</p> +<p>Now I offered to Mr. Calhoun the note I had received from his +page.</p> +<p>"This journey to-night," I began; "can I not be excused from +making that? There is a very special reason."</p> +<p>"What can it be?" asked Calhoun, frowning.</p> +<p>"I am to be married to-night, sir," said I, calmly as I +could.</p> +<p>It was Calhoun's turn now to be surprised. "<i>Married?</i> +Zounds! boy, what do you mean? There is no time to waste."</p> +<p>"I do not hold it quite wasted, sir," said I with dignity. "Miss +Elisabeth Churchill and I for a long time—"</p> +<p>"Miss Elisabeth! So the wind is there, eh? My daughter's friend. +I know her very well, of course. Very well done, indeed, for you. +But there can be no wedding to-night."</p> +<p>I looked at him in amazement. He was as absorbed as though he +felt empowered to settle that matter for me. A moment later, seeing +Mr. Pakenham taking his leave, he stepped to the side of the +baroness. I saw him and that mysterious lady fall into a +conversation as grave as that which had but now been ended. I +guessed, rather than reasoned, that in some mysterious way I came +into their talk. But presently both approached me.</p> +<p>"Mr. Trist," said Mr. Calhoun, "I beg you to hand the Baroness +von Ritz to her carriage, which will wait at the avenue." We were +then standing near the door at the head of the steps.</p> +<p>"I see my friend Mr. Polk approaching," he continued, "and I +would like to have a word or so with him."</p> +<p>We three walked in company down the steps and a short distance +along the walk, until presently we faced the gentleman whose +approach had been noted. We paused in a little group under the +shade of an avenue tree, and the gentlemen removed their hats as +Mr. Calhoun made a somewhat formal introduction.</p> +<p>At that time, of course, James K. Polk, of Tennessee, was not +the national figure he was soon to become at the Baltimore +convention. He was known best as Speaker of the House for some +time, and as a man experienced in western politics, a friend of +Jackson, who still controlled a large wing of the disaffected; the +Democratic party then being scarce more than a league of warring +cliques. Although once governor of Tennessee, it still was an honor +for Mr. Polk to be sought out by Senator John Calhoun, sometime +vice-president, sometime cabinet member in different capacities. He +showed this as he uncovered. A rather short man, and thin, +well-built enough, and of extremely serious mien, he scarce could +have been as wise as he looked, any more than Mr. Daniel Webster; +yet he was good example of conventional politics, platitudes and +all.</p> +<p>"They have adjourned at the House, then?" said Calhoun.</p> +<p>"Yes, and adjourned a bear pit at that," answered the gentleman +from Tennessee. "Mr. Tyler has asked me to come across town to meet +him. Do you happen to know where he is now?"</p> +<p>"He was here a few moments ago, Governor. We were but escorting +this lady to her carriage, as she claims fatigue from late hours at +the ball last night."</p> +<p>"Surely so radiant a presence," said Mr. Polk gallantly, "means +that she left the ball at an early hour."</p> +<p>"Quite so," replied that somewhat uncertain lady demurely. +"Early hours and a good conscience are advised by my +physicians."</p> +<p>"My dear lady, Time owns his own defeat in you," Mr. Polk +assured her, his eyes sufficiently admiring.</p> +<p>"Such pretty speeches as these gentlemen of America make!" was +her gay reply. "Is it not so, Mr. Secretary?" She smiled up at +Calhoun's serious face.</p> +<p>Polk was possessed of a political nose which rarely failed him. +"<i>Mr. Secretary?</i>" he exclaimed, turning to Calhoun.</p> +<p>The latter bowed. "I have just accepted the place lately filled +by Mr. Upshur," was his comment.</p> +<p>A slow color rose in the Tennesseean's face as he held out his +hand. "I congratulate you, Mr. Secretary," said he. "Now at last we +shall see an end of indecision and boasting pretense."</p> +<p>"Excellent things to end, Governor Polk!" said Calhoun +gravely.</p> +<p>"I am but an humble adviser," rejoined the man from Tennessee; +"but assuredly I must hasten to congratulate Mr. Tyler. I have no +doubt that this means Texas. Of course, my dear Madam, we talk +riddles in your presence?"</p> +<p>"Quite riddles, although I remain interested," she answered. I +saw her cool eyes take in his figure, measuring him calmly for her +mental tablets, as I could believe was her wont. "But I find myself +indeed somewhat fatigued," she continued, "and since these are +matters of which I am ignorant—"</p> +<p>"Of course, Madam," said Mr. Calhoun. "We crave your pardon. Mr. +Trist—"</p> +<p>So now I took the lady's sunshade from her hand, and we two, +making adieux, passed down the shaded walk toward the avenue.</p> +<p>"You are a good cavalier," she said to me. "I find you not so +fat as Mr. Pakenham, nor so thin as Mr. Calhoun. My faith, could +you have seen that gentleman this morning in a wrapper—and in +a red worsted nightcap!"</p> +<p>"But what did you determine?" I asked her suddenly. "What has my +chief said to cause you to fail poor Mr. Pakenham as you did? I +pitied the poor man, in such a grueling, and wholly without +warning!"</p> +<p>"Monsieur is droll," she replied evasively. "As though I had +changed! I will say this much: I think Sir Richard will care more +for Mexico and less for Mexicans after this! But you do not tell me +when you are coming to see me, to bring back my little shoe. Its +mate has arrived by special messenger, but the pair remains still +broken. Do you come to-night—this afternoon?"</p> +<p>"I wish that I might," said I.</p> +<p>"Why be churlish with me?" she demanded. "Did I not call at your +request upon a gentleman in a red nightcap at two in the morning? +And for your sake—and the sake of sport—did I not +almost promise him many things? Come now, am I not to see you and +explain all that; and hear you explain all this?" She made a little +<i>moue</i> at me.</p> +<p>"It would be my delight, Madam, but there are two +reasons—"</p> +<p>"One, then."</p> +<p>"I am going to Montreal to-night, for one."</p> +<p>She gave me a swift glance, which I could not understand.</p> +<p>"So?" she said. "Why so soon?"</p> +<p>"Orders," said I briefly. "But perhaps I may not obey orders for +once. There is another reason."</p> +<p>"And that one?"</p> +<p>"I am to be married at six."</p> +<p>I turned to enjoy her consternation. Indeed, there was an +alternate white and red passed across her face! But at once she was +in hand.</p> +<p>"And you allowed me to become your devoted slave," she said, +"even to the extent of calling upon a man in a red nightcap; and +then, even upon a morning like this, when the birds sing so sweetly +and the little flowers show pink and white—now you cast down +my most sacred feelings!"</p> +<p>The mockery in her tone was perfect. I scarce had paused to note +it. I was absorbed in one thought—of Elisabeth. Where one +fire burns high and clear upon the altar of the heart, there is +small room for any other.</p> +<p>"I might have told you," said I at Last, "but I did not myself +know it until this morning."</p> +<p>"My faith, this country!" she exclaimed with genuine surprise. +"What extraordinary things it does! I have just seen history made +between the lightings of a cigarette, as it were. Now comes this +man and announces that since midnight he has met and won the lady +who is to rule his heart, and that he is to marry her at six!"</p> +<p>"Then congratulate me!" I demanded.</p> +<p>"Ah," she said, suddenly absorbed; "it was that tall girl! Yes, +yes, I see, I see! I understand! So then! Yes!"</p> +<p>"But still you have not congratulated me."</p> +<p>"Ah, Monsieur," she answered lightly, "one woman never +congratulates a man when he has won another! What of my own heart? +Fie! Fie!" Yet she had curious color in her face.</p> +<p>"I do not credit myself with such fatal charms," said I. "Rather +say what of my little clasp there. I promised that to the tall +girl, as you know."</p> +<p>"And might I not wear it for an hour?"</p> +<p>"I shall give you a dozen better some time," said I; "but +to-night—"</p> +<p>"And my slipper? I said I must have that back, because I can not +hop along with but one shoe all my life."</p> +<p>"That you shall have as soon as I can get to my rooms at Brown's +Hotel yonder. A messenger shall bring it to you at once. Time will +indeed be short for me. First, the slipper for Madam. Then the +license for myself. Then the minister. Then a friend. Then a +carriage. Five miles to Elmhurst, and the train for the North +starts at eight. Indeed, as you say, the methods of this country +are sometimes hurried. Madam, can not you use your wits in a cause +so worthy as mine?"</p> +<p>I could not at the time understand the swift change of her +features. "One woman's wits against another's!" she flashed at me. +"As for that"—She made a swift motion to her throat. "Here is +the trinket. Tell the tall lady it is my present to you. Tell her I +may send her a wedding present—when the wedding really is to +happen. Of course, you do not mean what you have said about being +married in such haste?"</p> +<p>"Every word of it," I answered. "And at her own home. 'Tis no +runaway match; I have the consent of her father."</p> +<p>"But you said you had her consent only an hour ago. Ah, this is +better than a play!"</p> +<p>"It is true," said I, "there has not been time to inform Miss +Churchill's family of my need for haste. I shall attend to that +when I arrive. The lady has seen the note from Mr. Calhoun ordering +me to Montreal."</p> +<p>"To Montreal? How curious!" she mused. "But what did Mr. Calhoun +say to this marriage?"</p> +<p>"He forbade the banns."</p> +<p>"But Monsieur will take her before him in a sack—and he +will forbid you, I am sure, to condemn that lady to a life in a +cabin, to a couch of husks, to a lord who would crush her arms and +command her—"</p> +<p>I flushed as she reminded me of my own speech, and there came no +answer but the one which I imagine is the verdict of all lovers. +"She is the dearest girl in the world," I declared.</p> +<p>"Has she fortune?"</p> +<p>"I do not know."</p> +<p>"Have you fortune?"</p> +<p>"God knows, no!"</p> +<p>"You have but love-and this country?"</p> +<p>"That is all."</p> +<p>"It is enough," said she, sighing. "Dear God, it is enough! But +then"-she turned to me suddenly—"I don't think you will be +married so soon, after all. Wait."</p> +<p>"That is what Mr. Pakenham wanted Mr. Calhoun to do," I +smiled.</p> +<p>"But Mr. Pakenham is not a woman."</p> +<p>"Ah, then you also forbid our banns?"</p> +<p>"If you challenge me," she retorted, "I shall do my worst."</p> +<p>"Then do your worst!" I said. "All of you do your joint worst. +You can not shake the faith of Elisabeth Churchill in me, nor mine +in her. Oh, yes, by all means do your worst!"</p> +<p>"Very well," she said, with a catch of her breath. "At least we +both said—'on guard!'</p> +<p>"I wish I could ask you to attend at our wedding," I concluded, +as her carriage approached the curb; "but it is safe to say that +not even friends of the family will be present, and of those not +all the family will be friends."</p> +<p>She did not seem to see her carriage as it paused, although she +prepared to enter when I opened the door. Her look, absorbed, +general, seemed rather to take in the sweep of the wide grounds, +the green of the young springtime, the bursting of the new white +blossoms, the blue of the sky, the loom of the distant capitol +dome—all the crude promise of our young and tawdry capital, +still in the making of a world city. Her eyes passed to me and +searched my face without looking into my eyes, as though I made +part of her study. What sat on her face was perplexity, wonder, +amazement, and something else, I know not what. Something of her +perfect poise and confidence, her quality as woman of the world, +seemed to drop away. A strange and childlike quality came into her +face, a pathos unlike anything I had seen there before. She took my +hand mechanically.</p> +<p>"Of course," said she, as though she spoke to herself, "it can +not be. But, dear God! would it not be enough?"</p> +<p>I did not understand her speech. I stood and watched her +carriage as it whirled away. Thinking of my great need for haste, +mechanically I looked at my watch. It was one o'clock. Then I +reflected that it was at eleven of the night previous that I had +first met the Baroness von Ritz. Our acquaintance had therefore +lasted some fourteen hours.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>MIXED DUTIES</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Most women will forgive a liberty, rather than a slight.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">—<i>Colton</i>.</span></p> +</div> +<p>When I crossed the White House grounds and found my way to the +spot where I had left my horse, I discovered my darky boy lying on +his back, fast asleep under a tree, the bridle reins hooked over +his upturned foot. I wakened him, took the reins and was about to +mount, when at the moment I heard my name called.</p> +<p>Turning, I saw emerge from the door of Gautier's little +café, across the street, the tall figure of an erstwhile +friend of mine, Jack Dandridge, of Tennessee, credited with being +the youngest member in the House of Representatives at +Washington—and credited with little else.</p> +<p>Dandridge had been taken up by friends of Jackson and Polk and +carried into Congress without much plan or objection on either +side. Since his arrival at the capital he had been present at few +roll-calls, and had voted on fewer measures. His life was given up +in the main to one specialty, to-wit: the compounding of a certain +beverage, invented by himself, the constituent parts of which were +Bourbon whiskey, absinthe, square faced gin and a dash of <i>eau de +vie</i>. This concoction, over which few shared his own personal +enthusiasm, he had christened the Barn-Burner's Dream; although Mr. +Dandridge himself was opposed to the tenets of the political party +thus entitled—which, by the way, was to get its whimsical +name, possibly from Dandridge himself, at the forthcoming +Democratic convention of that year.</p> +<p>Jack Dandridge, it may be said, was originally possessed of a +splendid constitution. Nearly six feet tall, his full and somewhat +protruding eye was as yet only a trifle watery, his wide lip only a +trifle loose, his strong figure only a trifle portly. Socially he +had been well received in our city, and during his stay east of the +mountains he had found occasion to lay desperate suit to the hand +of none other than Miss Elisabeth Churchill. We had been rivals, +although not enemies; for Jack, finding which way the wind sat for +him, withdrew like a man, and cherished no ill will. When I saw him +now, a sudden idea came to me, so that I crossed the street at his +invitation.</p> +<p>"Come in," said he. "Come in with me, and have a Dream. I have +just invented a new touch for it; I have, 'pon my word."</p> +<p>"Jack," I exclaimed, grasping him by the shoulder, "you are the +man I want. You are the friend that I need—the very one."</p> +<p>"Certainly, certainly," he said; "but please do not disarrange +my cravat. Sir, I move you the previous question. Will you have a +Dream with me? I construct them now with three additional squirts +of the absinthe." He locked his arm in mine.</p> +<p>"You may have a Dream," said I; "but for me, I need all my head +to-day. In short, I need both our heads as well."</p> +<p>Jack was already rapping with the head of his cane upon the +table, to call an attendant, but he turned to me. "What is the +matter? Lady, this time?"</p> +<p>"Two of them."</p> +<p>"Indeed? One apiece, eh?"</p> +<p>"None apiece, perhaps. In any case, you lose."</p> +<p>"Then the names—or at least one?"</p> +<p>I flushed a bit in spite of myself. "You know Miss Elisabeth +Churchill?"</p> +<p>He nodded gravely. "And about the other lady?"</p> +<p>"I can not tell you much about her," said I; "I have but little +knowledge myself. I mean the Baroness von Ritz."</p> +<p>"Oh, ho!" Jack opened his eyes, and gave a long whistle. "State +secrets, eh?"</p> +<p>I nodded, and looked him square in the eye.</p> +<p>"Well, why should you ask me to help you, then? Calhoun is none +too good a friend of Mr. Polk, of my state. Calhoun is neither Whig +nor Democrat. He does not know where he stands. If you train with +him, why come to our camp for help?"</p> +<p>"Not that sort, jack," I answered. "The favor I ask is +personal."</p> +<p>"Explain."</p> +<p>He sipped at the fiery drink, which by this time had been placed +before him, his face brightening.</p> +<p>"I must be quick. I have in my possession—on the bureau in +my little room at my quarters in Brown's Hotel—a slipper +which the baroness gave me last night—a white satin +slipper—"</p> +<p>Jack finished the remainder of his glass at a gulp. "Good God!" +he remarked.</p> +<p>"Quite right," I retorted hotly. "Accuse me Anything you like! +But go to my headquarters, get that slipper, go to this address +with it"—I scrawled on a piece of paper and thrust it at +him—"then get a carriage and hasten to Elmhurst drive, where +it turns in at the road. Wait for me there, just before six."</p> +<p>He sat looking at me with amusement and amazement both upon his +face, as I went on:</p> +<p>"Listen to what I am to do in the meantime. First I go post +haste to Mr. Calhoun's office. Then I am to take his message, which +will send me to Canada, to-night. After I have my orders I hurry +back to Brown's and dress for my wedding."</p> +<p>The glass in his hand dropped to the floor in splinters.</p> +<p>"Your wedding?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Miss Elisabeth and I concluded this very morning not to +wait. I would ask you to help me as my best man, if I dare."</p> +<p>"You do dare," said he. "You're all a-fluster. Go on; I'll get a +parson—how'll Doctor Halford do?—and I'd take care of +the license for you if I could—Gad! sorry it's not my +own!"</p> +<p>"You are the finest fellow in the world, Jack. I have only one +thing more to ask"—I pointed to the splintered glass upon the +floor—"Don't get another."</p> +<p>"Of course not, of course not!" he expostulated. His voice was +just a trifle thickened. We left now together for the license +clerk, and I intrusted the proper document in my friend's hands. An +instant later I was outside, mounted, and off for Calhoun's office +at his residence in Georgetown.</p> +<p>At last, as for the fourth time I flung down the narrow walk and +looked down the street, I saw his well-known form approaching. He +walked slowly, somewhat stooped upon his cane. He raised a hand as +I would have begun to speak. His customary reserve and dignity held +me back.</p> +<p>"So you made it out well with the lady," he began.</p> +<p>"Yes," I answered, flushing. "Not so badly for the time that +offered."</p> +<p>"A remarkable woman," he said. "Most remarkable!" Then he went +on: "Now as to your own intended, I congratulate you. But I suggest +that you keep Miss Elisabeth Churchill and the Baroness von Ritz +pretty well separated, if that be possible."</p> +<p>"Sir," I stammered; "that certainly is my personal intent. But +now, may I ask—"</p> +<p>"You start to Canada to-night," said Calhoun sharply—all +softness gone from his voice.</p> +<p>"I can not well do that," I began. His hand tapped with +decision.</p> +<p>"I have no time to choose another messenger," he said. "Time +will not wait. You must not fail me. You will take the railway +train at eight. You will be joined by Doctor Samuel Ward, who will +give you a sealed paper, which will contain your instructions, and +the proper moneys. He goes as far as Baltimore."</p> +<p>"You would be the better agent," he added presently, "if this +love silliness were out of your head. It is not myself you are +serving, and not my party. It is this country you are serving."</p> +<p>"But, sir—" I began.</p> +<p>His long thin hand was imperative. "Go on, then, with your +wedding, if you will, and if you can; but see that you do not miss +the train at eight!"</p> +<p>Half in a daze, I left him; nor did I see him again that day, +nor for many after.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>WHO GIVETH THIS WOMAN</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Woman is a miracle of divine contradictions.—<i>Jules +Michelet</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>On my return to my quarters at Brown's I looked at the top of my +bureau. It was empty. My friend Dandridge had proved faithful. The +slipper of the baroness was gone! So now, hurriedly, I began my +toilet for that occasion which to any gentleman should be the one +most exacting, the most important of his life's events.</p> +<p>Elisabeth deserved better than this unseemly haste. Her +sweetness and dignity, her adherence to the forms of life, her +acquaintance with the elegancies, the dignities and conventions of +the best of our society, bespoke for her ceremony more suited to +her class and mine. Nothing could excuse these hurly burly ways +save only my love, our uncertainty regarding my future presence, +and the imperious quality of my duties.</p> +<p>I told none about my quarters anything of my plans, but arranged +for my portmanteaus to be sent to the railway station for that +evening's train north. We had not many outgoing and incoming trains +in those days in Washington. I hurried to Bond's jewelry place and +secured a ring—two rings, indeed; for, in our haste, +betrothal and wedding ring needed their first use at the same day +and hour. I found a waiting carriage which served my purpose, and +into it I flung, urging the driver to carry me at top speed into +Elmhurst road. Having now time for breath, I sat back and consulted +my watch. There were a few moments left for me to compose myself. +If all went well, I should be in time.</p> +<p>As we swung down the road I leaned forward, studying with +interest the dust cloud of an approaching carriage. As it came +near, I called to my driver. The two vehicles paused almost wheel +to wheel. It was my friend Jack Dandridge who sprawled on the rear +seat of the carriage! That is to say, the fleshly portion of Jack +Dandridge. His mind, his memory, and all else, were gone.</p> +<p>I sprang into his carriage and caught him roughly by the arm. I +felt in all his pockets, looked on the carriage floor, on the seat, +and pulled up the dust rug. At last I found the license.</p> +<p>"Did you see the baroness?" I asked, then.</p> +<p>At this he beamed upon me with a wide smile.</p> +<p>"Did I?" said he, with gravity pulling down his long buff +waistcoat. "Did I? Mos' admi'ble woman in all the worl'! Of course, +Miss 'Lis'beth Churchill also mos' admi'ble woman in the worl'," he +added politely, "but I didn't see <i>her</i>. Many, many +congrash'lations. Mos' admi'ble girl in worl'—whichever girl +she is! I want do what's right!"</p> +<p>The sudden sweat broke out upon my forehead. "Tell me, what have +you done with the slipper!"</p> +<p>He shook his head sadly. "Mishtaken, my friend! I gave mos' +admi'ble slipper in the worl', just ash you said, just as baroness +said, to Mish Elisabeth Churchill—mos' admi'ble woman in the +worl'! Proud congrash'late you both, m' friend!"</p> +<p>"Did you see her?" I gasped. "Did you see her father—any +of her family?"</p> +<p>"God blesh me, no!" rejoined this young statesman. "Feelings +delicacy prevented. Realized having had +three—four—five—Barn Burners; washn't in fit +condition to approach family mansion. Alwaysh mos' delicate. Felt +m'self no condition shtan' up bes' man to mosh admi'ble man and +mosh admi'ble girl in worl'. Sent packazh in by servant, from +gate—turned round—drove off—found you. Lo, th' +bridegroom cometh! Li'l late!"</p> +<p>My only answer was to spring from his carriage into my own and +to order my driver to go on at a run. At last I reached the +driveway of Elmhurst, my carriage wheels cutting the gravel as we +galloped up to the front door. My approach was noted. Even as I +hurried up the steps the tall form of none other than Mr. Daniel +Churchill appeared to greet me. I extended my hand. He did not +notice it. I began to speak. He bade me pause.</p> +<p>"To what may I attribute this visit, Mr. Trist?" he asked me, +with dignity.</p> +<p>"Since you ask me, and seem not to know," I replied, "I may say +that I am here to marry your daughter, Miss Elisabeth! I presume +that the minister of the gospel is already here?"</p> +<p>"The minister is here," he answered. "There lacks one +thing—the bride."</p> +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> +<p>He put out his arm across the door.</p> +<p>"I regret that I must bar my door to you. But you must take my +word, as coming from my daughter, that you are not to come here +to-night."</p> +<p>I looked at him, my eyes staring wide. I could not believe what +he said.</p> +<p>"Why," I began; "how utterly monstrous!"</p> +<p>A step sounded in the hall behind him, and he turned back. We +were joined by the tall clerical figure of the Reverend Doctor +Halford, who had, it seemed, been at least one to keep his +appointment as made. He raised his hand as if to silence me, and +held out to me a certain object. It was the slipper of the Baroness +Helena von Ritz—white, delicate, dainty, beribboned. "Miss +Elisabeth does not pretend to understand why your gift should take +this form; but as the slipper evidently has been worn by some one, +she suggests you may perhaps be in error in sending it at all." He +spoke in even, icy tones.</p> +<p>"Let me into this house!" I demanded. "I must see her!"</p> +<p>There were two tall figures now, who stood side by side in the +wide front door.</p> +<p>"But don't you see, there has been a mistake, a horrible +mistake?" I demanded.</p> +<p>Doctor Halford, in his grave and quiet way, assisted himself to +snuff. "Sir," he said, "knowing both families, I agreed to this +haste and unceremoniousness, much against my will. Had there been +no objection upon either side, I would have undertaken to go +forward with the wedding ceremony. But never in my life have I, and +never shall I, join two in wedlock when either is not in that state +of mind and soul consonant with that holy hour. This ceremony can +not go on. I must carry to you this young lady's wish that you +depart. She can not see you."</p> +<p>There arose in my heart a sort of feeling of horror, as though +something was wrong, I could not tell what. All at once I felt a +swift revulsion. There came over me the reaction, an icy calm. I +felt all ardor leave me. I was cold as stone.</p> +<p>"Gentlemen," said I slowly, "what you tell me is absolutely +impossible and absurd. But if Miss Elisabeth really doubts me on +evidence such as this, I would be the last man in the world to ask +her hand. Some time you and she may explain to me about this. It is +my right. I shall exact it from you later. I have no time to argue +now. Good-by!"</p> +<p>They looked at me with grave faces, but made no reply. I +descended the steps, the dainty, beribboned slipper still in my +hand, got into my carriage and started back to the city.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>THE MARATHON</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>As if two gods should play some heavenly match, and on this +wager lay two earthly women.—<i>Shakespeare</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>An automaton, scarcely thinking, I gained the platform of the +station. There was a sound of hissing steam, a rolling cloud of +sulphurous smoke, a shouting of railway captains, a creaking of the +wheels. Without volition of my own, I was on my northward journey. +Presently I looked around and found seated at my side the man whom +I then recollected I was to meet—Doctor Samuel Ward. I +presume he took the train after I did.</p> +<p>"What's wrong, Nicholas?" he asked. "Trouble of any kind?"</p> +<p>I presume that the harsh quality of my answer surprised him. He +looked at me keenly.</p> +<p>"Tell me what's up, my son," said he.</p> +<p>"You know Miss Elisabeth Churchill—" I hesitated.</p> +<p>He nodded. "Yes," he rejoined; "and damn you, sir! if you give +that girl a heartache, you'll have to settle with me!"</p> +<p>"Some one will have to settle with me!" I returned hotly.</p> +<p>"Tell me, then."</p> +<p>So, briefly, I did tell him what little I knew of the events of +the last hour. I told him of the shame and humiliation of it all. +He pondered for a minute and asked me at length if I believed Miss +Elisabeth suspected anything of my errand of the night before.</p> +<p>"How could she?" I answered. "So far as I can recollect I never +mentioned the name of the Baroness von Ritz."</p> +<p>Then, all at once, I did recollect! I did remember that I had +mentioned the name of the baroness that very morning to Elisabeth, +when the baroness passed us in the East Room! I had not told the +truth—I had gone with a lie on my lips that very day, and +asked her to take vows with me in which no greater truth ought to +be heard than the simple truth from me to her, in any hour of the +day, in any time of our two lives!</p> +<p>Doctor Ward was keen enough to see the sudden confusion on my +face, but he made no comment beyond saying that he doubted not time +would clear it all up; that he had known many such affairs.</p> +<p>"But mind you one thing," he added; "keep those two women +apart."</p> +<p>"Then why do you two doddering old idiots, you and John Calhoun, +with life outworn and the blood dried in your veins, send me, since +you doubt me so much, on an errand of this kind? You see what it +has done for me. I am done with John Calhoun. He may get some other +fool for his service."</p> +<p>"Where do you propose going, then, my friend?"</p> +<p>"West," I answered. "West to the Rockies—"</p> +<p>Doctor Ward calmly produced a tortoise shell snuffbox from his +left-hand waistcoat pocket, and deliberately took snuff. "You are +going to do nothing of the kind," said he calmly. "You are going to +keep your promise to John Calhoun and to me. Believe me, the +business in hand is vital. You go to Canada now in the most +important capacity you have ever had."</p> +<p>"I care nothing for that," I answered bitterly.</p> +<p>"But you are the agent of your country. You are called to do +your country's urgent work. Here is your trouble over one girl. +Would you make trouble for a million American girls—would you +unsettle thousands and thousands of American homes because, for a +time, you have known trouble? All life is only trouble vanquished. +I ask you now to be a man; I not only expect it, but demand it of +you!"</p> +<p>His words carried weight in spite of myself. I began to listen. +I took from his hand the package, looked at it, examined it. +Finally, as he sat silently regarding me, I broke the seal.</p> +<p>"Now, Nicholas Trist," resumed Doctor Ward presently, "there is +to be at Montreal at the date named in these papers a meeting of +the directors of the Hudson Bay Company of England. There will be +big men there—the biggest their country can produce; leaders +of the Hudson Bay Company, many, public men even of England. It is +rumored that a brother of Lord Aberdeen, of the British Ministry, +will attend. Do you begin to understand?"</p> +<p>Ah, did I not? Here, then, was further weaving of those complex +plots which at that time hedged in all our history as a republic. +Now I guessed the virtue of our knowing somewhat of England's +secret plans, as she surely did of ours. I began to feel behind me +the impulse of John Calhoun's swift energy.</p> +<p>"It is Oregon!" I exclaimed at last.</p> +<p>Doctor Ward nodded. "Very possibly. It has seemed to Mr. Calhoun +very likely that we may hear something of great importance +regarding the far Northwest. A missed cog now may cost this country +a thousand miles of territory, a hundred years of history."</p> +<p>Doctor Ward continued: "England, as you know," said he, "is the +enemy of this country as much to-day as ever. She claims she wishes +Texas to remain free. She forgets her own record—forgets the +burning cities of Rohilkhand, the imprisoned princesses of Oudh! +Might is her right. She wants Texas as a focus of contention, a +rallying point of sectionalism. If she divides us, she conquers us. +That is all. She wants the chance for the extension of her own hold +on this continent, which she will push as far, and fast as she +dare. She must have cotton. She would like land as well."</p> +<p>"That means also Oregon?"</p> +<p>He nodded. "Always with the Texas question comes the Oregon +question. Mr. Calhoun is none too friendly to Mr. Polk, and yet he +knows that through Jackson's influence with the Southern democracy +Polk has an excellent chance for the next nomination for the +presidency. God knows what folly will come then. But sometime, one +way or another, the joint occupancy of England and the United +States in the Oregon country must end. It has been a waiting game +thus far, as you know; but never think that England has been idle. +This meeting in Montreal will prove that to you."</p> +<p>In spite of myself, I began to feel the stimulus of a thought +like this. It was my salvation as a man. I began to set aside +myself and my own troubles.</p> +<p>"You are therefore," he concluded, "to go to Montreal, and find +your own way into that meeting of the directors of the Hudson Bay +Company. There is a bare chance that in this intrigue Mexico will +have an emissary on the ground as well. There is reason to suspect +her hostility to all our plans of extension, southwest and +northwest. Naturally, it is the card of Mexico to bring on war, or +accept it if we urge; but only in case she has England as her ally. +England will get her pay by taking Texas, and what is more, by +taking California, which Mexico does not value. She owes England +large sums now. That would leave England owner of the Pacific +coast; for, once she gets California, she will fight us then for +<i>all</i> of Oregon. It is your duty to learn all of these +matters—who is there, what is done; and to do this without +making known your own identity."</p> +<p>I sat for a moment in thought. "It is an honor," said I finally; +"an honor so large that under it I feel small."</p> +<p>"Now," said Doctor Ward, placing a gnarled hand on my shoulder, +"you begin to talk like a Marylander. It's a race, my boy, a race +across this continent. There are two trails—one north and one +mid-continent. On these paths two nations contend in the greatest +Marathon of all the world. England or the United +States—monarchy or republic—aristocracy or humanity'? +These are some of the things which hang on the issue of this +contest. Take then your duty and your honor, humbly and +faithfully."</p> +<p>"Good-by," he said, as we steamed into Baltimore station. I +turned, and he was gone.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>ON SECRET SERVICE</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>If the world was lost through woman, she alone can save +it.—<i>Louis de Beaufort.</i></p> +</div> +<p>In the days of which I write, our civilization was, as I may +say, so embryonic, that it is difficult for us now to realize the +conditions which then obtained. We had great men in those days, and +great deeds were done; but to-day, as one reflects upon life as it +then was, it seems almost impossible that they and their deeds +could have existed in a time so crude and immature.</p> +<p>The means of travel in its best form was at that time at least +curious. We had several broken railway systems north and south, but +there were not then more than five thousand miles of railway built +in America. All things considered, I felt lucky when we reached New +York less than twenty-four hours out from Washington.</p> +<p>From New York northward to Montreal one's journey involved a +choice of routes. One might go up the Hudson River by steamer to +Albany, and thence work up the Champlain Lake system, above which +one might employ a short stretch of rails between St. John and La +Prairie, on the banks of the St. Lawrence opposite Montreal. Or, +one might go from Albany west by rail as far as Syracuse, up the +Mohawk Valley, and so to Oswego, where on Lake Ontario one might +find steam or sailing craft.</p> +<p>Up the Hudson I took the crack steamer <i>Swallow</i>, the same +which just one year later was sunk while trying to beat her own +record of nine hours and two minutes from New York to Albany. She +required eleven hours on our trip. Under conditions then obtaining, +it took me a day and a half more to reach Lake Ontario. Here, +happily, I picked up a frail steam craft, owned by an adventurous +soul who was not unwilling to risk his life and that of others on +the uncertain and ice-filled waters of Ontario. With him I +negotiated to carry me with others down the St. Lawrence. At that +time, of course, the Lachine Canal was not completed, and the +Victoria Bridge was not even conceived as a possibility. One delay +after another with broken machinery, lack of fuel, running ice and +what not, required five days more of my time ere I reached +Montreal.</p> +<p>I could not be called either officer or spy, yet none the less I +did not care to be recognized here in the capacity of one +over-curious. I made up my costume as that of an innocent free +trader from the Western fur country of the states, and was able, +from my earlier experiences, to answer any questions as to beaver +at Fort Hall or buffalo on the Yellowstone or the Red. Thus I +passed freely in and about all the public places of the town, and +inspected with a certain personal interest all its points of +interest, from the Gray Nunneries to the new cathedrals, the Place +d'Armes, the Champ de Mars, the barracks, the vaunted brewery, the +historic mountain, and the village lying between the arms of the +two rivers—a point where history for a great country had been +made, and where history for our own now was planning.</p> +<p>As I moved about from day to day, making such acquaintance as I +could, I found in the air a feeling of excitement and expectation. +The hotels, bad as they were, were packed. The public places were +noisy, the private houses crowded. Gradually the town became +half-military and half-savage. Persons of importance arrived by +steamers up the river, on whose expanse lay boats which might be +bound for England—or for some of England's colonies. The +Government—not yet removed to Ottawa, later capital of +Ontario—was then housed in the old Château Ramezay, +built so long before for the French governor, Vaudreuil.</p> +<p>Here, I had reason to believe, was now established no less a +personage than Sir George Simpson, Governor of the Hudson Bay +Company. Rumor had it at the time that Lord Aberdeen of England +himself was at Montreal. That was not true, but I established +without doubt that his brother really was there, as well as +Lieutenant William Peel of the Navy, son of Sir Robert Peel, +England's prime minister. The latter, with his companion, Captain +Parke, was one time pointed out to me proudly by my +inn-keeper—two young gentlemen, clad in the ultra fashion of +their country, with very wide and tall bell beavers, narrow +trousers, and strange long sack-coats unknown to us in the +States—of little shape or elegance, it seemed to me.</p> +<p>There was expectancy in the air, that was sure. It was open +secret enough in England, as well as in Montreal and in Washington, +that a small army of American settlers had set out the foregoing +summer for the valley of the Columbia, some said under leadership +of the missionary Whitman. Britain was this year awakening to the +truth that these men had gone thither for a purpose. Here now was a +congress of Great Britain's statesmen, leaders of Great Britain's +greatest monopoly, the Hudson Bay Company, to weigh this act of the +audacious American Republic. I was not a week in Montreal before I +learned that my master's guess, or his information, had been +correct. The race was on for Oregon!</p> +<p>All these things, I say, I saw go on about me. Yet in truth as +to the inner workings of this I could gain but little actual +information. I saw England's ships, but it was not for me to know +whether they were to turn Cape Hope or the Horn. I saw Canada's +<i>voyageurs</i>, but they might be only on their annual journey, +and might go no farther than their accustomed posts in the West. In +French town and English town, among common soldiers, +<i>voyageurs</i>, inn-keepers and merchants, I wandered for more +than one day and felt myself still helpless.</p> +<p>That is to say, such was the case until there came to my aid +that greatest of all allies, Chance.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>THE OTHER WOMAN</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>The world is the book of women.—<i>Rousseau</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>I needed not to be advised that presently there would be a +meeting of some of the leading men of the Hudson Bay Company at the +little gray stone, dormer-windowed building on Notre Dame Street. +In this old building—in whose vaults at one time of emergency +was stored the entire currency of the Canadian treasury—there +still remained some government records, and now under the +steep-pitched roof affairs were to be transacted somewhat larger +than the dimensions of the building might have suggested. The +keeper of my inn freely made me a list of those who would be +present—a list embracing so many scores of prominent men whom +he then swore to be in the city of Montreal that, had the old +Château Ramezay afforded twice its room, they could not all +have been accommodated. For myself, it was out of the question to +gain admittance.</p> +<p>In those days all Montreal was iron-shuttered after nightfall, +resembling a series of jails; and to-night it seemed doubly +screened and guarded. None the less, late in the evening, I allowed +seeming accident to lead me in a certain direction. Passing as +often as I might up and down Notre Dame Street without attracting +attention, I saw more than one figure in the semi-darkness enter +the low château door. Occasionally a tiny gleam showed at the +edge of a shutter or at the top of some little window not fully +screened. As to what went on within I could only guess.</p> +<p>I passed the château, up and down, at different times from +nine o'clock until midnight. The streets of Montreal at that time +made brave pretense of lighting by virtue of the new gas works; at +certain intervals flickering and wholly incompetent lights serving +to make the gloom more visible. None the less, as I passed for the +last time, I plainly saw a shaft of light fall upon the half +darkness from a little side door. There emerged upon the street the +figure of a woman. I do not know what led me to cast a second +glance, for certainly my business was not with ladies, any more +than I would have supposed ladies had business there; but, victim +of some impulse of curiosity, I walked a step or two in the same +direction as that taken by the cloaked figure.</p> +<p>Careless as I endeavored to make my movements, the veiled lady +seemed to take suspicion or fright. She quickened her steps. +Accident favored me. Even as she fled, she caught her skirt on some +object which lay hidden in the shadows and fell almost at full +length. This I conceived to be opportunity warranting my approach. +I raised my hat and assured her that her flight was needless.</p> +<p>She made no direct reply to me, but as she rose gave utterance +to an expression of annoyance. "<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" I heard her +say.</p> +<p>I stood for a moment trying to recall where I had heard this +same voice! She turned her face in such a way that the light +illuminated it. Then indeed surprise smote me.</p> +<p>"Madam Baroness," said I, laughing, "it is wholly impossible for +you to be here, yet you are here! Never again will I say there is +no such thing as chance, no such thing as fate, no such thing as a +miracle!"</p> +<p>She looked at me one brief moment; then her courage +returned.</p> +<p>"Ah, then, my idiot," she said, "since it is to be our fortune +always to meet of dark nights and in impossible ways, give me your +arm."</p> +<p>I laughed. "We may as well make treaty. If you run again, I +shall only follow you."</p> +<p>"Then I am again your prisoner?"</p> +<p>"Madam, I again am yours!"</p> +<p>"At least, you improve!" said she. "Then come."</p> +<p>"Shall I not call a <i>calèche?</i>—the night is +dark."</p> +<p>"No, no!" hurriedly.</p> +<p>We began a midnight course that took us quite across the old +French quarter of Montreal. At last she turned into a small, dark +street of modest one-story residences, iron-shuttered, dark and +cheerless. Here she paused in front of a narrow iron gate.</p> +<p>"Madam," I said, "you represent to me one of the problems of my +life. Why does your taste run to such quarters as these? This might +be that same back street in Washington!"</p> +<p>She chuckled to herself, at length laughed aloud. "But wait! If +you entered my abode once," she said, "why not again? Come."</p> +<p>Her hand was at the heavy knocker as she spoke. In a moment the +door slowly opened, just as it had done that night before in +Washington. My companion passed before me swiftly. As she entered I +saw standing at the opening the same brown and wrinkled old dame +who had served that night before in Washington!</p> +<p>For an instant the light dazzled my eyes, but, determined now to +see this adventure through, I stepped within. Then, indeed, I found +it difficult to stifle the exclamation of surprise which came to my +lips. Believe it or not, as you like, we <i>were</i> again in +Washington!</p> +<p>I say that I was confronted by the identical arrangement, the +identical objects of furnishing, which had marked the luxurious +boudoir of Helena von Ritz in Washington! The tables were the same, +the chairs, the mirrors, the consoles. On the mantel stood the same +girandoles with glittering crystals. The pictures upon the walls, +so far as I could remember their themes, did not deviate in any +particular of detail or arrangement. The oval-backed chairs were +duplicates of those I had seen that other night at midnight. Beyond +these same amber satin curtains stood the tall bed with its canopy, +as I could see; and here at the right was the same low Napoleon bed +with its rolled ends. The figures of the carpets were the same, +their deep-piled richness, soft under foot, the same. The flowered +cups of the sconces were identical with those I had seen before. To +my eye, even as it grew more studious, there appeared no +divergence, no difference, between these apartments and those I had +so singularly visited—and yet under circumstances so +strangely akin to these—in the capital of my own country!</p> +<p>"You are good enough to admire my modest place," said a laughing +voice at my shoulder. Then indeed I waked and looked about me, and +saw that this, stranger than any mirage of the brain, was but a +fact and must later be explained by the laborious processes of the +feeble reason.</p> +<p>I turned to her then, pulling myself together as best I could. +Yes, she too was the same, although in this case costumed somewhat +differently. The wide ball gown of satin was gone, and in its place +was a less pretentious robing of some darker silk. I remembered +distinctly that the flowers upon the white satin gown I first had +seen were pink roses. Here were flowers of the crocus, cunningly +woven into the web of the gown itself. The slippers which I now saw +peeping out as she passed were not of white satin, but better foot +covering for the street. She cast over the back of a chair, as she +had done that other evening, her light shoulder covering, a dark +mantle, not of lace now, but of some thin cloth. Her jewels were +gone, and the splendor of her dark hair was free of decoration. No +pale blue fires shone at her white throat, and her hands were +ringless. But the light, firm poise of her figure could not be +changed; the mockery of her glance remained the same, half laughing +and half wistful. The strong curve of her lips remained, and I +recalled this arch of brow, the curve of neck and chin, the droop +of the dark locks above her even forehead. Yes, it was she. It +could be no one else.</p> +<p>She clapped her hands and laughed like a child as she turned to +me. "Bravo!" she said. "My judgment, then, was quite correct."</p> +<p>"In regard to what?"</p> +<p>"Yourself!"</p> +<p>"Pardon me?"</p> +<p>"You do not show curiosity! You do not ask me questions! Good! I +think I shall ask you to wait. I say to you frankly that I am alone +here. It pleases me to live—as pleases me! You are alone in +Montreal. Why should we not please ourselves?"</p> +<p>In some way which I did not pause to analyze, I felt perfectly +sure that this strange woman could, if she cared to do so, tell me +some of the things I ought to know. She might be here on some +errand identical with my own. Calhoun had sent for her once before. +Whose agent was she now? I found chairs for us both.</p> +<p>An instant later, summoned in what way I do not know, the old +serving-woman again reappeared. "Wine, Threlka," said the baroness; +"service for two—you may use this little table. Monsieur," +she added, turning to me, "I am most happy to make even some slight +return for the very gracious entertainment offered me that morning +by Mr. Calhoun at his residence. Such a droll man! Oh, la! la!"</p> +<p>"Are you his friend, Madam?" I asked bluntly.</p> +<p>"Why should I not be?"</p> +<p>I could frame neither offensive nor defensive art with her. She +mocked me.</p> +<p>In a few moments the weazened old woman was back with cold fowl, +wine, napery, silver.</p> +<p>"Will Monsieur carve?" At her nod the old woman filled my glass, +after my hostess had tasted of her own. We had seated ourselves at +the table as she spoke.</p> +<p>"Not so bad for a black midnight, eh?" she went on, "—in a +strange town—and on a strange errand? And again let me +express my approbation of your conduct."</p> +<p>"If it pleases you, 'tis more than I can say of it for myself," +I began. "But why?"</p> +<p>"Because you ask no questions. You take things as they come. I +did not expect you would come to Montreal."</p> +<p>"Then you know—but of course, I told you."</p> +<p>"Have you then no question?" she went on at last. Her glass +stood half full; her wrists rested gently on the table edge, as she +leaned back, looking at me with that on her face which he had +needed to be wiser than myself, who could have read.</p> +<p>"May I, then?"</p> +<p>"Yes, now you may go on."</p> +<p>"I thank you. First, of course, for what reason do you carry the +secrets of my government into the stronghold of another government? +Are you the friend of America, or are you a spy upon America? Are +you my friend, or are we to be enemies to-night?"</p> +<p>She flung back her head and laughed delightedly. "That is a good +beginning," she commented.</p> +<p>"You must, at a guess, have come up by way of the lakes, and by +batteau from La Prairie?" I ventured.</p> +<p>She nodded again. "Of course. I have been here six days."</p> +<p>"Indeed?—you have badly beaten me in our little race."</p> +<p>She flashed on me a sudden glance. "Why do you not ask me +outright <i>why</i> I am here?"</p> +<p>"Well, then, I do! I do ask you that. I ask you how you got +access to that meeting to-night—for I doubt not you were +there?"</p> +<p>She gazed at me deliberately again, parting her red lips, again +smiling at me. "What would you have given to have been there +yourself?"</p> +<p>"All the treasures those vaults ever held."</p> +<p>"So much? What will you give me, then, to tell you what I +know?"</p> +<p>"More than all that treasure, Madam. A place—"</p> +<p>"Ah! a 'place in the heart of a people!' I prefer a locality +more restricted."</p> +<p>"In my own heart, then; yes, of course!"</p> +<p>She helped herself daintily to a portion of the white meat of +the fowl. "Yes," she went on, as though speaking to herself, "on +the whole, I rather like him. Yet what a fool! Ah, such a droll +idiot!"</p> +<p>"How so, Madam?" I expostulated. "I thought I was doing very +well."</p> +<p>"Yet you can not guess how to persuade me?"</p> +<p>"No; how could that be?"</p> +<p>"Always one gains by offering some equivalent, value for +value—especially with women, Monsieur."</p> +<p>She went on as though to herself. "Come, now, I fancy him! He is +handsome, he is discreet, he has courage, he is not usual, he is +not curious; but ah, <i>mon Dieu</i>, what a fool!"</p> +<p>"Admit me to be a fool, Madam, since it is true; but tell me in +my folly what equivalent I can offer one who has everything in the +world—wealth, taste, culture, education, wit, learning, +beauty?"</p> +<p>"Go on! Excellent!"</p> +<p>"Who has everything as against my nothing! <i>What</i> value, +Madam?"</p> +<p>"Why, gentle idiot, to get an answer ask a question, +always."</p> +<p>"I have asked it."</p> +<p>"But you can not guess that <i>I</i> might ask one? So, then, +one answer for another, we might do—what you Americans call +some business—eh? Will you answer <i>my</i> question?"</p> +<p>"Ask it, then."</p> +<p>"<i>Were you married</i>—that other night?"</p> +<p>So, then, she was woman after all, and curious! Her sudden +speech came like a stab; but fortunately my dull nerves had not had +time to change my face before a thought flashed into my mind. Could +I not make merchandise of my sorrow? I pulled myself into control +and looked her fair in the face.</p> +<p>"Madam," I said, "look at my face and read your own answer."</p> +<p>She looked, searching me, while every nerve of me tingled; but +at last she shook her head. "No," she sighed. "I can not yet say." +She did not see the sweat starting on my forehead.</p> +<p>I raised my kerchief over my head. "A truce, then, Madam! Let us +leave the one question against the other for a time."</p> +<p>"Excellent! I shall get my answer first, in that case, and for +nothing."</p> +<p>"How so?"</p> +<p>"I shall only watch you. As we are here now, I were a fool, +worse than you, if I could not tell whether or not you are married. +None the less, I commend you, I admire you, because you do not tell +me. If you are <i>not</i>, you are disappointed. If you <i>are</i>, +you are eager!"</p> +<p>"I am in any case delighted that I can interest Madam."</p> +<p>"Ah, but you do! I have not been interested, for so long! Ah, +the great heavens, how fat was Mr. Pakenham, how thin was Mr. +Calhoun! But you—come, Monsieur, the night is long. Tell me +of yourself. I have never before known a savage."</p> +<p>"Value for value only, Madam! Will you tell me in turn of +yourself?"</p> +<p>"All?" She looked at me curiously.</p> +<p>"Only so much as Madam wishes."</p> +<p>I saw her dark eyes study me once more. At last she spoke again. +"At least," she said, "it would be rather vulgar if I did not +explain some of the things which become your right to know when I +ask you to come into this home, as into my other home in +Washington."</p> +<p>"In Heaven's name, how many of these homes have you, then? Are +they all alike?"</p> +<p>"Five only, now," she replied, in the most matter-of-fact manner +in the world, "and, of course, all quite alike."</p> +<p>"Where else?"</p> +<p>"In Paris, in Vienna, in London," she answered. "You see this +one, you see them all. 'Tis far cooler in Montreal than in +Washington in the summer time. Do you not approve?"</p> +<p>"The arrangement could not be surpassed."</p> +<p>"Thank you. So I have thought. The mere charm of difference does +not appeal to me. Certain things my judgment approves. They serve, +they suffice. This little scheme it has pleased me to reproduce in +some of the capitals of the world. It is at least as well chosen as +the taste of the Prince of Orleans, son of Louis Philippe, could +advise."</p> +<p>This with no change of expression. I drew a long breath.</p> +<p>She went on as though I had spoken. "My friend," she said, "do +not despise me too early. There is abundant time. Before you judge, +let the testimony be heard. I love men who can keep their own +tongues and their own hands to themselves."</p> +<p>"I am not your judge, Madam, but it will be long before I shall +think a harsh thought of you. Tell me what a woman may. Do not tell +me what a secret agent may <i>not</i>. I ask no promises and make +none. You are very beautiful. You have wealth. I call you `Madam.' +You are married?"</p> +<p>"I was married at fifteen."</p> +<p>"At fifteen! And your husband died?"</p> +<p>"He disappeared."</p> +<p>"Your own country was Austria?"</p> +<p>"Call me anything but Austrian! I left my country because I saw +there only oppression and lack of hope. No, I am Hungarian."</p> +<p>"That I could have guessed. They say the most beautiful women of +the world come from that country."</p> +<p>"Thank you. Is that all?"</p> +<p>"I should guess then perhaps you went to Paris?"</p> +<p>"Of course," she said, "of course! of course! In time reasons +existed why I should not return to my home. I had some little +fortune, some singular experiences, some ambitions of my own. What +I did, I did. At least, I saw the best and worst of Europe."</p> +<p>She raised a hand as though to brush something from before her +face. "Allow me to give you wine. Well, then, Monsieur knows that +when I left Paris I felt that part of my studies were complete. I +had seen a little more of government, a little more of humanity, a +little more of life, a little more of men. It was not men but +mankind that I studied most. I had seen much of injustice and +hopelessness and despair. These made the fate of mankind—in +that world."</p> +<p>"I have heard vaguely of some such things, Madam," I said. "I +know that in Europe they have still the fight which we sought to +settle when we left that country for this one."</p> +<p>She nodded. "So then, at last," she went on, "still young, +having learned something and having now those means of carrying on +my studies which I required, I came to this last of the countries, +America, where, if anywhere, hope for mankind remains. Washington +has impressed me more than any capital of the world."</p> +<p>"How long have you been in Washington?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Now you begin to question—now you show at last curiosity! +Well, then, I shall answer. For more than one year, perhaps more +than two, perhaps more than three!"</p> +<p>"Impossible!" I shook my head. "A woman like you could not be +concealed—not if she owned a hundred hidden places such as +this."</p> +<p>"Oh, I was known," she said. "You have heard of me, you knew of +me?"</p> +<p>I still shook my head. "No," said I, "I have been far in the +West for several years, and have come to Washington but rarely. +Bear me out, I had not been there my third day before I found +you!"</p> +<p>We sat silent for some moments, fixedly regarding each other. I +have said that a more beautiful face than hers I had never seen. +There sat upon it now many things—youth, eagerness, ambition, +a certain defiance; but, above all, a pleading pathos! I could not +find it in my heart, eager as I was, to question her further. +Apparently she valued this reticence.</p> +<p>"You condemn me?" she asked at length. "Because I live alone, +because quiet rumor wags a tongue, you will judge me by your own +creed and not by mine?"</p> +<p>I hesitated before I answered, and deliberated. "Madam, I have +already told you that I would not. I say once more that I accredit +you with living up to your own creed, whatever that may have +been."</p> +<p>She drew a long breath in turn. "Monsieur, you have done +yourself no ill turn in that."</p> +<p>"It was rumored in diplomatic circles, of course, that you were +in touch with the ministry of England," I ventured. "I myself saw +that much."</p> +<p>"Naturally. Of Mexico also! At least, as you saw in our little +carriage race, Mexico was desirous enough to establish some sort of +communication with my humble self!"</p> +<p>"Calhoun was right!" I exclaimed. "He was entirely right, Madam, +in insisting that I should bring you to him that morning, whether +or not you wished to go."</p> +<p>"Whim fits with whim sometimes. `Twas his whim to see me, mine +to go."</p> +<p>"I wonder what the Queen of Sheba would have said had Solomon +met her thus!"</p> +<p>She chuckled at the memory. "You see, when you left me at Mr. +Calhoun's door in care of the Grand Vizier James, I wondered +somewhat at this strange country of America. The <i>entresol</i> +was dim and the Grand Vizier was slow with candles. I half fell +into the room on the right. There was Mr. Calhoun bolt upright in +his chair, both hands spread out on the arms. As you promised, he +wore a red nightcap and long gown of wool. He was asleep, and ah! +how weary he seemed. Never have I seen a face so sad as his, +asleep. He was gray and thin, his hair was gray and thin, his eyes +were sunken, the veins were corded at his temples, his hands were +transparent. He was, as you promised me, old. Yet when I saw him I +did not smile. He heard me stir as I would have withdrawn, and when +he arose to his feet he was wide-awake. Monsieur, he is a great +man; because, even so clad he made no more apology than you do, +showed no more curiosity; and he welcomed me quite as a gentleman +unashamed—as a king, if you please."</p> +<p>"How did he receive you, Madam?" I asked. "I never knew."</p> +<p>"Why, took my hand in both his, and bowed as though I indeed +were queen, he a king."</p> +<p>"Then you got on well?"</p> +<p>"Truly; for he was wiser than his agent, Monsieur. He found +answers by asking questions."</p> +<p>"Ah, you were kinder to him than to me?"</p> +<p>"Naturally."</p> +<p>"For instance, he asked—"</p> +<p>"What had been my ball gown that night—who was +there—how I enjoyed myself! In a moment we were talking as +though we had been friends for years. The Grand Vizier brought in +two mugs of cider, in each a toasted apple. Monsieur, I have not +seen diplomacy such as this. Naturally, I was helpless."</p> +<p>"Did he perhaps ask how you were induced to come at so +impossible a time? My own vanity, naturally, leads me to ask so +much as that."</p> +<p>"No, Mr. Calhoun confined himself to the essentials! Even had he +asked me I could not have replied, because I do not know, save that +it was to me a whim. But at least we talked, over our cider and +toasted apples."</p> +<p>"You told him somewhat of yourself?"</p> +<p>"He did not allow me to do that, Monsieur."</p> +<p>"But he told you somewhat of this country?"</p> +<p>"Ah, yes, yes! So then I saw what held him up in his work, what +kept him alive. I saw something I have not often seen—a +purpose, a principle, in a public man. His love for his own land +touched even me, how or why I scarcely know. Yes, we spoke of the +poor, the oppressed, of the weary and the heavy laden."</p> +<p>"Did he ask you what you knew of Mexico and England?"</p> +<p>"Rather what I knew of the poor in Europe. I told him some +things I knew of that hopeless land, that priest-ridden, +king-ridden country—my own land. Then he went on to tell me +of America and its hope of a free democracy of the people. Believe +me, I listened to Mr. Calhoun. Never mind what we said of Mr. Van +Zandt and Sir Richard Pakenham. At least, as you know, I paid off a +little score with Sir Richard that next morning. What was strangest +to me was the fact that I forgot Mr. Calhoun's attire, forgot the +strangeness of my errand thither. It was as though only our minds +talked, one with the other. I was sorry when at last came the Grand +Vizier James to take Mr. Calhoun's order for his own carriage, that +brought me home—my second and more peaceful arrival there +that night. The last I saw of Mr. Calhoun was with the Grand Vizier +James putting a cloak about him and leading him by force from his +study to his bed, as I presume. As for me, I slept no more that +night. Monsieur, I admit that I saw the purpose of a great man. +Yes; and of a great country."</p> +<p>"Then I did not fail as messenger, after all! You told Mr. +Calhoun what he desired to know?"</p> +<p>"In part at least. But come now, was I not bound in some sort of +honor to my great and good friend, Sir Richard? Was it not +treachery enough to rebuke him for his attentions to the +Doña Lucrezia?"</p> +<p>"But you promised to tell Mr. Calhoun more at a later time?"</p> +<p>"On certain conditions I did," she assented.</p> +<p>"I do not know that I may ask those?"</p> +<p>"You would be surprised if I told you the truth? What I required +of Mr. Calhoun was permission and aid still further to study his +extraordinary country, its extraordinary ways, its extraordinary +ignorance of itself. I have told you that I needed to travel, to +study, to observe mankind—and those governments invented or +tolerated by mankind."</p> +<p>"Since then, Madam," I concluded, stepping to assist her with +her chair, as she signified her completion of our repast, "since +you do not feel now inclined to be specific, I feel that I ought to +make my adieux, for the time at least. It grows late. I shall +remember this little evening all my life. I own my defeat. I do not +know why you are here, or for whom."</p> +<p>"At what hotel do you stop?"</p> +<p>"The little place of Jacques Bertillon, a square or so beyond +the Place d'Armes."</p> +<p>"In that case," said she, "believe me, it would be more discreet +for you to remain unseen in Montreal. No matter which flag is mine, +I may say that much for a friend and comrade in the service."</p> +<p>"But what else?"</p> +<p>She looked about her. "Be my guest to-night!" she said suddenly. +"There is danger—"</p> +<p>"For me?" I laughed. "At my hotel? On the streets?"</p> +<p>"No, for me."</p> +<p>"Where?"</p> +<p>"Here."</p> +<p>"And of what, Madam?"</p> +<p>"Of a man; for the first time I am afraid, in spite of all."</p> +<p>I looked at her straight. "Are you not afraid of <i>me?</i>" I +asked.</p> +<p>She looked at me fairly, her color coming. "With the fear which +draws a woman to a man," she said.</p> +<p>"Whereas, mine is the fear which causes a man to flee from +himself!"</p> +<p>"But you will remain for my protection? I should feel safer. +Besides, in that case I should know the answer."</p> +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> +<p>"I should know whether or not you were married!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>WITH MADAM THE BARONESS</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>It is not for good women that men have fought battles, given +their lives and staked their souls.—<i>Mrs. W.K. +Clifford</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>"But, Madam—" I began.</p> +<p>She answered me in her own way. "Monsieur hesitates—he is +lost!" she said. "But see, I am weary. I have been much engaged +to-day. I have made it my plan never to fatigue myself. It is my +hour now for my bath, my exercise, my bed, if you please. I fear I +must bid you good night, one way or the other. You will be welcome +here none the less, if you care to remain. I trust you did not find +our little repast to-night unpleasing? Believe me, our breakfast +shall be as good. Threlka is expert in omelets, and our coffee is +such as perhaps you may not find general in these provinces."</p> +<p>Was there the slightest mocking sneer in her words? Did she +despise me as a faint-heart? I could not tell, but did not like the +thought.</p> +<p>"Believe me, Madam," I answered hotly, "you have courage, at +least. Let me match it. Nor do I deny that this asks courage on my +part too. If you please, in these circumstances, <i>I shall +remain</i>."</p> +<p>"You are armed?" she asked simply.</p> +<p>I inserted a finger in each waistcoat pocket and showed her the +butts of two derringers; and at the back of my neck—to her +smiling amusement at our heathen fashion—I displayed just the +tip of the haft of a short bowie-knife, which went into a leather +case under the collar of my coat. And again I drew around the belt +which I wore so that she could see the barrel of a good pistol, +which had been suspended under cover of the bell skirt of my +coat.</p> +<p>She laughed. I saw that she was not unused to weapons. I should +have guessed her the daughter of a soldier or acquainted with arms +in some way. "Of course," she said, "there might be need of these, +although I think not. And in any case, if trouble can be deferred +until to-morrow, why concern oneself over it? You interest me. I +begin yet more to approve of you."</p> +<p>"Then, as to that breakfast <i>à la fourchette</i> with +Madam; if I remain, will you agree to tell me what is your business +here?"</p> +<p>She laughed at me gaily. "I might," she said, "provided that +meantime I had learned whether or not you were married that +night."</p> +<p>I do not profess that I read all that was in her face as she +stepped back toward the satin curtains and swept me the most +graceful curtsey I had ever seen in all my life. I felt like +reaching out a hand to restrain her. I felt like following her. She +was assuredly bewildering, assuredly as puzzling as she was +fascinating. I only felt that she was mocking me. Ah, she was a +woman!</p> +<p>I felt something swiftly flame within me. There arose about me +that net of amber-hued perfume, soft, enthralling, difficult of +evasion.... Then I recalled my mission; and I remembered what Mr. +Calhoun and Doctor Ward had said. I was not a man; I was a +government agent. She was not a woman; she was my opponent. Yes, +but then—</p> +<p>Slowly I turned to the opposite side of this long central room. +There were curtains here also. I drew them, but as I did so I +glanced back. Again, as on that earlier night, I saw her face +framed in the amber folds—a face laughing, mocking. With an +exclamation of discontent, I threw down my heavy pistol on the +floor, cast my coat across the foot of the bed to prevent the +delicate covering from being soiled by my boots, and so rested +without further disrobing.</p> +<p>In the opposite apartment I could hear her moving about, humming +to herself some air as unconcernedly as though no such being as +myself existed in the world. I heard her presently accost her +servant, who entered through some passage not visible from the +central apartments. Then without concealment there seemed to go +forward the ordinary routine of madam's toilet for the evening.</p> +<p>"No, I think the pink one," I heard her say, "and +please—the bath, Threlka, just a trifle more warm." She spoke +in French, her ancient serving-woman, as I took it, not +understanding the English language. They both spoke also in a +tongue I did not know. I heard the rattling of toilet articles, +certain sighs of content, faint splashings beyond. I could not +escape from all this. Then I imagined that perhaps madam was having +her heavy locks combed by the serving-woman. In spite of myself, I +pictured her thus, even more beautiful than before.</p> +<p>For a long time I concluded that my presence was to be dismissed +as a thing which was of no importance, or which was to be regarded +as not having happened. At length, however, after what seemed at +least half an hour of these mysterious ceremonies, I heard certain +sighings, long breaths, as though madam were taking calisthenic +movements, some gymnastic training—I knew not what. She +paused for breath, apparently very well content with herself.</p> +<p>Shame on me! I fancied perhaps she stood before a mirror. Shame +on me again! I fancied she sat, glowing, beautiful, at the edge of +the amber couch.</p> +<p>At last she called out to me: "Monsieur!"</p> +<p>I was at my own curtains at once, but hers remained tight +folded, although I heard her voice close behind them. "<i>Eh +bien?</i>" I answered.</p> +<p>"It is nothing, except I would say that if Monsieur feels +especially grave and reverent, he will find a very comfortable +<i>prie-dieu</i> at the foot of the bed."</p> +<p>"I thank you," I replied, gravely as I could.</p> +<p>"And there is a very excellent rosary and crucifix on the table +just beyond!"</p> +<p>"I thank you," I replied, steadily as I could.</p> +<p>"And there is an English Book of Common Prayer upon the stand +not far from the head of the bed, upon this side!"</p> +<p>"A thousand thanks, my very good friend."</p> +<p>I heard a smothered laugh beyond the amber curtains. Presently +she spoke again, yawning, as I fancied, rather contentedly.</p> +<p>"<i>A la bonne heure, Monsieur!</i>"</p> +<p>"<i>A la bonne heure, Madame!</i>"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>DÉJEÛNER À LA FOURCHETTE</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Woman is a creature between man and the angels.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">—<i>Honoré de +Balzac</i>.</span></p> +</div> +<p>A government agent, it seems, may also in part be little more +than a man, after all. In these singular surroundings I found +myself not wholly tranquil.... At last toward morning, I must have +slept. It was some time after daybreak when I felt a hand upon my +shoulder as I lay still partly clad. Awakened suddenly, I arose and +almost overthrew old Threlka, who stood regarding me with no +expression whatever upon her brown and wrinkled countenance. She +did no more than point the way to a door, where presently I found a +bath-room, and so refreshed myself and made the best toilet +possible under the circumstances.</p> +<p>My hostess I found awaiting me in the central room of the +apartments. She was clad now in a girdled peignoir of rich +rose-color, the sleeves, wide and full, falling hack from her round +arms. Her dark hair was coiled and piled high on her head this +morning, regardless of current mode, and confined in a heavy twist +by a tall golden comb; so that her white neck was left uncovered. +She wore no jewelry, and as she stood, simple and free from any +trickery of the coquette, I thought that few women ever were more +fair. That infinite witchery not given to many women was hers, yet +dignity as well. She was, I swear, <i>grande dame</i>, though young +and beautiful as a goddess. Her brow was thoughtful now, her air +more demure. Faint blue shadows lay beneath her eyes. A certain +hauteur, it seemed to me, was visible in her mien, yet she was the +soul of graciousness, and, I must admit, as charming a hostess as +ever invited one to usual or unusual repast.</p> +<p>The little table in the center of the room was already spread. +Madam filled my cup from the steaming urn with not the slightest +awkwardness, as she nodded for me to be seated. We looked at each +other, and, as I may swear, we both broke into saving laughter.</p> +<p>So we sat, easier now, as I admit, and, with small concern for +the affairs of the world outside at the time, discussed the very +excellent omelet, which certainly did not allow the reputation of +Threlka to suffer; the delicately grilled bones, the crisp toasted +rye bread, the firm yellow butter, the pungent early cress, which +made up a meal sufficiently dainty even for her who presided over +it.</p> +<p>Even that pitiless light of early morning, the merciless +cross-light of opposing windows, was gentle with her. Yes, she was +young! Moreover, she ate as a person of breeding, and seemed +thoroughbred in all ways, if one might use a term so hackneyed. +Rank and breeding had been hers; she needed not to claim them, for +they told their own story. I wondered what extraordinary history of +hers remained untold—what history of hers and mine and of +others she might yet assist in making!</p> +<p>"I was saying," she remarked presently, "that I would not have +you think that I do not appreciate the suffering in which you were +plunged by the haste you found necessary in the wedding of your +<i>jeune fille</i>."</p> +<p>But I was on my guard. "At least, I may thank you for your +sympathy, Madam!" I replied.</p> +<p>"Yet in time," she went on, gone reflective the next instant, +"you will see how very unimportant is all this turmoil of love and +marriage."</p> +<p>"Indeed, there is, as you say, something of a turmoil regarding +them in our institutions as they are at present formed."</p> +<p>"Because the average of humanity thinks so little. Most of us +judge life from its emotions. We do not search the depths."</p> +<p>"If I could oblige Madam by abolishing society and home and +humanity, I should be very glad—because, of course, that is +what Madam means!"</p> +<p>"At any cost," she mused, "that torture of life must be passed +on to coming generations for their unhappiness, their grief, their +misery. I presume it was necessary that there should be this plan +of the general blindness and intensity of passion."</p> +<p>"Yes, if, indeed, it be not the most important thing in the +world for us to marry, at least it is important that we should +think so. Madam is philosopher this morning," I said, smiling.</p> +<p>She hardly heard me. "To continue the crucifixion of the soul, +to continue the misapprehensions, the debasings of contact with +human life—yes, I suppose one must pay all that for the sake +of the gaining of a purpose. Yet there are those who would endure +much for the sake of principle, Monsieur. Some such souls are born, +do you not think?"</p> +<p>"Yes, Sphinx souls, extraordinary, impossible for the average of +us to understand."</p> +<p>"That torch of <i>life</i>!" she mused. "See! It was only +<i>that</i> which you were so eager to pass on to another +generation! That was why you were so mad to hasten to the side of +that woman. Whereas," she mused still, "it were so much grander and +so much nobler to pass on the torch of a <i>principle</i> as +well!"</p> +<p>"I do not understand."</p> +<p>"The general business of offspring goes on unceasingly in all +the nations," she resumed frankly. "There will be children, whether +or not you and I ever find some one wherewith to mate in the +compromise which folk call wedlock. But <i>principles</i>—ah! +my friend, who is to give those to others who follow us? What rare +and splendid wedlock brings forth <i>that</i> manner of +offspring?"</p> +<p>"Madam, in the circumstances," said I, "I should be happy to +serve you more omelet."</p> +<p>She shook her head as though endeavoring to dismiss something +from her mind.</p> +<p>"Do not philosophize with me," I said. "I am already distracted +by the puzzle you offer to me. You are so young and beautiful, so +fair in your judgment, so kind—"</p> +<p>"In turn, I ask you not to follow that," she remarked coldly. +"Let us talk of what you call, I think, business."</p> +<p>"Nothing could please me more. I have slept little, pondering on +this that I do call business. To begin with, then, you were there +at the Château Ramezay last night. I would have given all I +had to have been there for an hour."</p> +<p>"There are certain advantages a woman may have."</p> +<p>"But you were there? You know what went forward?"</p> +<p>"Certainly."</p> +<p>"Did they know you were present?"</p> +<p>"Monsieur is somewhat importunate!"</p> +<p>She looked me now directly in the eye, studying me mercilessly, +with a scrutiny whose like I should not care often to undergo.</p> +<p>"I should be glad if it were possible to answer you," she said +at last enigmatically; "but I have faith to keep +with—others—with you—with—myself."</p> +<p>Now my own eagerness ran away with me; I became almost rude. +"Madam," I exclaimed, "why beat about the bush? I do not care to +deceive you, and you must not deceive me. Why should we not be +friends in every way, and fair ones?"</p> +<p>"You do not know what you are saying," she said simply.</p> +<p>"Are you then an enemy of my country?" I demanded. "If I thought +you were here to prove traitress to my country, you should never +leave this room except with me. You shall not leave it now until +you have told me what you are, why you are here, what you plan to +do!"</p> +<p>She showed no fear. She only made a pretty little gesture at the +dishes between us. "At my own table!" she pouted.</p> +<p>Again our eyes met directly and again hers did not lower. She +looked at me calmly. I was no match for her.</p> +<p>"My dear lady," I began again, "my relation to the affairs of +the American Republic is a very humble one. I am no minister of +state, and I know you deal with ministers direct. How, then, shall +I gain your friendship for my country? You are dangerous to have +for an enemy. Are you too high-priced to have for a +friend—for a friend to our Union—a friend of the +principle of democracy? Come now, you enjoy large questions. Tell +me, what does this council mean regarding Oregon? Is it true that +England plans now to concentrate all her traders, all her troops, +and force them west up the Saskatchewan and into Oregon this coming +season? Come, now, Madam, is it to be war?"</p> +<p>Her curved lips broke into a smile that showed again her small +white teeth.</p> +<p>"Were you, then, married?" she said.</p> +<p>I only went on, impatient. "Any moment may mean everything to +us. I should not ask these questions if I did not know that you +were close to Mr. Calhoun."</p> +<p>She looked me square in the eye and nodded her head slowly. "I +may say this much, Monsieur, that it has pleased me to gain a +little further information."</p> +<p>"You will give my government that information?"</p> +<p>"Why should I?"</p> +<p>"Yet you spoke of others who might come here. What others? Who +are they? The representatives of Mexico? Some attaché of the +British Embassy at Washington? Some minister from England itself, +sent here direct?"</p> +<p>She smiled at me again. "I told you not to go back to your +hotel, did I not?"</p> +<p>I got no further with her, it seemed.</p> +<p>"You interest me sometimes," she went on slowly, at last, "yet +you seem to have so little brain! Now, in your employment, I should +think that brain would be somewhat useful at times."</p> +<p>"I do not deny that suggestion, Madam."</p> +<p>"But you are unable to analyze. Thus, in the matter of yourself. +I suppose if you were told of it, you would only say that you +forgot to look in the toe of the slipper you had."</p> +<p>"Thus far, Baroness," I said soberly, "I have asked no special +privilege, at least. Now, if it affords you any pleasure, I +<i>beg</i> you, I <i>implore</i> you, to tell me what you +mean!"</p> +<p>"Did you credit the attaché of Mexico with being nothing +more than a drunken rowdy, to follow me across town with a little +shoe in his carriage?"</p> +<p>"But you said he was in wine."</p> +<p>"True. But would that be a reason? Continually you show your +lack of brain in accepting as conclusive results which could not +possibly have occurred. <i>Granted</i> he was in wine, +<i>granted</i> he followed me, <i>granted</i> he had my shoe in his +possession—what then? Does it follow that at the ball at the +White House he could have removed that shoe? Does Monsieur think +that I, too, was in wine?"</p> +<p>"I agree that I have no brain! I can not guess what you mean. I +can only beg once more that you explain."</p> +<p>"Now listen. In your most youthful and charming innocence I +presume you do not know much of the capabilities for concealment +offered by a lady's apparel! Now, suppose I had a +message—where do you think I could hide it; granted, of +course, the conditions obtaining at a ball in the White House?"</p> +<p>"Then you did have a message? It came to you there, at that +time?"</p> +<p>She nodded. "Certainly. Mr. Van Zandt had almost no other +opportunity to meet me or get word to me."</p> +<p>"<i>Van Zandt!</i> Madam, are you indeed in the camp of +<i>all</i> these different interests? So, what Pakenham said was +true! Van Zandt is the attaché of Texas. Van Zandt is +pleading with Mr. Calhoun that he shall take up the secretaryship. +Van Zandt promises us the friendship of Texas if we will stand out +for the annexation of Texas. Van Zandt promises us every effort in +his power against England. Van Zandt promises us the sternest of +fronts against treacherous Mexico. Van Zandt is known to be +interested in this fair Doña Lucrezia, just as Polk is. Now, +then, comes Van Zandt with his secret message slipped into the hand +of Madam at the Ambassador's ball—Madam, <i>the friend of +England!</i> The attaché of Mexico is +curious—furious—to know what Texas is saying to +England! And that message must be concealed! And Madam conceals it +in—"</p> +<p>She smiled at me brilliantly. "You come on," she said. "Should +your head be opened and analyzed, yes, I think a trace of brain +might be discovered by good chemistry."</p> +<p>I resumed impatiently. "You put his message in your +slipper?"</p> +<p>She nodded. "Yes," she said, "in the toe of it. There was barely +chance to do that. You see, our skirts are full and wide; there are +curtains in the East Room; there was wine by this time; there was +music; so I effected that much. But when you took the slipper, you +took Van Zandt's note! You had it. It was true, what I told +Pakenham before the president—I did <i>not</i> then have that +note! <i>You</i> had it. At least, I <i>thought</i> you had it, +till I found it crumpled on the table the next day! It must have +fallen there from the shoe when we made our little exchange that +night. Ah, you hurried me. I scarce knew whether I was clad or +shod, until the next afternoon—after I left you at the White +House grounds. So you hastily departed—to your wedding?"</p> +<p>"So small a shoe could not have held an extended epistle, +Madam," I said, ignoring her question.</p> +<p>"No, but the little roll of paper caused me anguish. After I had +danced I was on the point of fainting. I hastened to the cover of +the nearest curtain, where I might not be noticed. Señor +Yturrio of Mexico was somewhat vigilant. He wished to know what +Texas planned with England. He has long made love to me—by +threats, and jewels. As I stood behind the curtain I saw his face, +I fled; but one shoe—the empty one—was not well +fastened, and it fell. I could not walk. I reached down, removed +the other shoe with its note, hid it in my handkerchief—thank +Providence for the fashion of so much lace—and so, not in +wine, Monsieur, as you may believe, and somewhat anxious, as you +may also believe, expecting to hear at once of an encounter between +Van Zandt and the Mexican minister, Señor Almonte, or his +attaché Yturrio, or between one of them and some one else, I +made my adieux—I will warrant the only woman in her stocking +feet who bowed for Mr. Tyler at the ball that night!"</p> +<p>"Yes, so far as I know, Madam, you are the only lady who ever +left the East Room precisely so clad. And so you got into your own +carriage—alone—after a while? And so, when you were +there you put on the shoe which was left? And so Yturrio of Mexico +got the other one—and found nothing in it! And so, he wanted +this one!"</p> +<p>"You come on," she said. "You have something more than a trace +of brain."</p> +<p>"And that other shoe, which <i>I</i> got that night?"</p> +<p>Without a word she smoothed out a bit of paper which she removed +from a near-by desk, and handed it to me. "<i>This</i> was in +yours! As I said, in my confusion I supposed you had it. You said I +should go in a sack. I suppose I did! I suppose I lost my head, +somewhere! But certainly I thought you had found the note and given +it to Mr. Calhoun; else I should have driven harder terms with him! +I would drive harder terms with you, now, were I not in such haste +to learn the answer to my question! Tell me, <i>were</i> you +married?"</p> +<p>"Is that answer worth more than Van Zandt?" I smiled.</p> +<p>"Yes," she answered, also smiling.</p> +<p>I spread the page upon the cloth before me; my eyes raced down +the lines. I did not make further reply to her.</p> +<p>"Madam," went on the communication, "say to your august friend +Sir Richard that we have reached the end of our endurance of these +late delays. The promises of the United States mean nothing. We can +trust neither Whig nor Democrat any longer. There is no one party +in power, nor will there be. There are two sections in America and +there is no nation, and Texas knows not where to go. We have +offered to Mr. Tyler to join the Union if the Union will allow us +to join. We intend to reserve our own lands and reserve the right +to organize later into four or more states, if our people shall so +desire. But as a great state we will join the Union if the Union +will accept us. That must be seen.</p> +<p>"England now beseeches us not to enter the Union, but to stand +apart, either for independence or for alliance with Mexico and +England. The proposition has been made to us to divide into two +governments, one free and one slave. England has proposed to us to +advance us moneys to pay all our debts if we will agree to this. +Settled by bold men from our mother country, the republic, Texas +has been averse to this. But now our own mother repudiates us, not +once but many times. We get no decision. This then, dear Madam, is +from Texas to England by your hand, and we know you will carry it +safe and secret. We shall accept this proposal of England, and +avail ourselves of the richness of her generosity.</p> +<p>"If within thirty days action is not taken in Washington for the +annexation of Texas, Texas will never in the history of the world +be one of the United States. Moreover, if the United States shall +lose Texas, also they lose Oregon, and all of Oregon. Carry this +news—I am persuaded that it will be welcome—to that +gentleman whose ear I know you have; and believe me always, my dear +Madam, with respect and admiration, yours, for the State of Texas, +Van Zandt."</p> +<p>I drew a deep breath as I saw this proof of double play on the +part of this representative of the republic of the Southwest. "They +are traitors!" I exclaimed. "But there must be +action—something must be done at once. I must not wait; I +must go! I must take this, at least, to Mr. Calhoun."</p> +<p>She laughed now, joyously clapping her white hands together. +"Good!" she said. "You are a man, after all. You may yet grow +brain."</p> +<p>"Have I been fair with you thus far?" she asked at length.</p> +<p>"More than fair. I could not have asked this of you. In an hour +I have learned the news of years. But will you not also tell me +what is the news from Château Ramezay? Then, indeed, I could +go home feeling I had done very much for my chief."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, I can not do so. You will not tell me that other +news."</p> +<p>"Of what?"</p> +<p>"Of your nuptials!"</p> +<p>"Madam, I can not do so. But for you, much as I owe you, I would +like to wring your neck. I would like to take your arms in my hands +and crush them, until—"</p> +<p>"Until what?" Her face was strange. I saw a hand raised to her +throat.</p> +<p>"Until you told me about Oregon!" said I.</p> +<p>I saw her arms move—just one instant—her body +incline. She gazed at me steadily, somberly. Then her hands +fell.</p> +<p>"Ah, God! how I hate you both!" she said; "you and her. You +<i>were</i> married, after all! Yes, it can be, it can be! A woman +may love one man—even though he could give her only a bed of +husks! And a man may love a woman, too—one woman! I had not +known."</p> +<p>I could only gaze at her, now more in perplexity than ever. +Alike her character and her moods were beyond me. What she was or +had been I could not guess; only, whatever she was, she was not +ordinary, that was sure, and was to be classified under no ordinary +rule. Woman or secret agent she was, and in one or other identity +she could be my friend or my powerful enemy, could aid my country +powerfully if she had the whim; or damage it irreparably if she had +the desire. But—yes—as I studied her that keen, tense, +vital moment, she was woman!</p> +<p>A deep fire burned in her eyes, that was true; but on her face +was—what? It was not rage, it was not passion, it was not +chagrin. No, in truth and justice I swear that what I then saw on +her face was that same look I had noted once before, an expression +of almost childish pathos, of longing, of appeal for something +missed or gone, though much desired. No vanity could contemplate +with pleasure a look like that on the face of a woman such as +Helena von Ritz.</p> +<p>I fancied her unstrung by excitement, by the strain of her +trying labor, by the loneliness of her life, uncertain, +misunderstood, perhaps, as it was. I wondered if she could be more +unhappy than I myself, if life could offer her less than it did to +me. But I dared not prolong our masking, lest all should be +unmasked.</p> +<p>"It is nothing!" she said at last, and laughed gaily as +ever.</p> +<p>"Yes, Madam, it is nothing. I admit my defeat. I shall ask no +more favors, expect no further information from you, for I have not +earned it, and I can not pay. I will make no promise that I could +not keep."</p> +<p>"Then we part even!"</p> +<p>"As enemies or friends?"</p> +<p>"I do not yet know. I can not think—for a long time. But +I, too, am defeated."</p> +<p>"I do not understand how Madam can be defeated in anything."</p> +<p>"Ah, I am defeated only because I have won. I have your secret; +you do not have mine. But I laid also another wager, with myself. I +have lost it. Ceremony or not—and what does the ceremony +value?—you <i>are</i> married. I had not known marriage to be +possible. I had not known you—you savages. No—so +much—I had not known."</p> +<p>"Monsieur, adieu!" she added swiftly.</p> +<p>I bent and kissed her hand. "Madam, <i>au revoir!</i>"</p> +<p>"No, <i>adieu!</i> Go!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>A HUNTER OF BUTTERFLIES</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>I love men, not because they are men, but because they are not +women.—<i>Queen Christina</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>There was at that time in Montreal a sort of news room and +public exchange, which made a place of general meeting. It was +supplied with newspapers and the like, and kept up by subscriptions +of the town merchants—a spacious room made out of the old +Methodist chapel on St. Joseph Street. I knew this for a place of +town gossip, and hoped I might hit upon something to aid me in my +errand, which was no more than begun, it seemed. Entering the place +shortly before noon, I made pretense of reading, all the while with +an eye and an ear out for anything that might happen.</p> +<p>As I stared in pretense at the page before me, I fumbled idly in +a pocket, with unthinking hand, and brought out to place before me +on the table, an object of which at first I was +unconscious—the little Indian blanket clasp. As it lay before +me I felt seized of a sudden hatred for it, and let fall on it a +heavy hand. As I did so, I heard a voice at my ear.</p> +<p>"<i>Mein Gott</i>, man, do not! You break it, surely."</p> +<p>I started at this. I had not heard any one approach. I +discovered now that the speaker had taken a seat near me at the +table, and could not fail to see this object which lay before +me.</p> +<p>"I beg pardon," he said, in a broken speech which showed his +foreign birth; "but it iss so beautiful; to break it iss +wrong."</p> +<p>Something in his appearance and speech fixed my attention. He +was a tall, bent man, perhaps sixty years of age, of gray hair and +beard, with the glasses and the unmistakable air of the student. +His stooped shoulders, his weakened eye, his thin, blue-veined +hand, the iron-gray hair standing like a ruff above his forehead, +marked him not as one acquainted with a wild life, but better +fitted for other days and scenes.</p> +<p>I pushed the trinket along the table towards him.</p> +<p>"'Tis of little value," I said, "and is always in the way when I +would find anything in my pocket."</p> +<p>"But once some one hass made it; once it hass had value. Tell me +where you get it?"</p> +<p>"North of the Platte, in our western territories," I said. "I +once traded in that country."</p> +<p>"You are American?"</p> +<p>"Yes."</p> +<p>"So," he said thoughtfully. "So. A great country, a very great +country. Me, I also live in it."</p> +<p>"Indeed?" I said. "In what part?"</p> +<p>"It iss five years since I cross the Rockies."</p> +<p>"You have crossed the Rockies? I envy you."</p> +<p>"You meesunderstand me. I live west of them for five years. I am +now come east."</p> +<p>"All the more, then, I envy you! You have perhaps seen the +Oregon country? That has always been my dream."</p> +<p>My eye must have kindled at that, for he smiled at me.</p> +<p>"You are like all Americans. They leave their own homes and make +new governments, yess? Those men in Oregon haf made a new +government for themselfs, and they tax those English traders to pay +for a government which iss American!"</p> +<p>I studied him now closely. If he had indeed lived so long in the +Oregon settlements, he knew far more about certain things than I +did.</p> +<p>"News travels slowly over so great a distance," said I. "Of +course I know nothing of these matters except that last year and +the year before the missionaries have come east to ask us for more +settlers to come out to Oregon. I presume they want their churches +filled."</p> +<p>"But most their <i>farms!</i>" said the old man.</p> +<p>"You have been at Fort Vancouver?"</p> +<p>He nodded. "Also to Fort Colville, far north; also to what they +call California, far south; and again to what they may yet call +Fort Victoria. I haf seen many posts of the Hudson Bay +Company."</p> +<p>I was afraid my eyes showed my interest; but he went on.</p> +<p>"I haf been, in the Columbia country, and in the Willamette +country, where most of your Americans are settled. I know somewhat +of California. Mr. Howard, of the Hudson Bay Company, knows also of +this country of California. He said to those English gentlemans at +our meeting last night that England should haf someting to offset +California on the west coast; because, though Mexico claims +California, the Yankees really rule there, and will rule there yet +more. He iss right; but they laughed at him."</p> +<p>"Oh, I think little will come of all this talk," I said +carelessly. "It is very far, out to Oregon." Yet all the time my +heart was leaping. So he had been there, at that very meeting of +which I could learn nothing!</p> +<p>"You know not what you say. A thousand men came into Oregon last +year. It iss like one of the great migrations of the peoples of +Asia, of Europe. I say to you, it iss a great epoch. There iss a +folk-movement such as we haf not seen since the days of the Huns, +the Goths, the Vandals, since the Cimri movement. It iss an epoch, +my friend! It iss fate that iss in it."</p> +<p>"So, then, it is a great country?" I asked.</p> +<p>"It iss so great, these traders do not wish it known. They wish +only that it may be savage; also that their posts and their harems +may be undisturbed. That iss what they wish. These Scots go wild +again, in the wilderness. They trade and they travel, but it iss +not homes they build. Sir George Simpson wants steel traps and not +ploughs west of the Rockies. That iss all!"</p> +<p>"They do not speak so of Doctor McLaughlin," I began +tentatively.</p> +<p>"My friend, a great man, McLaughlin, believe me! But he iss not +McKay; he iss not Simpson; he iss not Behrens; he iss not Colville; +he iss not Douglas. And I say to you, as I learned last +night—you see, they asked me also to tell what I knew of +Oregon—I say to you that last night McLaughlin was deposed. +He iss in charge no more—so soon as they can get word to him, +he loses his place at Vancouver."</p> +<p>"After a lifetime in the service!" I commented.</p> +<p>"Yess, after a lifetime; and McLaughlin had brain and heart, +too. If England would listen to him, she would learn sometings. He +plants, he plows, he bass gardens and mills and houses and herds. +Yess, if they let McLaughlin alone, they would haf a civilization +on the Columbia, and not a fur-trading post. Then they could oppose +your civilization there. That iss what he preaches. Simpson +preaches otherwise. Simpson loses Oregon to England, it may +be."</p> +<p>"You know much about affairs out in Oregon," I ventured again. +"Now, I did not happen to be present at the little meeting last +night."</p> +<p>"I heard it all," he remarked carelessly, "until I went to +sleep. I wass bored. I care not to hear of the splendor of +England!"</p> +<p>"Then you think there is a chance of trouble between our country +and England, out there?"</p> +<p>He smiled. "It iss not a chance, but a certainty," he said. +"Those settlers will not gif up. And England is planning to push +them out!"</p> +<p>"We had not heard that!" I ventured.</p> +<p>"It wass only agreed last night. England will march this summer +seven hundred men up the Peace River. In the fall they will be +across the Rockies. So! They can take boats easily down the streams +to Oregon. You ask if there will be troubles. I tell you, +yess."</p> +<p>"And which wins, my friend?" I feared he would hear my heart +thumping at this news.</p> +<p>"If you stop where you are, England wins. If you keep on going +over the mountains England shall lose."</p> +<p>"What time can England make with her brigades, west-bound, my +friend?" I asked him casually. He answered with gratifying +scientific precision.</p> +<p>"From Edmonton to Fort Colville, west of the Rockies, it hass +been done in six weeks and five days, by Sir George himself. From +Fort Colville down it iss easy by boats. It takes the +<i>voyageur</i> three months to cross, or four months. It would +take troops twice that long, or more. For you in the States, you +can go faster. And, ah! my friend, it iss worth the race, that +Oregon. Believe me, it iss full of bugs—of new bugs; twelve +new species I haf discovered and named. It iss sometings of honor, +iss it not?"</p> +<p>"What you say interests me very much, sir," I said. "I am only +an American trader, knocking around to see the world a little bit. +You seem to have been engaged in some scientific pursuit in that +country."</p> +<p>"Yess," he said. "Mein own government and mein own university, +they send me to this country to do what hass not been done. I am +insectologer. Shall I show you my bugs of Oregon? You shall see +them, yess? Come with me to my hotel. You shall see many bugs, such +as science hass not yet known."</p> +<p>I was willing enough to go with him; and true to his word he did +show me such quantities of carefully prepared and classified +insects as I had not dreamed our own country offered.</p> +<p>"Twelve new species!" he said, with pride. "Mein own country +will gif me honor for this. Five years I spend. Now I go back +home.</p> +<p>"I shall not tell you what nickname they gif me in Oregon," he +added, smiling; "but my real name iss Wolfram von Rittenhofen. +Berlin, it wass last my home. Tell me, you go soon to Oregon?"</p> +<p>"That is very possible," I answered; and this time at least I +spoke the truth. "We are bound in opposite directions, but if you +are sailing for Europe this spring, you would save time and gain +comfort by starting from New York. It would give us great pleasure +if we could welcome so distinguished a scientist in +Washington."</p> +<p>"No, I am not yet distinguished. Only shall I be distinguished +when I have shown my twelve new species to mein own +university."</p> +<p>"But it would give me pleasure also to show you Washington. You +should see also the government of those backwoodsmen who are +crowding out to Oregon. Would you not like to travel with me in +America so far as that?"</p> +<p>He shook his head doubtfully. "Perhaps I make mistake to come by +the St. Lawrence? It would be shorter to go by New York? Well, I +haf no hurry. I think it over, yess."</p> +<p>"But tell me, where did you get that leetle thing?" he asked me +again presently, taking up in his hand the Indian clasp.</p> +<p>"I traded for it among the Crow Indians."</p> +<p>"You know what it iss, eh?"</p> +<p>"No, except that it is Indian made."</p> +<p>He scanned the round disks carefully. "Wait!" he exclaimed. "I +show you sometings."</p> +<p>He reached for my pencil, drew toward him a piece of paper, +taking from his pocket meantime a bit of string. Using the latter +for a radius, he drew a circle on the piece of paper.</p> +<p>"Now look what I do!" he said, as I bent over curiously. "See, I +draw a straight line through the circle. I divide it in half, so. I +divide it in half once more, and make a point. Now I shorten my +string, one-half. On each side of my long line I make me a half +circle—only half way round on the opposite sides. So, now, +what I got, eh? You understand him?"</p> +<p>I shook my head. He pointed in turn to the rude ornamentation in +the shell clasp. I declare that then I could see a resemblance +between the two designs!</p> +<p>"It is curious," I said.</p> +<p>"<i>Mein Gott</i>! it iss more than curious. It iss vonderful! I +haf two <i>Amazonias</i> collected by my own bands, and twelve +species of my own discovery, yess, in butterflies alone. That iss +much? Listen. It iss notings! <i>Here</i> iss the +<i>discovery!</i>"</p> +<p>He took a pace or two excitedly, and came back to thump with his +forefinger on the little desk.</p> +<p>"What you see before you iss the sign of the Great Monad! It iss +known in China, in Burmah, in all Asia, in all Japan. It iss sign +of the great One, of the great Two. In your hand iss the Tah +Gook—the Oriental symbol for life, for sex. Myself, I haf +seen that in Sitka on Chinese brasses; I haf seen it on Japanese +signs, in one land and in another land. But here you show it to me +made by the hand of some ignorant aborigine of <i>this</i> +continent! On <i>this</i> continent, where it did not originate and +does not belong! It iss a discovery! Science shall hear of it. It +iss the link of Asia to America. It brings me fame!"</p> +<p>He put his hand into a pocket, and drew it out half filled with +gold pieces and with raw gold in the form of nuggets, as though he +would offer exchange. I waved him back. "No," said I; "you are +welcome to one of these disks, if you please. If you wish, I will +take one little bit of these. But tell me, where did you find these +pieces of raw gold?"</p> +<p>"Those? They are notings. I recollect me I found these one day +up on the Rogue River, not far from my cabin. I am pursuing a most +beautiful moth, such as I haf not in all my collection. So, I fall +on a log; I skin me my leg. In the moss I find some bits of rock. I +recollect me not where, but believe it wass somewhere there. But +what I find now, here, by a stranger—it iss worth more than +gold! My friend, I thank you, I embrace you! I am favored by fate +to meet you. Go with you to Washington? Yess, yess, I go!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER +XVIII</h2> +<h3>THE MISSING SLIPPER</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>There will always remain something to be said of woman as long +as there is one on earth.—<i>Bauflers</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>My new friend, I was glad to note, seemed not anxious to +terminate our acquaintance, although in his amiable and childlike +fashion he babbled of matters which to me seemed unimportant. He +was eager to propound his views on the connection of the American +tribes with the peoples of the Orient, whereas I was all for +talking of the connection of England and the United States with +Oregon. Thus we passed the luncheon hour at the hostelry of my +friend Jacques Bertillon; after which I suggested a stroll about +the town for a time, there being that upon my mind which left me +ill disposed to remain idle. He agreed to my suggestion, a fact for +which I soon was to feel thankful for more reasons than one.</p> +<p>Before we started upon our stroll, I asked him to step to my own +room, where I had left my pipe. As we paused here for a moment, he +noticed on the little commode a pair of pistols of American make, +and, with a word of apology, took them up to examine them.</p> +<p>"You also are acquainted with these?" he asked politely.</p> +<p>"It is said that I am," I answered.</p> +<p>"Sometimes you need to be?" he said, smiling. There smote upon +me, even as he spoke, the feeling that his remark was strangely +true. My eye fell on the commode's top, casually. I saw that it now +was bare. I recalled the strange warning of the baroness the +evening previous. I was watched! My apartment had been entered in +my absence. Property of mine had been taken.</p> +<p>My perturbation must have been discoverable in my face. "What +iss it?" asked the old man. "You forget someting?"</p> +<p>"No," said I, stammering. "It is nothing."</p> +<p>He looked at me dubiously. "Well, then," I admitted; "I miss +something from my commode here. Some one has taken it."</p> +<p>"It iss of value, perhaps?" he inquired politely.</p> +<p>"Well, no; not of intrinsic value. 'Twas only a slipper—of +white satin, made by Braun, of Paris."</p> +<p>"<i>One</i> slipper? Of what use?—"</p> +<p>"It belonged to a lady—I was about to return it," I said; +but I fear my face showed me none too calm. He broke out in a +gentle laugh.</p> +<p>"So, then, we had here the stage setting," said he; "the +pistols, the cause for pistols, sometimes, eh?"</p> +<p>"It is nothing—I could easily explain—"</p> +<p>"There iss not need, my young friend. Wass I not also young +once? Yess, once wass I young." He laid down the pistols, and I +placed them with my already considerable personal armament, which +seemed to give him no concern.</p> +<p>"Each man studies for himself his own specialty," mused the old +man. "You haf perhaps studied the species of woman. Once, also +I."</p> +<p>I laughed, and shook my head.</p> +<p>"Many species are there," he went on; "many with wings of gold +and blue and green, of unknown colors; creatures of air and sky. +Haf I not seen them? But always that one species which we pursue, +we do not find. Once in my life, in Oregon, I follow through the +forest a smell of sweet fields of flowers coming to me. At last I +find it—a wide field of flowers. It wass in summer time. Over +the flowers were many, many butterflies. Some of them I knew; some +of them I had. One great new one, such as I haf not seen, it wass +there. It rested. 'I shall now make it mine,' I said. It iss fame +to gif name first to this so noble a species. I would inclose it +with mein little net. Like this, you see, I creep up to it. As I am +about to put it gently in my net—not to harm it, or break it, +or brush away the color of its wings—lo! like a puff of down, +it rises and goes above my head. I reach for it; I miss. It rises +still more; it flies; it disappears! So! I see it no more. It iss +gone. <i>Stella Terræ</i> I name it—my Star of the +Earth, that which I crave but do not always haf, eh? Believe me, my +friend, yess, the study of the species hass interest. Once I wass +young. Should I see that little shoe I think myself of the time +when I wass young, and made studies—<i>Ach, Mein +Gott!</i>—also of the species of woman! I, too, saw it fly +from me, my <i>Stella Terræ!</i>"</p> +<p>We walked, my friend still musing and babbling, myself still +anxious and uneasy. We turned out of narrow Notre Dame Street, and +into St. Lawrence Main Street. As we strolled I noted without much +interest the motley life about me, picturesque now with the +activities of the advancing spring. Presently, however, my idle +gaze was drawn to two young Englishmen whose bearing in some way +gave me the impression that they belonged in official or military +life, although they were in civilian garb.</p> +<p>Presently the two halted, and separated. The taller kept on to +the east, to the old French town. At length I saw him joined, as +though by appointment, by another gentleman, one whose appearance +at once gave me reason for a second look. The severe air of the +Canadian spring seemed not pleasing to him, and he wore his coat +hunched up about his neck, as though he were better used to milder +climes. He accosted my young Englishman, and without hesitation the +two started off together. As they did so I gave an involuntary +exclamation. The taller man I had seen once before, the shorter, +very many times—in Washington!</p> +<p>"Yess," commented my old scientist calmly; "so strange! They go +together."</p> +<p>"Ah, you know them!" I almost fell upon him.</p> +<p>"Yess—last night. The tall one iss Mr. Peel, a young +Englishman; the other is Mexican, they said—Señor +Yturrio, of Mexico. He spoke much. Me, I wass sleepy then. But also +that other tall one we saw go back—that wass Captain Parke, +also of the British Navy. His ship iss the war boat +<i>Modesté</i>—a fine one. I see her often when I walk +on the riffer front, there."</p> +<p>I turned to him and made some excuse, saying that presently I +would join him again at the hotel. Dreamily as ever, he smiled and +took his leave. For myself, I walked on rapidly after the two +figures, then a block or so ahead of me.</p> +<p>I saw them turn into a street which was familiar to myself. They +passed on, turning from time to time among the old houses of the +French quarter. Presently they entered the short side street which +I myself had seen for the first time the previous night. I +pretended to busy myself with my pipe, as they turned in at the +very gate which I knew, and knocked at the door which I had entered +with my mysterious companion!</p> +<p>The door opened without delay; they both entered.</p> +<p>So, then, Helena von Ritz had other visitors! England and Mexico +were indeed conferring here in Montreal. There were matters going +forward here in which my government was concerned. That was +evident. I was almost in touch with them. That also was evident. +How, then, might I gain yet closer touch?</p> +<p>At the moment nothing better occurred to me than to return to my +room and wait for a time. It would serve no purpose for me to +disclose myself, either in or out of the apartments of the +baroness, and it would not aid me to be seen idling about the +neighborhood in a city where there was so much reason to suppose +strangers were watched. I resolved to wait until the next morning, +and to take my friend Von Rittenhofen with me. He need not know all +that I knew, yet in case of any accident to myself or any sudden +contretemps, he would serve both as a witness and as an excuse for +disarming any suspicion which might be entertained regarding +myself.</p> +<p>The next day he readily enough fell in with my suggestion of a +morning stroll, and again we sallied forth, at about nine o'clock, +having by that time finished a <i>déjeûner à la +fourchette</i> with Jacques Bertillon, which to my mind compared +unfavorably with one certain other I had shared.</p> +<p>A sense of uneasiness began to oppress me, I knew not why, +before I had gone half way down the little street from the corner +where we turned. It was gloomy and dismal enough at the best, and +on this morning an unusual apathy seemed to sit upon it, for few of +the shutters were down, although the hour was now mid-morning. Here +and there a homely habitant appeared, and bade us good morning; and +once in a while we saw the face of a good wife peering from the +window. Thus we passed some dozen houses or so, in a row, and +paused opposite the little gate. I saw that the shutters were +closed, or at least all but one or two, which were partly ajar. +Something said to me that it would be as well for me to turn +back.</p> +<p>I might as well have done so. We passed up the little walk, and +I raised the knocker at the door; but even as it sounded I knew +what would happen. There came to me that curious feeling which one +experiences when one knocks at the door of a house which lacks +human occupancy. Even more strongly I had that strange feeling now, +because this sound was not merely that of unoccupied rooms—it +came from rooms empty and echoing!</p> +<p>I tried the door. It was not locked. I flung it wide, and +stepped within. At first I could not adjust my eyes to the dimness. +Absolute silence reigned. I pushed open a shutter and looked about +me. The rooms were not only unoccupied, but unfurnished! The walls +and floors were utterly bare! Not a sign of human occupancy +existed. I hastened out to the little walk, and looked up and down +the street, to satisfy myself that I had made no mistake. No, this +was the number—this was the place. Yesterday these rooms were +fitted sumptuously as for a princess; now they were naked. Not a +stick of the furniture existed, nor was there any trace either of +haste or deliberation in this removal. What had been, simply was +not; that was all.</p> +<p>Followed by my wondering companion, I made such inquiry as I +could in the little neighborhood. I could learn nothing. No one +knew anything of the occupant of these rooms. No one had heard any +carts approach, nor had distinguished any sounds during the +night.</p> +<p>"Sir," said I to my friend, at last; "I do not understand it. I +have pursued, but it seems the butterfly has flown." So, both +silent, myself morosely so, we turned and made our way back across +the town.</p> +<p>Half an hour later we were on the docks at the river front, +where we could look out over the varied shipping which lay there. +My scientific friend counted one vessel after another, and at last +pointed to a gap in the line.</p> +<p>"Yesterday I wass here," he said, "and I counted all the ships +and their names. The steamer <i>Modesté</i> she lay there. +Now she iss gone."</p> +<p>I pulled up suddenly. This was the ship which carried Captain +Parke and his friend Lieutenant Peel, of the British Navy. The +secret council at Montreal was, therefore, apparently ended! There +would be an English land expedition, across Canada to Oregon. Would +there be also an expedition by sea? At least my errand in Montreal, +now finished, had not been in vain, even though it ended in a +mystery and a query. But ah! had I but been less clumsy in that war +of wits with a woman, what might I have learned! Had she not been +free to mock me, what might I not have learned! She was free to +mock me, why? Because of Elisabeth. Was it then true that faith and +loyalty could purchase alike faithlessness and—failure?</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<h3>THE GENTLEMAN FROM TENNESSEE</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Women distrust men too much in general, and not enough in +particular.—<i>Philibert Commerson.</i></p> +</div> +<p>Now all the more was it necessary for me and my friend from +Oregon to hasten on to Washington. I say nothing further of the +arguments I employed with him, and nothing of our journey to +Washington, save that we made it hastily as possible. It was now +well toward the middle of April, and, brief as had been my absence, +I knew there had been time for many things to happen in Washington +as well as in Montreal.</p> +<p>Rumors abounded, I found as soon as I struck the first cities +below the Canadian line. It was in the air now that under Calhoun +there would be put before Congress a distinct and definite attempt +at the annexation of Texas. Stories of all sorts were on the +streets; rumors of the wrath of Mr. Clay; yet other rumors of +interesting possibilities at the coming Whig and Democratic +conventions. Everywhere was that strange, ominous, indescribable +tension of the atmosphere which exists when a great people is moved +deeply. The stern figure of Calhoun, furnishing courage for a +people, even as he had for a president, loomed large in the public +prints.</p> +<p>Late as it was when I reached Washington, I did not hesitate to +repair at once to the residence of Mr. Calhoun; and I took with me +as my best adjutant my strange friend Von Rittenhofen, who, I +fancied, might add detailed information which Mr. Calhoun would +find of value. We were admitted to Mr. Calhoun, and after the first +greetings he signified that he would hear my report. He sat, his +long, thin hands on his chair arm, as I went on with my story, his +keen eyes scanning also my old companion as I spoke. I explained +what the latter knew regarding Oregon. I saw Mr. Calhoun's eyes +kindle. As usual, he did not lack decision.</p> +<p>"Sir," said he to Von Rittenhofen presently, "we ourselves are +young, yet I trust not lacking in a great nation's interest in the +arts and sciences. It occurs to me now that in yourself we have +opportunity to add to our store of knowledge in respect to certain +biological features."</p> +<p>The old gentleman rose and bowed. "I thank you for the honor of +your flattery, sir," he began; but Calhoun raised a gentle +hand.</p> +<p>"If it would please you, sir, to defer your visit to your own +country for a time, I can secure for you a situation in our +department in biology, where your services would be of extreme +worth to us. The salary would also allow you to continue your +private researches into the life of our native tribes."</p> +<p>Von Rittenhofen positively glowed at this. "Ach, what an honor!" +he began again.</p> +<p>"Meantime," resumed Calhoun, "not to mention the value which +that research would have for us, we could also find use, at proper +remuneration, for your private aid in making up a set of maps of +that western country which you know so well, and of which even I +myself am so ignorant. I want to know the distances, the +topography, the means of travel. I want to know the peculiarities +of that country of Oregon. It would take me a year to send a +messenger, for at best it requires six months to make the outbound +passage, and in the winter the mountains are impassable. If you +could, then, take service with us now, we should be proud to make +you such return as your scientific attainments deserve."</p> +<p>Few could resist the persuasiveness of Mr. Calhoun's speech, +certainly not Von Rittenhofen, who thus found offered him precisely +what he would have desired. I was pleased to see him so happily +situated and so soon. Presently we despatched him down to my hotel, +where I promised later to make him more at home. In his elation +over the prospect he now saw before him, the old man fairly +babbled. Germany seemed farthest from his mind. After his +departure, Calhoun again turned to me.</p> +<p>"I want you to remain, Nicholas," said he, "because I have an +appointment with a gentleman who will soon be present."</p> +<p>"Rather a late hour, sir," I ventured. "Are you keeping faith +with Doctor Ward?"</p> +<p>"I have no time for hobbies," he exclaimed, half petulantly. +"What I must do is this work. The man we are to meet to-night is +Mr. Polk. It is important."</p> +<p>"You would not call Mr. Polk important?" I smiled frankly, and +Calhoun replied in icy kind.</p> +<p>"You can not tell how large a trouble may be started by a small +politician," said he. "At least, we will hear what he has to say. +'Twas he that sought the meeting, not myself."</p> +<p>Perhaps half an hour later, Mr. Calhoun's old negro man ushered +in this awaited guest, and we three found ourselves alone in one of +those midnight conclaves which went on in Washington even then as +they do to-day. Mr. Polk was serious as usual; his indecisive +features wearing the mask of solemnity, which with so many passed +as wisdom.</p> +<p>"I have come, Mr. Calhoun," said he—when the latter had +assured him that my presence would entail no risk to him—"to +talk over this Texas situation."</p> +<p>"Very well," said my chief. "My own intentions regarding Texas +are now of record."</p> +<p>"Precisely," said Mr. Polk. "Now, is it wise to make a definite +answer in that matter yet? Would it not be better to defer action +until later—until after, I may say—"</p> +<p>"Until after you know what your own chances will be, Jim?" asked +Mr. Calhoun, smiling grimly.</p> +<p>"Why, that is it, John, precisely, that is it exactly! Now, I +don't know what you think of my chances in the convention, but I +may say that a very large branch of the western Democracy is +favoring me for the nomination." Mr. Polk pursed a short upper lip +and looked monstrous grave. His extreme morality and his extreme +dignity made his chief stock in trade. Different from his master, +Old Hickory, he was really at heart the most aristocratic of +Democrats, and like many another so-called leader, most of his love +for the people really was love of himself.</p> +<p>"Yes, I know that some very strange things happen in politics," +commented Calhoun, smiling.</p> +<p>"But, God bless me! you don't call it out of the way for me to +seek the nomination? <i>Some</i> one must be president! Why not +myself? Now, I ask your support."</p> +<p>"My support is worth little, Jim," said my chief. "But have you +earned it? You have never consulted my welfare, nor has Jackson. I +had no majority behind me in the Senate. I doubt even the House +now. Of what use could I be to you?"</p> +<p>"At least, you could decline to do anything definite in this +Texas matter."</p> +<p>"Why should a man ever do anything <i>in</i>definite, Jim Polk?" +asked Calhoun, bending on him his frosty eyes.</p> +<p>"But you may set a fire going which you can not stop. The people +may get out of hand <i>before the convention!</i>"</p> +<p>"Why should they not? They have interests as well as we. Do they +not elect us to subserve those interests?"</p> +<p>"I yield to no man in my disinterested desire for the welfare of +the American people," began Polk pompously, throwing back the hair +from his forehead.</p> +<p>"Of course not," said Calhoun grimly. "My own idea is that it is +well to give the people what is already theirs. They feel that +Texas belongs to them."</p> +<p>"True," said the Tennesseean, hesitating; "a good strong blast +about our martial spirit and the men of the Revolution—that +is always good before an election or a convention. Very true. But +now in my own case—"</p> +<p>"Your own case is not under discussion, Jim. It is the case of +the United States! I hold a brief for them, not for you or any +other man!"</p> +<p>"How do you stand in case war should be declared against +Mexico?" asked Mr. Polk. "That ought to be a popular measure. The +Texans have captured the popular imagination. The Alamo rankles in +our nation's memory. What would you say to a stiff demand there, +with a strong show of military force behind it?"</p> +<p>"I should say nothing as to a strong <i>showing</i> in any case. +I should only say that if war came legitimately—not +otherwise—I should back it with all my might. I feel the same +in regard to war with England."</p> +<p>"With England? What chance would we have with so powerful a +nation as that?"</p> +<p>"There is a God of Battles," said John Calhoun.</p> +<p>The chin of James K. Polk of Tennessee sank down into his stock. +His staring eyes went half shut. He was studying something in his +own mind. At last he spoke, tentatively, as was always his way +until he got the drift of things.</p> +<p>"Well, now, perhaps in the case of England that is good +politics," he began. "It is very possible that the people hate +England as much as they do Mexico. Do you not think so?"</p> +<p>"I think they fear her more."</p> +<p>"But I was only thinking of the popular imagination!"</p> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<a href="images/212.jpg"><img src="images/212.jpg" width="45%" alt= +"" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"Fifty-four Forty or Fight!" exclaimed Polk.</b> +<br /></div> +<p>"You are always thinking of the popular imagination, Jim. You +have been thinking of that for some time in Tennessee. All that +outcry about the whole of Oregon is ill-timed to-day."</p> +<p>"<i>Fifty-four Forty or Fight</i>; that sounds well!" exclaimed +Polk; "eh?"</p> +<p>"Trippingly on the tongue, yes!" said John Calhoun. "But how +would it sound to the tune of cannon fire? How would it look +written in the smoke of musketry?"</p> +<p>"It might not come to that," said Polk, shifting in his seat "I +was thinking of it only as a rallying cry for the campaign. Dash +me—I beg pardon—" he looked around to see if there were +any Methodists present—"but I believe I could go into the +convention with that war cry behind me and sweep the boards of all +opposition!"</p> +<p>"And afterwards?"</p> +<p>"But England may back down," argued Mr. Polk. "A strong showing +in the Southwest and Northwest might do wonders for us."</p> +<p>"But what would be behind that strong showing, Mr. Polk?" +demanded John Calhoun. "We would win the combat with Mexico, of +course, if that iniquitous measure should take the form of war. But +not Oregon—we might as well or better fight in Africa than +Oregon. It is not yet time. In God's name, Jim Polk, be careful of +what you do! Cease this cry of taking all of Oregon. You will +plunge this country not into one war, but two. Wait! Only wait, and +we will own all this continent to the Saskatchewan—or even +farther north."</p> +<p>"Well," said the other, "have you not said there is a God of +Battles?"</p> +<p>"The Lord God of Hosts, yes!" half screamed old John Calhoun; +"yes, the God of Battles for <i>nations</i>, for +<i>principles</i>—but <i>not</i> for <i>parties</i>! For the +<i>principle</i> of democracy, Jim Polk, yes, yes; but for the +Democratic <i>party</i>, or the Whig <i>party</i>, or for any +demagogue who tries to lead either, no, no!"</p> +<p>The florid face of Polk went livid. "Sir," said he, reaching for +his hat, "at least I have learned what I came to learn. I know how +you will appear on the floor of the convention, Sir, you will +divide this party hopelessly. You are a traitor to the Democratic +party! I charge it to your face, here and now. I came to ask of you +your support, and find you only, talking of principles! Sir, tell +me, what have <i>principles</i> to do with <i>elections</i>?"</p> +<p>John Calhoun looked at him for one long instant. He looked down +then at his own thin, bloodless hands, his wasted limbs. Then he +turned slowly and rested his arms on the table, his face resting in +his hands. "My God!" I heard him groan.</p> +<p>To see my chief abused was a thing not in my nature to endure. I +forgot myself. I committed an act whose results pursued me for many +a year.</p> +<p>"Mr. Polk, sir," said I, rising and facing him, "damn you, sir, +you are not fit to untie Mr. Calhoun's shoe! I will not see you +offer him one word of insult. Quarrel with me if you like! You will +gain no votes here now in any case, that is sure!"</p> +<p>Utterly horrified at this, Mr. Polk fumbled with his hat and +cane, and, very red in the face, bowed himself out, still mumbling, +Mr. Calhoun rising and bowing his adieux.</p> +<p>My chief dropped into his chair again. For a moment he looked at +me directly. "Nick," said he at length slowly, "you have divided +the Democratic party. You split that party, right then and +there."</p> +<p>"Never!" I protested; "but if I did, 'twas ready enough for the +division. Let it split, then, or any party like it, if that is what +must hold it together! I will not stay in this work, Mr. Calhoun, +and hear you vilified. Platforms!"</p> +<p>"Platforms!" echoed my chief. His white hand dropped on the +table as he still sat looking at me. "But he will get you some +time, Nicholas!" he smiled. "Jim Polk will not forget."</p> +<p>"Let him come at me as he likes!" I fumed.</p> +<p>At last, seeing me so wrought up, Mr. Calhoun rose, and, +smiling, shook me heartily by the hand.</p> +<p>"Of course, this had to come one time or another," said he. "The +split was in the wood of their proposed platform of bluff and +insincerity. `What do the people say?' asks Jim Polk. 'What do they +<i>think</i>?' asks John Calhoun. And being now, in God's +providence; chosen to do some thinking for them, I have +thought."</p> +<p>He turned to the table and took up a long, folded document, +which I saw was done in his cramped hand and with many +interlineations. "Copy this out fair for me to-night, Nicholas," +said he. "This is our answer to the Aberdeen note. You have already +learned its tenor, the time we met Mr. Pakenham with Mr. Tyler at +the White House."</p> +<p>I grinned. "Shall we not take it across direct to Mr. Blair for +publication in his <i>Globe</i>?"</p> +<p>Mr. Calhoun smiled rather bitterly at this jest. The hostility +of Blair to the Tyler administration was a fact rather more than +well known.</p> +<p>"'Twill all get into Mr. Polk's newspaper fast enough," +commented he at last. "He gets all the news of the Mexican +ministry!"</p> +<p>"Ah, you think he cultivates the Doña Lucrezia, rather +than adores her!"</p> +<p>"I know it! One-third of Jim Polk may be human, but the other +two-thirds is politician. He will flatter that lady into +confidences. She is well nigh distracted at best, these days, what +with the fickleness of her husband and the yet harder abandonment +by her old admirer Pakenham; so Polk will cajole her into +disclosures, never fear. In return, when the time comes, he will +send an army of occupation into her country! And all the while, on +the one side and the other, he will appear to the public as a moral +and lofty-minded man."</p> +<p>"On whom neither man nor woman could depend!"</p> +<p>"Neither the one nor the other."</p> +<p>The exasperation of his tone amused me, as did this chance +importance of what seemed to me at the time merely a petticoat +situation.</p> +<p>"Silk! Mr. Calhoun," I grinned. "Still silk and dimity, my +faith! And you!"</p> +<p>He seemed a trifle nettled at this. "I must take men and women +and circumstances as I find them," he rejoined; "and must use such +agencies as are left me."</p> +<p>"If we temporarily lack the Baroness von Ritz to add zest to our +game," I hazarded, "we still have the Doña Lucrezia and her +little jealousies."</p> +<p>Calhoun turned quickly upon me with a sharp glance, as though +seized by some sudden thought. "By the Lord Harry! boy, you give me +an idea. Wait, now, for a moment. Do you go on with your copying +there, and excuse me for a time."</p> +<p>An instant later he passed from the room, his tall figure bent, +his hands clasped behind his back, and his face wrinkled in a +frown, as was his wont when occupied with some problem.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<h3>THE LADY FROM MEXICO</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>As soon as women are ours, we are no longer theirs.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21.5em;">—Montaigne.</span></p> +</div> +<p>After a time my chief reëntered the office room and bent +over me at my table. I put before him the draft of the document +which he had given me for clerical care.</p> +<p>"So," he said, "'tis ready—our declaration. I wonder what +may come of that little paper!"</p> +<p>"Much will come of it with a strong people back of it. The +trouble is only that what Democrat does, Whig condemns. And not +even all our party is with Mr. Tyler and yourself in this, Mr. +Calhoun. Look, for instance, at Mr. Polk and his plans." To this +venture on my part he made no present answer.</p> +<p>"I have no party, that is true," said he at last—"none but +you and Sam Ward!" He smiled with one of his rare, illuminating +smiles, different from the cold mirth which often marked him.</p> +<p>"At least, Mr. Calhoun, you do not take on your work for the +personal glory of it," said I hotly; "and one day the world will +know it!"</p> +<p>"'Twill matter very little to me then," said he bitterly. "But +come, now, I want more news about your trip to Montreal. What have +you done?"</p> +<p>So now, till far towards dawn of the next day, we sat and +talked. I put before him full details of my doings across the +border. He sat silent, his eye betimes wandering, as though +absorbed, again fixed on me, keen and glittering.</p> +<p>"So! So!" he mused at length, when I had finished, "England has +started a land party for Oregon! Can they get across next fall, +think you?"</p> +<p>"Hardly possible, sir," said I. "They could not go so swiftly as +the special fur packets. Winter would catch them this side of the +Rockies. It will be a year before they can reach Oregon."</p> +<p>"Time for a new president and a new policy," mused he.</p> +<p>"The grass is just beginning to sprout on the plains, Mr. +Calhoun," I began eagerly.</p> +<p>"Yes," he nodded. "God! if I were only young!"</p> +<p>"I am young, Mr. Calhoun," said I. "Send <i>me!</i>"</p> +<p>"Would you go?" he asked suddenly.</p> +<p>"I was going in any case."</p> +<p>"Why, how do you mean?" he demanded.</p> +<p>I felt the blood come to my face. "'Tis all over between Miss +Elisabeth Churchill and myself," said I, as calmly as I might.</p> +<p>"Tut! tut! a child's quarrel," he went on, "a child's quarrel! +`Twill all mend in time."</p> +<p>"Not by act of mine, then," said I hotly.</p> +<p>Again abstracted, he seemed not wholly to hear me.</p> +<p>"First," he mused, "the more important things"—riding over +my personal affairs as of little consequence.</p> +<p>"I will tell you, Nicholas," said he at last, wheeling swiftly +upon me. "Start next week! An army of settlers waits now for a +leader along the Missouri. Organize them; lead them out! Give them +enthusiasm! Tell them what Oregon is! You may serve alike our party +and our nation. You can not measure the consequences of prompt +action sometimes, done by a man who is resolved upon the right. A +thousand things may hinge on this. A great future may hinge upon +it."</p> +<p>It was only later that I was to know the extreme closeness of +his prophecy.</p> +<p>Calhoun began to pace up and down. "Besides her land forces," he +resumed, "England is despatching a fleet to the Columbia! I doubt +not that the <i>Modesté</i> has cleared for the Horn. There +may be news waiting for you, my son, when you get across!</p> +<p>"While you have been busy, I have not been idle," he continued. +"I have here another little paper which I have roughly drafted." He +handed me the document as he spoke.</p> +<p>"A treaty—with Texas!" I exclaimed.</p> +<p>"The first draft, yes. We have signed the memorandum. We await +only one other signature."</p> +<p>"Of Van Zandt!"</p> +<p>"Yes. Now comes Mr. Nicholas Trist, with word of a certain woman +to the effect that Mr. Van Zandt is playing also with England."</p> +<p>"And that woman also is playing with England."</p> +<p>Calhoun smiled enigmatically.</p> +<p>"But she has gone," said I, "who knows where? She, too, may have +sailed for Oregon, for all we know."</p> +<p>He looked at me as though with a flash of inspiration. "That may +be," said he; "it may very well be! That would cost us our hold +over Pakenham. Neither would we have any chance left with her."</p> +<p>"How do you mean, Mr. Calhoun?" said I. "I do not understand +you."</p> +<p>"Nicholas," said Mr. Calhoun, "that lady was much impressed with +you." He regarded me calmly, contemplatively, appraisingly.</p> +<p>"I do not understand you," I reiterated.</p> +<p>"I am glad that you do not and did not. In that case, all would +have been over at once. You would never have seen her a second +time. Your constancy was our salvation, and perhaps your own!"</p> +<p>He smiled in a way I liked none too well, but now I began myself +to engage in certain reflections. Was it then true that faith could +purchase faith—and win not failure, but success?</p> +<p>"At least she has flown," went on Calhoun. "But why? What made +her go? 'Tis all over now, unless, unless—unless—" he +added to himself a third time.</p> +<p>"But unless what?"</p> +<p>"Unless that chance word may have had some weight. You say that +you and she talked of <i>principles?</i>"</p> +<p>"Yes, we went so far into abstractions."</p> +<p>"So did I with her! I told her about this country; explained to +her as I could the beauties of the idea of a popular government. +'Twas as a revelation to her. She had never known a republican +government before, student as she is. Nicholas, your long legs and +my long head may have done some work after all! How did she seem to +part with you?"</p> +<p>"As though she hated me; as though she hated herself and all the +world. Yet not quite that, either. As though she would have +wept—that is the truth. I do not pretend to understand her. +She is a puzzle such as I have never known."</p> +<p>"Nor are you apt to know another her like. Look, here she is, +the paid spy, the secret agent, of England. Additionally, she is +intimately concerned with the private life of Mr. Pakenham. For the +love of adventure, she is engaged in intrigue also with Mexico. Not +content with that, born adventuress, eager devourer of any +hazardous and interesting intellectual offering, any puzzle, any +study, any intrigue—she comes at midnight to talk with me, +whom she knows to be the representative of yet a third power!"</p> +<p>"And finds you in your red nightcap!" I laughed.</p> +<p>"Did she speak of that?" asked Mr. Calhoun in consternation, +raising a hand to his head. "It may be that I forgot—but none +the less, she came!</p> +<p>"Yes, as I said, she came, by virtue of your long legs and your +ready way, as I must admit; and you were saved from her only, as I +believe—Why, God bless Elisabeth Churchill, my boy, that is +all! But my faith, how nicely it all begins to work out!"</p> +<p>"I do not share your enthusiasm, Mr. Calhoun," said I bitterly. +"On the contrary, it seems to me to work out in as bad a fashion as +could possibly be contrived."</p> +<p>"In due time you will see many things more plainly. Meantime, be +sure England will be careful. She will make no overt movement, I +should say, until she has heard from Oregon; which will not be +before my lady baroness shall have returned and reported to Mr. +Pakenham here. All of which means more time for us."</p> +<p>I began to see something of the structure of bold enterprise +which this man deliberately was planning; but no comment offered +itself; so that presently, he went on, as though in soliloquy.</p> +<p>"The Hudson Bay Company have deceived England splendidly enough. +Doctor McLaughlin, good man that he is, has not suited the Hudson +Bay Company. His removal means less courtesy to our settlers in +Oregon. Granted a less tactful leader than himself, there will be +friction with our high-strung frontiersmen in that country. No man +can tell when the thing will come to an issue. For my own part, I +would agree with Polk that we ought to own that country to +fifty-four forty—but what we <i>ought</i> to do and what we +can do are two separate matters. Should we force the issue now and +lose, we would lose for a hundred years. Should we advance firmly +and hold firmly what we gain, in perhaps less than one hundred +years we may win <i>all</i> of that country, as I just said to Mr. +Polk, to the River Saskatchewan—I know not where! In my own +soul, I believe no man may set a limit to the growth of the idea of +an honest government by the people. <i>And this continent is meant +for that honest government!</i>"</p> +<p>"We have already a Monroe Doctrine, Mr. Calhoun," said I. "What +you enunciate now is yet more startling. Shall we call it the +Calhoun Doctrine?"</p> +<p>He made no answer, but arose and paced up and down, stroking the +thin fringe of beard under his chin. Still he seemed to talk with +himself.</p> +<p>"We are not rich," he went on. "Our canals and railways are +young. The trail across our country is of monstrous difficulty. +Give us but a few years more and Oregon, ripe as a plum, would drop +in our lap. To hinder that is a crime. What Polk proposes is +insincerity, and all insincerity must fail. There is but one result +when pretense is pitted against preparedness. Ah, if ever we needed +wisdom and self-restraint, we need them now! Yet look at what we +face! Look at what we may lose! And that through +party—through platform—through <i>politics</i>!"</p> +<p>He sighed as he paused in his walk and turned to me. "But now, +as I said, we have at least time for Texas. And in regard to Texas +we need another woman."</p> +<p>I stared at him.</p> +<p>"You come now to me with proof that my lady baroness traffics +with Mexico as well as England," he resumed. "That is to say, +Yturrio meets my lady baroness. What is the inference? At least, +jealousy on the part of Yturrio's wife, whether or not she cares +for him! Now, jealousy between the sexes is a deadly weapon if well +handled. Repugnant as it is, we must handle it."</p> +<p>I experienced no great enthusiasm at the trend of events, and +Mr. Calhoun smiled at me cynically as he went on. "I see you don't +care for this sort of commission. At least, this is no midnight +interview. You shall call in broad daylight on the Señora +Yturrio. If you and my daughter will take my coach and four +to-morrow, I think she will gladly receive your cards. Perhaps also +she will consent to take the air of Washington with you. In that +case, she might drop in here for an ice. In such case, to conclude, +I may perhaps be favored with an interview with that lady. I must +have Van Zandt's signature to this treaty which you see here!"</p> +<p>"But these are Mexicans, and Van Zandt is leader of the Texans, +their most bitter enemies!"</p> +<p>"Precisely. All the less reason why Señora Yturrio should +be suspected."</p> +<p>"I am not sure that I grasp all this, Mr. Calhoun."</p> +<p>"Perhaps not You presently will know more. What seems to me +plain is that, since we seem to lose a valuable ally in the +Baroness von Ritz, we must make some offset to that loss. If +England has one woman on the Columbia, we must have another on the +Rio Grande!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<h3>POLITICS UNDER COVER</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>To a woman, the romances she makes are more amusing than those +she reads.—<i>Théophile Gautier</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>It was curious how cleverly this austere old man, unskilled in +the arts of gallantry, now handled the problem to which he had +addressed himself, even though that meant forecasting the whim of +yet another woman. It all came easily about, precisely as he had +planned.</p> +<p>It seemed quite correct for the daughter of our secretary of +state to call to inquire for the health of the fair Señora +Yturrio, and to present the compliments of Madam Calhoun, at that +time not in the city of Washington. Matters went so smoothly that I +felt justified in suggesting a little drive, and Señora +Yturrio had no hesitation in accepting. Quite naturally, our +stately progress finally brought us close to the residence of Miss +Calhoun. That lady suggested that, since the day was warm, it might +be well to descend and see if we might not find a sherbet; all of +which also seemed quite to the wish of the lady from Mexico. The +ease and warmth of Mr. Calhoun's greeting to her were such that she +soon was well at home and chatting very amiably. She spoke English +with but little hesitancy.</p> +<p>Lucrezia Yturrio, at that time not ill known in Washington's +foreign colony, was beautiful, in a sensuous, ripe way. Her hair +was dark, heavily coiled, and packed in masses above an oval +forehead. Her brows were straight, dark and delicate; her teeth +white and strong; her lips red and full; her chin well curved and +deep. A round arm and taper hand controlled a most artful fan. She +was garbed now, somewhat splendidly, in a corded cherry-colored +silk, wore gems enough to start a shop, and made on the whole a +pleasing picture of luxury and opulence. She spoke in a most +musical voice, with eyes sometimes cast modestly down. He had been +a poor student of her species who had not ascribed to her a wit of +her own; but as I watched her, somewhat apart, I almost smiled as I +reflected that her grave and courteous host had also a wit to match +it. Then I almost frowned as I recalled my own defeat in a somewhat +similar contest.</p> +<p>Mr. Calhoun expressed great surprise and gratification that mere +chance had enabled him to meet the wife of a gentleman so +distinguished in the diplomatic service as Señor Yturrio. +The Señora was equally gratified. She hoped she did not make +intrusion in thus coming. Mr. Calhoun assured her that he and his +were simple in their family life, and always delighted to meet +their friends.</p> +<p>"We are especially glad always to hear of our friends from the +Southwest," said he, at last, with a slight addition of formality +in tone and attitude.</p> +<p>At these words I saw my lady's eyes flicker. "It is fate, +Señor," said she, again casting down her eyes, and spreading +out her hands as in resignation, "fate which left Texas and Mexico +not always one."</p> +<p>"That may be," said Mr. Calhoun. "Perhaps fate, also, that those +of kin should cling together."</p> +<p>"How can a mere woman know?" My lady shrugged her very graceful +and beautiful shoulders—somewhat mature shoulders now, but +still beautiful.</p> +<p>"Dear Señora," said Mr. Calhoun, "there are so many +things a woman may not know. For instance, how could she know if +her husband should perchance leave the legation to which he was +attached and pay a visit to another nation?"</p> +<p>Again the slight flickering of her eyes, but again her hands +were outspread in protest.</p> +<p>"How indeed, Señor?"</p> +<p>"What if my young aide here, Mr. Trist, should tell you that he +has seen your husband some hundreds of miles away and in conference +with a lady supposed to be somewhat friendly towards—"</p> +<p>"Ah, you mean that baroness—!"</p> +<p>So soon had the shaft gone home! Her woman's jealousy had +offered a point unexpectedly weak. Calhoun bowed, without a smile +upon his face.</p> +<p>"Mr. Pakenham, the British minister, is disposed to be friendly +to this same lady. Your husband and a certain officer of the +British Navy called upon this same lady last week in +Montreal—informally. It is sometimes unfortunate that plans +are divulged. To me it seemed only wise and fit that you should not +let any of these little personal matters make for us greater +complications in these perilous times. I think you understand me, +perhaps, Señora Yturrio?"</p> +<p>She gurgled low in her throat at this, any sort of sound, +meaning to remain ambiguous. But Calhoun was merciless.</p> +<p>"It is not within dignity, Señora, for me to make trouble +between a lady and her husband. But we must have friends with us +under our flag, or know that they are not our friends. You are +welcome in my house. Your husband is welcome in the house of our +republic. There are certain duties, even thus."</p> +<p>Only now and again she turned upon him the light of her splendid +eyes, searching him.</p> +<p>"If I should recall again, gently, my dear Señora, the +fact that your husband was with that particular woman—if I +should say, that Mexico has been found under the flag of England, +while supposed to be under <i>our</i> flag—if I should add +that one of the representatives of the Mexican legation had been +discovered in handing over to England certain secrets of this +country and of the Republic of Texas—why, then, what answer, +think you, Señora, Mexico would make to me?"</p> +<p>"But Señor Calhoun does not mean—does not dare to +say—"</p> +<p>"I do dare it; I do mean it! I can tell you all that Mexico +plans, and all that Texas plans. All the secrets are out; and since +we know them, we purpose immediate annexation of the Republic of +Texas! Though it means war, Texas shall be ours! This has been +forced upon us by the perfidy of other nations."</p> +<p>He looked her full in the eye, his own blue orbs alight with +resolution. She returned his gaze, fierce as a tigress. But at last +she spread out her deprecating hands.</p> +<p>"Señor," she said, "I am but a woman. I am in the +Señor Secretary's hands. I am even in his <i>hand</i>. What +can he wish?"</p> +<p>"In no unfair way, Señora, I beg you to understand, in no +improper way are you in our hands. But now let us endeavor to +discover some way in which some of these matters may be composed. +In such affairs, a small incident is sometimes magnified and taken +in connection with its possible consequences. You readily may see, +Señora, that did I personally seek the dismissal of your +husband, possibly even the recall of General Almonte, his chief, +that might be effected without difficulty."</p> +<p>"You seek war, Señor Secretary! My people say that your +armies are in Texas now, or will be."</p> +<p>"They are but very slightly in advance of the truth, +Señora," said Calhoun grimly. "For me, I do not believe in +war when war can be averted. But suppose it <i>could</i> be +averted? Suppose the Señora Yturrio herself <i>could</i> +avert it? Suppose the Señora could remain here still, in +this city which she so much admires? A lady of so distinguished +beauty and charm is valuable in our society here."</p> +<p>He bowed to her with stately grace. If there was mockery in his +tone, she could not catch it; nor did her searching eyes read his +meaning.</p> +<p>"See," he resumed, "alone, I am helpless in this situation. If +my government is offended, I can not stop the course of events. I +am not the Senate; I am simply an officer in our +administration—a very humble officer of his Excellency our +president, Mr. Tyler."</p> +<p>My lady broke out in a peal of low, rippling laughter, her white +teeth gleaming. It was, after all, somewhat difficult to trifle +with one who had been trained in intrigue all her life.</p> +<p>Calhoun laughed now in his own quiet way. "We shall do better if +we deal entirely frankly, Señora," said he. "Let us then +waste no time. Frankly, then, it would seem that, now the Baroness +von Ritz is off the scene, the Señora Yturrio would have all +the better title and opportunity in the affections of—well, +let us say, her own husband!"</p> +<p>She bent toward him now, her lips open in a slow smile, all her +subtle and dangerous beauty unmasking its batteries. The impression +she conveyed was that of warmth and of spotted shadows such as play +upon the leopard's back, such as mark the wing of the butterfly, +the petal of some flower born in a land of heat and passion. But +Calhoun regarded her calmly, his finger tips together, and spoke as +deliberately as though communing with himself. "It is but one +thing, one very little thing."</p> +<p>"And what is that, Señor?" she asked at length.</p> +<p>"The signature of Señor Van Zandt, attaché for +Texas, on this memorandum of treaty between the United States and +Texas."</p> +<p>Bowing, he presented to her the document to which he had earlier +directed my own attention. "We are well advised that Señor +Van Zandt is trafficking this very hour with England as against +us," he explained. "We ask the gracious assistance of Señora +Yturrio. In return we promise her—silence!"</p> +<p>"I can not—it is impossible!" she exclaimed, as she +glanced at the pages. "It is our ruin—!"</p> +<p>"No, Señora," said Calhoun sternly; "it means annexation +of Texas to the United States. But that is not your ruin. It is +your salvation. Your country well may doubt England, even England +bearing gifts!"</p> +<p>"I have no control over Señor Van Zandt—he is the +enemy of my country!" she began.</p> +<p>Calhoun now fixed upon her the full cold blue blaze of his +singularly penetrating eyes. "No, Señora," he said sternly; +"but you have access to my friend Mr. Polk, and Mr. Polk is the +friend of Mr. Jackson, and they two are friends of Mr. Van Zandt; +and Texas supposes that these two, although they do not represent +precisely my own beliefs in politics, are for the annexation of +Texas, not to England, but to America. There is good chance Mr. +Polk may be president. If you do not use your personal influence +with him, he may consult politics and not you, and so declare war +against Mexico. That war would cost you Texas, and much more as +well. Now, to avert that war, do you not think that perhaps you can +ask Mr. Polk to say to Mr. Van Zandt that his signature on this +little treaty would end all such questions simply, immediately, and +to the best benefit of Mexico, Texas and the United States? +Treason? Why, Señora, 'twould be preventing treason!"</p> +<p>Her face was half hidden by her fan, and her eyes, covered by +their deep lids, gave no sign of her thoughts. The same cold voice +went on:</p> +<p>"You might, for instance, tell Mr. Polk, which is to say Mr. Van +Zandt, that if his name goes on this little treaty for Texas, +nothing will be said to Texas regarding his proposal to give Texas +over to England. It might not be safe for that little fact +generally to be known in Texas as it is known to me. We will keep +it secret. You might ask Mr. Van Zandt if he would value a seat in +the Senate of these United States, rather than a lynching rope! So +much do I value your honorable acquaintance with Mr. Polk and with +Mr. Van Zandt, my dear lady, that I do not go to the latter and +<i>demand</i> his signature in the name of his republic—no, I +merely suggest to you that did <i>you</i> take this little treaty +for a day, and presently return it to me with his signature +attached, I should feel so deeply gratified that I should not ask +you by what means you had attained this most desirable result! And +I should hope that if you could not win back the affections of a +certain gentleman, at least you might win your own evening of the +scales with him."</p> +<p>Her face colored darkly. In a flash she saw the covert allusion +to the faithless Pakenham. Here was the chance to cut him to the +soul. <i>She could cost England Texas!</i> Revenge made its swift +appeal to her savage heart. Revenge and jealousy, handled coolly, +mercilessly as weapons—those cost England Texas!</p> +<p>She sat, her fan tight at her white teeth. "It would be death to +me if it were known," she said. But still she pondered, her eye +alight with somber fire, her dark cheek red in a woman's anger.</p> +<p>"But it never will be known, my dear lady. These things, +however, must be concluded swiftly. We have not time to wait. Let +us not argue over the unhappy business. Let me think of Mexico as +our sister republic and our friend!"</p> +<p>"And suppose I shall not do this that you ask, +Señor?"</p> +<p>"That, my dear lady, <i>I do not suppose!</i>"</p> +<p>"You threaten, Señor Secretary?"</p> +<p>"On the contrary, I implore! I ask you not to be treasonable to +any, but to be our ally, our friend, in what in my soul I believe a +great good for the peoples of the world. Without us, Texas will be +the prey of England. With us, she will be working out her destiny. +In our graveyard of state there are many secrets of which the +public never knows. Here shall be one, though your heart shall +exult in its possession. Dear lady, may we not conspire +together—for the ultimate good of three republics, making of +them two noble ones, later to dwell in amity? Shall we not hope to +see all this continent swept free of monarchy, held <i>free</i>, +for the peoples of the world?"</p> +<p>For an instant, no more, she sat and pondered. Suddenly she +bestowed upon him a smile whose brilliance might have turned the +head of another man. Rising, she swept him a curtsey whose grace I +have not seen surpassed.</p> +<p>In return, Mr. Calhoun bowed to her with dignity and ease, and, +lifting her hand, pressed it to his lips. Then, offering her an +arm, he led her to his carriage. I could scarce believe my eyes and +ears that so much, and of so much importance, had thus so easily +been accomplished, where all had seemed so near to the +impossible.</p> +<p>When last I saw my chief that day he was sunk in his chair, +white to the lips, his long hands trembling, fatigue written all +over his face and form; but a smile still was on his grim mouth. +"Nicholas," said he, "had I fewer politicians and more women behind +me, we should have Texas to the Rio Grande, and Oregon up to +Russia, and all without a war!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<h3>BUT YET A WOMAN</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Woman turns every man the wrong side out,<br /> +And never gives to truth and virtue that<br /> +Which simpleness and merit purchaseth.<br /> +<span style= +"margin-left: 11.5em;">—<i>Shakespeare</i>.</span></p> +</div> +<p>My chief played his game of chess coldly, methodically, and with +skill; yet a game of chess is not always of interest to the +spectator who does not know every move. Least of all does it +interest one who feels himself but a pawn piece on the board and +part of a plan in whose direction he has nothing to say. In truth, +I was weary. Not even the contemplation of the hazardous journey to +Oregon served to stir me. I traveled wearily again and again my +circle of personal despair.</p> +<p>On the day following my last interview with Mr. Calhoun, I had +agreed to take my old friend Doctor von Rittenhofen upon a short +journey among the points of interest of our city, in order to +acquaint him somewhat with our governmental machinery and to put +him in touch with some of the sources of information to which he +would need to refer in the work upon which he was now engaged. We +had spent a couple of hours together, and were passing across to +the capitol, with the intent of looking in upon the deliberations +of the houses of Congress, when all at once, as we crossed the +corridor, I felt him touch my arm.</p> +<p>"Did you see that young lady?" he asked of me. "She looked at +you, yess?"</p> +<p>I was in the act of turning, even as he spoke. Certainly had I +been alone I would have seen Elisabeth, would have known that she +was there.</p> +<p>It was Elisabeth, alone, and hurrying away! Already she was +approaching the first stair. In a moment she would be gone. I +sprang after her by instinct, without plan, clear in my mind only +that she was going, and with her all the light of the world; that +she was going, and that she was beautiful, adorable; that she was +going, and that she was Elisabeth!</p> +<p>As I took a few rapid steps toward her, I had full opportunity +to see that no grief had preyed upon her comeliness, nor had +concealment fed upon her damask cheek. Almost with some resentment +I saw that she had never seemed more beautiful than on this +morning. The costume of those days was trying to any but a +beautiful woman; yet Elisabeth had a way of avoiding extremes which +did not appeal to her individual taste. Her frock now was all in +pink, as became the gentle spring, and the bunch of silvery ribbons +which fluttered at her belt had quite the agreeing shade to finish +in perfection the cool, sweet picture that she made. Her sleeves +were puffed widely, and for the lower arm were opened just +sufficiently. She carried a small white parasol, with pinked edges, +and her silken mitts, light and dainty, matched the clear whiteness +of her arms. Her face, turned away from me, was shaded by a wide +round bonnet, not quite so painfully plain as the scooplike affair +of the time, but with a drooping brim from which depended a slight +frilling of sheer lace. Her smooth brown hair was drawn primly down +across her ears, as was the fashion of the day, and from the masses +piled under the bonnet brim there fell down a curl, round as though +made that moment, and not yet limp from the damp heat of +Washington. Fresh and dainty and restful as a picture done on +Dresden, yet strong, fresh, fully competent, Elisabeth walked as +having full right in the world and accepting as her due such +admiration as might be offered. If she had ever known a care, she +did not show it; and, I say, this made me feel resentment. It was +her proper business to appear miserable.</p> +<p>If she indeed resembled a rare piece of flawless Dresden on this +morning, she was as cold, her features were as unmarked by any +human pity. Ah! so different an Elisabeth, this, from the one I had +last seen at the East Room, with throat fluttering and cheeks far +warmer than this cool rose pink. But, changed or not, the full +sight of her came as the sudden influence of some powerful drug, +blotting out consciousness of other things. I could no more have +refrained from approaching her than I could have cast away my own +natural self and form. Just as she reached the top of the broad +marble stairs, I spoke.</p> +<p>"Elisabeth!"</p> +<p>Seeing that there was no escape, she paused now and turned +toward me. I have never seen a glance like hers. Say not there is +no language of the eyes, no speech in the composure of the +features. Yet such is the Sphinx power given to woman, that now I +saw, as though it were a thing tangible, a veil drawn across her +eyes, across her face, between her soul and mine.</p> +<p>Elisabeth drew herself up straight, her chin high, her eyes +level, her lips just parted for a faint salutation in the +conventions of the morning.</p> +<p>"How do you do?" she remarked. Her voice was all cool white +enamel. Then that veil dropped down between us.</p> +<p>She was there somewhere, but I could not see her clearly now. It +was not her voice. I took her hand, yes; but it had now none of +answering clasp. The flush was on her cheek no more. Cool, pale, +sweet, all white now, armed cap-a-pie with indifference, she looked +at me as formally as though I were a remote acquaintance. Then she +would have passed.</p> +<p>"Elisabeth," I began; "I am just back. I have not had +time—I have had no leave from you to come to see you—to +ask you—to explain—"</p> +<p>"Explain?" she said evenly.</p> +<p>"But surely you can not believe that I—"</p> +<p>"I only believe what seems credible, Mr. Trist."</p> +<p>"But you promised—that very morning you agreed—Were +you out of your mind, that—"</p> +<p>"I was out of my mind that morning—but not that +evening."</p> +<p>Now she was <i>grande demoiselle</i>, patrician, superior. +Suddenly I became conscious of the dullness of my own garb. I cast +a quick glance over my figure, to see whether it had not +shrunken.</p> +<p>"But that is not it, Elisabeth—a girl may not allow a man +so much as you promised me, and then forget that promise in a day. +It <i>was</i> a promise between us. <i>You</i> agreed that I should +come; I did come. You had given your word. I say, was that the way +to treat me, coming as I did?"</p> +<p>"I found it possible," said she. "But, if you please, I must go. +I beg your pardon, but my Aunt Betty is waiting with the +carriage."</p> +<p>"Why, damn Aunt Betty!" I exclaimed. "You shall not go! See, +look here!"</p> +<p>I pulled from my pocket the little ring which I had had with me +that night when I drove out to Elmhurst in my carriage, the one +with the single gem which I had obtained hurriedly that afternoon, +having never before that day had the right to do so. In another +pocket I found the plain gold one which should have gone with the +gem ring that same evening. My hand trembled as I held these out to +her.</p> +<p>"I prove to you what I meant. Here! I had no time! Why, +Elisabeth, I was hurrying—I was mad!—I had a right to +offer you these things. I have still the right to ask you why you +did not take them? Will you not take them now?"</p> +<p>She put my hand away from her gently. "Keep them," she said, +"for the owner of that other wedding gift—the one which I +received."</p> +<p>Now I broke out. "Good God! How can I be held to blame for the +act of a drunken friend? You know Jack Dandridge as well as I do +myself. I cautioned him—I was not responsible for his +condition."</p> +<p>"It was not that decided me."</p> +<p>"You could not believe it was <i>I</i> who sent you that +accursed shoe which belonged to another woman."</p> +<p>"He said it came from you. Where did <i>you</i> get it, +then?"</p> +<p>Now, as readily may be seen, I was obliged again to hesitate. +There were good reasons to keep my lips sealed. I flushed. The red +of confusion which came to my cheek was matched by that of +indignation in her own. I could not tell her, and she could not +understand, that my work for Mr. Calhoun with that other woman was +work for America, and so as sacred and as secret as my own love for +her. Innocent, I still seemed guilty.</p> +<p>"So, then, you do not say? I do not ask you."</p> +<p>"I do not deny it."</p> +<p>"You do not care to tell me where you got it."</p> +<p>"No," said I; "I will not tell you where I got it."</p> +<p>"Why?"</p> +<p>"Because that would involve another woman."</p> +<p>"<i>Involve another woman?</i> Do you think, then, that on this +one day of her life, a girl likes to think of her—her +lover—as involved with any other woman? Ah, you made me begin +to think. I could not help the chill that came on my heart. Marry +you?—I could not! I never could, now."</p> +<p>"Yet you had decided—you had told me—it was +agreed—"</p> +<p>"I had decided on facts as I thought they were. Other facts came +before you arrived. Sir, you do me a very great compliment."</p> +<p>"But you loved me once," I said banally.</p> +<p>"I do not consider it fair to mention that now."</p> +<p>"I never loved that other woman. I had never seen her more than +once. You do not know her."</p> +<p>"Ah, is that it? Perhaps I could tell you something of one +Helena von Ritz. Is it not so?"</p> +<p>"Yes, that was the property of Helena von Ritz," I told her, +looking her fairly in the eye.</p> +<p>"Kind of you, indeed, to involve me, as you say, with a lady of +her precedents!"</p> +<p>Now her color was up full, and her words came crisply. Had I had +adequate knowledge of women, I could have urged her on then, and +brought on a full-fledged quarrel. Strategically, that must have +been a far happier condition than mere indifference on her part. +But I did not know; and my accursed love of fairness blinded +me.</p> +<p>"I hardly think any one is quite just to that lady," said I +slowly.</p> +<p>"Except Mr. Nicholas Trist! A beautiful and accomplished lady, I +doubt not, in his mind."</p> +<p>"Yes, all of that, I doubt not."</p> +<p>"And quite kind with her little gifts."</p> +<p>"Elisabeth, I can not well explain all that to you. I can not, +on my honor."</p> +<p>"Do not!" she cried, putting out her hand as though in alarm. +"Do not invoke your honor!" She looked at me again. I have never +seen a look like hers. She had been calm, cold, and again +indignant, all in a moment's time. That expression which now showed +on her face was one yet worse for me.</p> +<p>Still I would not accept my dismissal, but went on stubbornly: +"But may I not see your father and have my chance again? I <i>can +not</i> let it go this way. It is the ruin of my life."</p> +<p>But now she was advancing, dropping down a step at a time, and +her face was turned straight ahead. The pink of her gown was +matched by the pink of her cheeks. I saw the little working of the +white throat wherein some sobs seemed stifling. And so she went +away and left me.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER +XXIII</h2> +<h3>SUCCESS IN SILK</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>As things are, I think women are generally better +creatures<br /> +than men.—<i>S.T. Coleridge</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>It was a part of my duties, when in Washington, to assist my +chief in his personal and official correspondence, which +necessarily was very heavy. This work we customarily began about +nine of the morning. On the following day I was on hand earlier +than usual. I was done with Washington now, done with everything, +eager only to be off on the far trails once more. But I almost +forgot my own griefs when I saw my chief. When I found him, already +astir in his office, his face was strangely wan and thin, his hands +bloodless. Over him hung an air of utter weariness; yet, shame to +my own despair, energy showed in all his actions. Resolution was +written on his face. He greeted me with a smile which strangely +lighted his grim face.</p> +<p>"We have good news of some kind this morning, sir?" I +inquired.</p> +<p>In answer, he motioned me to a document which lay open upon his +table. It was familiar enough to me. I glanced at the bottom. There +were <i>two</i> signatures!</p> +<p>"Texas agrees!" I exclaimed. "<i>The Doña Lucrezia has +won Van Zandt's signature!</i>"</p> +<p>I looked at him. His own eyes were swimming wet! This, then, was +that man of whom it is only remembered that he was a pro-slavery +champion.</p> +<p>"It will be a great country," said he at last. "This once done, +I shall feel that, after all, I have not lived wholly in vain."</p> +<p>"But the difficulties! Suppose Van Zandt proves traitorous to +us?"</p> +<p>"He dare not. Texas may know that he bargained with England, but +he dare not traffic with Mexico and let <i>that</i> be known. He +would not live a day."</p> +<p>"But perhaps the Doña Lucrezia herself might some time +prove fickle."</p> +<p>"<i>She</i> dare not! She never will. She will enjoy in secret +her revenge on perfidious Albion, which is to say, perfidious +Pakenham. Her nature is absolutely different from that of the +Baroness von Ritz. The Doña Lucrezia dreams of the torch of +love, not the torch of principle!"</p> +<p>"The public might not approve, Mr. Calhoun; but at least there +<i>were</i> advantages in this sort of aids!"</p> +<p>"We are obliged to find such help as we can. The public is not +always able to tell which was plot and which counterplot in the +accomplishment of some intricate things. The result excuses all. It +was written that Texas should come to this country. Now for Oregon! +It grows, this idea of democracy!"</p> +<p>"At least, sir, you will have done your part. Only +now—"</p> +<p>"Only what, then?"</p> +<p>"We are certain to encounter opposition. The Senate may not +ratify this Texas treaty."</p> +<p>"The Senate will <i>not</i> ratify," said he. "I am perfectly +well advised of how the vote will be when this treaty comes before +it for ratification. We will be beaten, two to one!"</p> +<p>"Then, does that not end it?"</p> +<p>"End it? No! There are always other ways. If the people of this +country wish Texas to belong to our flag, she will so belong. It is +as good as done to-day. Never look at the obstacles; look at the +goal! It was this intrigue of Van Zandt's which stood in our way. +By playing one intrigue against another, we have won thus far. We +must go on winning!"</p> +<p>He paced up and down the room, one hand smiting the other. "Let +England whistle now!" he exclaimed exultantly. "We shall annex +Texas, in full view, indeed, of all possible consequences. There +can be no consequences, for England has no excuse left for war over +Texas. I only wish the situation were as clear for Oregon."</p> +<p>"There'll be bad news for our friend Señor Yturrio when +he gets back to his own legation!" I ventured.</p> +<p>"Let him then face that day when Mexico shall see fit to look to +us for aid and counsel. We will build a mighty country <i>here</i>, +on <i>this</i> continent!"</p> +<p>"Mr. Pakenham is accredited to have certain influence in our +Senate."</p> +<p>"Yes. We have his influence exactly weighed. Yet I rejoice in at +least one thing—one of his best allies is not here."</p> +<p>"You mean Señor Yturrio?"</p> +<p>"I mean the Baroness von Ritz. And now comes on that next +nominating convention, at Baltimore."</p> +<p>"What will it do?" I hesitated.</p> +<p>"God knows. For me, I have no party. I am alone! I have but few +friends in all the world"—he smiled now—"you, my boy, +as I said, and Doctor Ward and a few women, all of whom hate each +other."</p> +<p>I remained silent at this shot, which came home to me; but he +smiled, still grimly, shaking his head. "Rustle of silk, my boy, +rustle of silk—it is over all our maps. But we shall make +these maps! Time shall bear me witness."</p> +<p>"Then I may start soon for Oregon?" I demanded.</p> +<p>"You shall start to-morrow," he answered.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<h3>THE WHOA-HAW TRAIL</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>There are no pleasures where women are not.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">—Marie de Romba.</span></p> +</div> +<p>How shall I tell of those stirring times in such way that +readers who live in later and different days may catch in full +their flavor? How shall I write now so that at a later time men may +read of the way America was taken, may see what America then was +and now is, and what yet, please God! it may be? How shall be set +down that keen zest of a nation's youth, full of ambition and +daring, full of contempt for obstacles, full of a vast and splendid +hope? How shall be made plain also that other and stronger thing +which so many of those days have mentioned to me, half in +reticence—that feeling that, after all, this fever of the +blood, this imperious insistence upon new lands, had under it +something more than human selfishness?</p> +<p>I say I wish that some tongue or brush or pen might tell the +story of our people at that time. Once I saw it in part told in +color and line, in a painting done by a master hand, almost one fit +to record the spirit of that day, although it wrought in this +instance with another and yet earlier time. In this old canvas, +depicting an early Teutonic tribal wandering, appeared some scores +of human figures, men and women half savage in their look, clad in +skins, with fillets of hide for head covering; men whose beards +were strong and large, whose limbs, wrapped loose in hides, were +strong and large; women, strong and large, who bore burdens on +their backs. Yet in the faces of all these there shone, not +savagery alone, but intelligence and resolution. With them were +flocks and herds and beasts of burden and carts of rude build; and +beside these traveled children. There were young and old men and +women, and some were gaunt and weary, but most were bold and +strong. There were weapons for all, and rude implements, as well, +of industry. In the faces of all there was visible the spirit of +their yellow-bearded leader, who made the center of the picture's +foreground.</p> +<p>I saw the soul of that canvas—a splendid +resolution—a look forward, a purpose, an aim to be attained +at no counting of cost. I say, as I gazed at that canvas, I saw in +it the columns of my own people moving westward across the Land, +fierce-eyed, fearless, doubting nothing, fearing nothing. That was +the genius of America when I myself was young. I believe it still +to be the spirit of a triumphant democracy, knowing its own, taking +its own, holding its own. They travel yet, the dauntless figures of +that earlier day. Let them not despair. No imaginary line will ever +hold them back, no mandate of any monarch ever can restrain +them.</p> +<p>In our own caravans, now pressing on for the general movement +west of the Missouri, there was material for a hundred canvases +like yonder one, and yet more vast. The world of our great western +country was then still before us. A stern and warlike people was +resolved to hold it and increase it. Of these west-bound I now was +one. I felt the joy of that thought. I was going West!</p> +<p>At this time, the new railroad from Baltimore extended no +farther westward than Cumberland, yet it served to carry one well +toward the Ohio River at Pittsburg; whence, down the Ohio and up +the Missouri to Leavenworth, my journey was to be made by +steamboats. In this prosaic travel, the days passed monotonously; +but at length I found myself upon that frontier which then marked +the western edge of our accepted domain, and the eastern extremity +of the Oregon Trail.</p> +<p>If I can not bring to the mind of one living to-day the full +picture of those days when this country was not yet all ours, and +can not restore to the comprehension of those who never were +concerned with that life the picture of that great highway, +greatest path of all the world, which led across our unsettled +countries, that ancient trail at least may be a memory. It is not +even yet wiped from the surface of the earth. It still remains in +part, marked now no longer by the rotting head-boards of its +graves, by the bones of the perished ones which once traveled it; +but now by its ribands cut through the turf, and lined by nodding +prairie flowers.</p> +<p>The old trail to Oregon was laid out by no government, arranged +by no engineer, planned by no surveyor, supported by no +appropriation. It sprang, a road already created, from the earth +itself, covering two thousand miles of our country. Why? Because +there was need for that country to be covered by such a trail at +such a time. Because we needed Oregon. Because a stalwart and +clear-eyed democracy needs America and will have it. That was the +trail over which our people outran their leaders. If our leaders +trifle again, once again we shall outrun them.</p> +<p>There were at this date but four places of human residence in +all the two thousand miles of this trail, yet recent as had been +the first hoofs and wheels to mark it, it was even then a distinct +and unmistakable path. The earth has never had nor again can have +its like. If it was a path of destiny, if it was a road of hope and +confidence, so was it a road of misery and suffering and sacrifice; +for thus has the democracy always gained its difficult and lasting +victories. I think that it was there, somewhere, on the old road to +Oregon, sometime in the silent watches of the prairie or the +mountain night, that there was fought out the battle of the Old +World and the New, the battle between oppressors and those who +declared they no longer would be oppressed.</p> +<p>Providentially for us, an ignorance equal to that of our leaders +existed in Great Britain. For us who waited on the banks of the +Missouri, all this ignorance was matter of indifference. Our men +got their beliefs from no leaders, political or editorial, at home +or abroad. They waited only for the grass to come.</p> +<p>Now at last the grass did begin to grow upon the eastern edge of +the great Plains; and so I saw begin that vast and splendid +movement across our continent which in comparison dwarfs all the +great people movements of the earth. Xenophon's March of the Ten +Thousand pales beside this of ten thousand thousands. The movements +of the Goths and Huns, the Vandals, the Cimri—in a way, they +had a like significance with this, but in results those migrations +did far less in the history of the world; did less to prove the +purpose of the world.</p> +<p>I watched the forming of our caravan, and I saw again that +canvas which I have mentioned, that picture of the savages who +traveled a thousand years before Christ was born. Our picture was +the vaster, the more splendid, the more enduring. Here were savages +born of gentle folk in part, who never yet had known repulse. They +marched with flocks and herds and implements of husbandry. In their +faces shone a light not less fierce than that which animated the +dwellers of the old Teutonic forests, but a light clearer and more +intelligent. Here was the determined spirit of progress, here was +the agreed insistence upon an <i>equal opportunity!</i> Ah! it was +a great and splendid canvas which might have been painted there on +our Plains—the caravans west-bound with the greening grass of +spring—that hegira of Americans whose unheard command was but +the voice of democracy itself.</p> +<p>We carried with us all the elements of society, as has the +Anglo-Saxon ever. Did any man offend against the unwritten creed of +fair play, did he shirk duty when that meant danger to the common +good, then he was brought before a council of our leaders, men of +wisdom and fairness, chosen by the vote of all; and so he was +judged and he was punished. At that time there was not west of the +Missouri River any one who could administer an oath, who could +execute a legal document, or perpetuate any legal testimony; yet +with us the law marched <i>pari passu</i> across the land. We had +leaders chosen because they were fit to lead, and leaders who felt +full sense of responsibility to those who chose them. We had with +us great wealth in flocks and herds—five thousand head of +cattle went West with our caravan, hundreds of horses; yet each +knew his own and asked not that of his neighbor. With us there were +women and little children and the gray-haired elders bent with +years. Along our road we left graves here and there, for death went +with us. In our train also were many births, life coming to renew +the cycle. At times, too, there were rejoicings of the newly wed in +our train. Our young couples found society awheel valid as that +abiding under permanent roof.</p> +<p>At the head of our column, we bore the flag of our Republic. On +our flanks were skirmishers, like those guarding the flanks of an +army. It <i>was</i> an army—an army of our people. With us +marched women. With us marched home. <i>That</i> was the difference +between our cavalcade and that slower and more selfish one, made up +of men alone, which that same year was faring westward along the +upper reaches of the Canadian Plains. That was why we won. It was +because women and plows were with us.</p> +<p>Our great column, made up of more than one hundred wagons, was +divided into platoons of four, each platoon leading for a day, then +falling behind to take the bitter dust of those in advance. At noon +we parted our wagons in platoons, and at night we drew them +invariably into a great barricade, circular in form, the leading +wagon marking out the circle, the others dropping in behind, the +tongue of each against the tail-gate of the wagon ahead, and the +last wagon closing up the gap. Our circle completed, the animals +were unyoked and the tongues were chained fast to the wagons next +ahead; so that each night we had a sturdy barricade, incapable of +being stampeded by savages, whom more than once we fought and +defeated. Each night we set out a guard, our men taking turns, and +the night watches in turn rotating, so that each man got his share +of the entire night during the progress of his journey. Each morn +we rose to the notes of a bugle, and each day we marched in order, +under command, under a certain schedule. Loosely connected, +independent, individual, none the less already we were establishing +a government. We took the American Republic with us across the +Plains!</p> +<p>This manner of travel offered much monotony, yet it had its +little pleasures. For my own part, my early experience in Western +matters placed me in charge of our band of hunters, whose duty it +was to ride at the flanks of our caravan each day and to kill +sufficient buffalo for meat. This work of the chase gave us more to +do than was left for those who plodded along or rode bent over upon +the wagon seats; yet even for these there was some relaxation. At +night we met in little social circles around the camp-fires. Young +folk made love; old folk made plans here as they had at home. A +church marched with us as well as the law and courts; and, what was +more, the schools went also; for by the faint flicker of the +firelight many parents taught their children each day as they moved +westward to their new homes. History shows these children were well +taught. There were persons of education and culture with us.</p> +<p>Music we had, and of a night time, even while the coyotes were +calling and the wind whispering in the short grasses of the Plains, +violin and flute would sometimes blend their voices, and I have +thus heard songs which I would not exchange in memory for others +which I have heard in surroundings far more ambitious. Sometimes +dances were held on the greensward of our camps. Regularly the +Sabbath day was observed by at least the most part of our pilgrims. +Upon all our party there seemed to sit an air of content and +certitude. Of all our wagons, I presume one was of greatest value. +It was filled with earth to the brim, and in it were fruit trees +planted, and shrubs; and its owner carried seeds of garden plants. +Without doubt, it was our mission and our intent to take with us +such civilization as we had left behind.</p> +<p>So we marched, mingled, and, as some might have said, motley in +our personnel—sons of some of the best families in the South, +men from the Carolinas and Virginia, Georgia and Louisiana, men +from Pennsylvania and Ohio; Roundhead and Cavalier, Easterner and +Westerner, Germans, Yankees, Scotch-Irish—all Americans. We +marched, I say, under a form of government; yet each took his +original marching orders from his own soul. We marched across an +America not yet won. Below us lay the Spanish +civilization—Mexico, possibly soon to be led by Britain, as +some thought. North of us was Canada, now fully alarmed and surely +led by Britain. West of us, all around us, lay the Indian tribes. +Behind, never again to be seen by most of us who marched, lay the +homes of an earlier generation. But we marched, each obeying the +orders of his own soul. Some day the song of this may be sung; some +day, perhaps, its canvas may be painted.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +<h3>OREGON</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>The spell and the light of each path we pursue—<br /> +If woman be there, there is happiness too.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 21em;">—Moore.</span></p> +</div> +<p>Twenty miles a day, week in and week out, we edged westward up +the Platte, in heat and dust part of the time, often plagued at +night by clouds of mosquitoes. Our men endured the penalties of the +journey without comment. I do not recall that I ever heard even the +weakest woman complain. Thus at last we reached the South Pass of +the Rockies, not yet half done our journey, and entered upon that +portion of the trail west of the Rockies, which had still two +mountain ranges to cross, and which was even more apt to be +infested by the hostile Indians. Even when we reached the ragged +trading post, Fort Hall, we had still more than six hundred miles +to go.</p> +<p>By this time our forces had wasted as though under assault of +arms. Far back on the trail, many had been forced to leave prized +belongings, relics, heirlooms, implements, machinery, all +conveniences. The finest of mahogany blistered in the sun, +abandoned and unheeded. Our trail might have been followed by +discarded implements of agriculture, and by whitened bones as well. +Our footsore teams, gaunt and weakened, began to faint and fall. +Horses and oxen died in the harness or under the yoke, and were +perforce abandoned where they fell. Each pound of superfluous +weight was cast away as our motive power thus lessened. Wagons were +abandoned, goods were packed on horses, oxen and cows. We put cows +into the yoke now, and used women instead of men on the drivers' +seats, and boys who started riding finished afoot. Our herds were +sadly lessened by theft of the Indians, by death, by strayings +which our guards had not time to follow up. If a wagon lagged it +was sawed shorter to lessen its weight Sometimes the hind wheels +were abandoned, and the reduced personal belongings were packed on +the cart thus made, which nevertheless traveled on, painfully, +slowly, yet always going ahead. In the deserts beyond Fort Hall, +wagons disintegrated by the heat. Wheels would fall apart, +couplings break under the straining teams. Still more here was the +trail lined with boxes, vehicles, furniture, all the flotsam and +jetsam of the long, long Oregon Trail.</p> +<p>The grass was burned to its roots, the streams were reduced to +ribbons, the mirages of the desert mocked us desperately. Rain came +seldom now, and the sage-brush of the desert was white with bitter +dust, which in vast clouds rose sometimes in the wind to make our +journey the harder. In autumn, as we approached the second range of +mountains, we could see the taller peaks whitened with snow. Our +leaders looked anxiously ahead, dreading the storms which must ere +long overtake us. Still, gaunt now and haggard, weakened in body +but not in soul, we pressed on across. That was the way to +Oregon.</p> +<p>Gaunt and brown and savage, hungry and grim, ragged, hatless, +shoeless, our cavalcade closed up and came on, and so at last came +through. Ere autumn had yellowed all the foliage back east in +gentler climes, we crossed the shoulders of the Blue Mountains and +came into the Valley of the Walla Walla; and so passed thence down +the Columbia to the Valley of the Willamette, three hundred miles +yet farther, where there were then some slight centers of our +civilization which had gone forward the year before.</p> +<p>Here were some few Americans. At Champoeg, at the little +American missions, at Oregon City, and other scattered points, we +met them, we hailed and were hailed by them. They were Americans. +Women and plows were with them. There were churches and schools +already started, and a beginning had been made in government. Faces +and hands and ways and customs and laws of our own people greeted +us. Yes. It was America.</p> +<p>Messengers spread abroad the news of the arrival of our wagon +train. Messengers, too, came down from the Hudson Bay posts to scan +our equipment and estimate our numbers. There was no word +obtainable from these of any Canadian column of occupation to the +northward which had crossed at the head of the Peace River or the +Saskatchewan, or which lay ready at the head waters of the Fraser +or the Columbia to come down to the lower settlements for the +purpose of bringing to an issue, or making more difficult, this +question of the joint occupancy of Oregon. As a matter of fact, +ultimately we won that transcontinental race so decidedly that +there never was admitted to have been a second.</p> +<p>As for our people, they knew how neither to hesitate nor to +dread. They unhooked their oxen from the wagons and put them to the +plows. The fruit trees, which had crossed three ranges of mountains +and two thousand miles of unsettled country, now found new rooting. +Streams which had borne no fruit save that of the beaver traps now +were made to give tribute to little fields and gardens, or asked to +transport wheat instead of furs. The forests which had blocked our +way were now made into roofs and walls and fences. Whatever the +future might bring, those who had come so far and dared so much +feared that future no more than they had feared the troubles which +in detail they had overcome in their vast pilgrimage.</p> +<p>So we took Oregon by the only law of right. Our broken and +weakened cavalcade asked renewal from the soil itself. We ruffled +no drum, fluttered no flag, to take possession of the land. But the +canvas covers of our wagons gave way to permanent roofs. Where we +had known a hundred camp-fires, now we lighted the fires of many +hundred homes.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +<h3>THE DEBATED COUNTRY</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>The world was sad, the garden was a wild!<br /> +The man, the hermit, sighed—till woman smiled!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 19em;">—<i>Campbell</i>.</span></p> +</div> +<p>Our army of peaceful occupation scattered along the more fertile +parts of the land, principally among the valleys. Of course, it +should not be forgotten that what was then called Oregon meant all +of what now is embraced in Oregon, Washington and Idaho, with part +of Wyoming as well. It extended south to the Mexican possessions of +California. How far north it was to run, it was my errand here to +learn.</p> +<p>To all apparent purposes, I simply was one of the new settlers +in Oregon, animated by like motives, possessed of little more +means, and disposed to adjust myself to existing circumstances, +much as did my fellows. The physical conditions of life in a +country abounding in wild game and fish, and where even careless +planting would yield abundant crops, offered no very difficult task +to young men accustomed to shifting for themselves; so that I +looked forward to the winter with no dread.</p> +<p>I settled near the mouth of the Willamette River, near Oregon +City, and not far from where the city of Portland later was begun; +and builded for myself a little cabin of two rooms, with a +connecting roof. This I furnished, as did my neighbors their +similar abodes, with a table made of hewed puncheons, chairs sawed +from blocks, a bed framed from poles, on which lay a rude mattress +of husks and straw. My window-panes were made of oiled deer hide. +Thinking that perhaps I might need to plow in the coming season, I +made me a plow like those around me, which might have come from +Mexico or Egypt—a forked limb bound with rawhide. Wood and +hide, were, indeed, our only materials. If a wagon wheel showed +signs of disintegration, we lashed it together with rawhide. When +the settlers of the last year sought to carry wheat to market on +the Willamette barges, they did so in sacks made of the hides of +deer. Our clothing was of skins and furs.</p> +<p>From the Eastern States I scarcely could now hear in less than a +year, for another wagon train could not start west from the +Missouri until the following spring. We could only guess how events +were going forward in our diplomacy. We did not know, and would not +know for a year, the result of the Democratic convention at +Baltimore, of the preceding spring! We could only wonder who might +be the party nominees for the presidency. We had a national +government, but did not know what it was, or who administered it. +War might be declared, but we in Oregon would not be aware of it. +Again, war might break out in Oregon, and the government at +Washington could not know that fact.</p> +<p>The mild winter wore away, and I learned little. Spring came, +and still no word of any land expedition out of Canada. We and the +Hudson Bay folk still dwelt in peace. The flowers began to bloom in +the wild meads, and the horses fattened on their native pastures. +Wider and wider lay the areas of black overturned soil, as our busy +farmers kept on at their work. Wider grew the clearings in the +forest lands. Our fruit trees, which we had brought two thousand +miles in the nursery wagon, began to put out tender leafage. There +were eastern flowers—marigolds, hollyhocks, +mignonette—planted in the front yards of our little cabins. +Vines were trained over trellises here and there. Each flower was a +rivet, each vine a cord, which bound Oregon to our Republic.</p> +<p>Summer came on. The fields began to whiten with the ripening +grain. I grew uneasy, feeling myself only an idler in a land so +able to fend for itself. I now was much disposed to discuss means +of getting back over the long trail to the eastward, to carry the +news that Oregon was ours. I had, it must be confessed, nothing new +to suggest as to making it firmly and legally ours, beyond what had +already been suggested in the minds of our settlers themselves. It +was at this time that there occurred a startling and decisive +event.</p> +<p>I was on my way on a canoe voyage up the wide Columbia, not far +above the point where it receives its greatest lower tributary, the +Willamette, when all at once I heard the sound of a cannon shot. I +turned to see the cloud of blue smoke still hanging over the +surface of the water. Slowly there swung into view an ocean-going +vessel under steam and auxiliary canvas. She made a gallant +spectacle. But whose ship was she? I examined her colors anxiously +enough. I caught the import of her ensign. She flew the British +Union Jack!</p> +<p>England had won the race by sea!</p> +<p>Something in the ship's outline seemed to me familiar. I knew +the set of her short masts, the pitch of her smokestacks, the +number of her guns. Yes, she was the <i>Modesté</i> of the +English Navy—the same ship which more than a year before I +had seen at anchor off Montreal!</p> +<p>News travels fast in wild countries, and it took us little time +to learn the destination of the <i>Modesté</i>. She came to +anchor above Oregon City, and well below Fort Vancouver. At once, +of course, her officers made formal calls upon Doctor McLaughlin, +the factor at Fort Vancouver, and accepted head of the British +element thereabouts. Two weeks passed in rumors and counter rumors, +and a vastly dangerous tension existed in all the American +settlements, because word was spread that England had sent a ship +to oust us. Then came to myself and certain others at Oregon City +messengers from peace-loving Doctor McLaughlin, asking us to join +him in a little celebration in honor of the arrival of her +Majesty's vessel.</p> +<p>Here at last was news; but it was news not wholly to my liking +which I soon unearthed. The <i>Modesté</i> was but one ship +of fifteen! A fleet of fifteen vessels, four hundred guns, then lay +in Puget Sound. The watch-dogs of Great Britain were at our doors. +This question of monarchy and the Republic was not yet settled, +after all!</p> +<p>I pass the story of the banquet at Fort Vancouver, because it is +unpleasant to recite the difficulties of a kindly host who finds +himself with jarring elements at his board. Precisely this was the +situation of white-haired Doctor McLaughlin of Fort Vancouver. It +was an incongruous assembly in the first place. The officers of the +British Navy attended in the splendor of their uniforms, glittering +in braid and gold. Even Doctor McLaughlin made brave display, as +was his wont, in his regalia of dark blue cloth and shining +buttons—his noble features and long, snow-white hair making +him the most lordly figure of them all. As for us Americans, lean +and brown, with hands hardened by toil, our wardrobes scattered +over a thousand miles of trail, buckskin tunics made our coats, and +moccasins our boots. I have seen some noble gentlemen so clad in my +day.</p> +<p>We Americans were forced to listen to many toasts at that little +frontier banquet entirely to our disliking. We heard from Captain +Parke that "the Columbia belonged to Great Britain as much as the +Thames"; that Great Britain's guns "could blow all the Americans +off the map"; that her fleet at Puget Sound waited but for the +signal to "hoist the British flag over all the coast from Mexico to +Russia" Yet Doctor McLaughlin, kindly and gentle as always, better +advised than any one there on the intricacies of the situation now +in hand, only smiled and protested and explained.</p> +<p>For myself, I passed only as plain settler. No one knew my +errand in the country, and I took pains, though my blood boiled, as +did that of our other Americans present at that board, to keep a +silent tongue in my head. If this were joint occupancy, I for one +was ready to say it was time to make an end of it. But how might +that be done? At least the proceedings of the evening gave no +answer.</p> +<p>It was, as may be supposed, late in the night when our somewhat +discordant banqueting party broke up. We were all housed, as was +the hospitable fashion of the country, in the scattered log +buildings which nearly always hedge in a western fur-trading post. +The quarters assigned me lay across the open space, or what might +be called the parade ground of Fort Vancouver, flanked by Doctor +McLaughlin's four little cannon.</p> +<p>As I made my way home, stumbling among the stumps in the dark, I +passed many semi-drunken Indians and <i>voyageurs</i>, to whom +special liberty had been accorded in view of the occasion, all of +them now engaged in singing the praises of the "King George" men as +against the "Bostons." I talked now and again with some of our own +brown and silent border men, farmers from the Willamette, none of +them any too happy, all of them sullen and ready for trouble in any +form. We agreed among us that absolute quiet and freedom from any +expression of irritation was our safest plan. "Wait till next +fall's wagon trains come in!" That was the expression of our new +governor, Mr. Applegate; and I fancy it found an echo in the +opinions of most of the Americans. By snowfall, as we believed, the +balance of power would be all upon our side, and our swift-moving +rifles would outweigh all their anchored cannon.</p> +<p>I was almost at my cabin door at the edge of the forest frontage +at the rear of the old post, when I caught glimpse, in the dim +light, of a hurrying figure, which in some way seemed to be +different from the blanket-covered squaws who stalked here and +there about the post grounds. At first I thought she might be the +squaw of one of the employees of the company, who lived scattered +about, some of them now, by the advice of Doctor McLaughlin, +beginning to till little fields; but, as I have said, there was +something in the stature or carriage or garb of this woman which +caused me idly to follow her, at first with my eyes and then with +my footsteps.</p> +<p>She passed steadily on toward a long and low log cabin, located +a short distance beyond the quarters which had been assigned to me. +I saw her step up to the door and heard her knock; then there came +a flood of light—more light than was usual in the opening of +the door of a frontier cabin. This displayed the figure of the +night walker, showing her tall and gaunt and a little stooped; so +that, after all, I took her to be only one of our American frontier +women, being quite sure that she was not Indian or half-breed.</p> +<p>This emboldened me, on a mere chance—an act whose mental +origin I could not have traced—to step up to the door after +it had been closed, and myself to knock thereat. If it were a party +of Americans here, I wished to question them; if not, I intended to +make excuses by asking my way to my own quarters. It was my +business to learn the news of Oregon.</p> +<p>I heard women's voices within, and as I knocked the door opened +just a trifle on its chain. I saw appear at the crack the face of +the woman whom I had followed.</p> +<p>She was, as I had believed, old and wrinkled, and her face now, +seen close, was as mysterious, dark and inscrutable as that of any +Indian squaw. Her hair fell heavy and gray across her forehead, and +her eyes were small and dark as those of a native woman. Yet, as +she stood there with the light streaming upon her, I saw something +in her face which made me puzzle, ponder and start—and put my +foot within the crack of the door.</p> +<p>When she found she could not close the door, she called out in +some foreign tongue. I heard a voice answer. The blood tingled in +the roots of my hair!</p> +<p>"Threlka," I said quietly, "tell Madam the Baroness it is I, +Monsieur Trist, of Washington."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER +XXVII</h2> +<h3>IN THE CABIN OF MADAM</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Woman must not belong to herself; she is bound to alien<br /> +destinies.—<i>Friedrich von Schiller</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>With an exclamation of surprise the old woman departed from the +door. I heard the rustle of a footfall. I could have told in +advance what face would now appear outlined in the candle +glow—with eyes wide and startled, with lips half parted in +query. It was the face of Helena, Baroness von Ritz!</p> +<p>"<i>Eh bien!</i> madam, why do you bar me out?" I said, as +though we had parted but yesterday.</p> +<p>In her sheer astonishment, I presume, she let down the fastening +chain, and without her invitation I stepped within. I heard her +startled "<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" then her more deliberate exclamation of +emotion. "My God!" she said. She stood, with her hands caught at +her throat, staring at me. I laughed and held out a hand.</p> +<p>"Madam Baroness," I said, "how glad I am! Come, has not fate +been kind to us again?" I pushed shut the door behind me. Still +without a word, she stepped deeper into the room and stood looking +at me, her hands clasped now loosely and awkwardly, as though she +were a country girl surprised, and not the Baroness Helena von +Ritz, toast or talk of more than one capital of the world.</p> +<p>Yet she was the same. She seemed slightly thinner now, yet not +less beautiful. Her eyes were dark and brilliant as ever. The clear +features of her face were framed in the roll of her heavy locks, as +I had seen them last. Her garb, as usual, betokened luxury. She was +robed as though for some fête, all in white satin, and pale +blue fires of stones shone faintly at throat and wrist. Contrast +enough she made to me, clad in smoke-browned tunic of buck, with +the leggings and moccasins of a savage, my belt lacking but +prepared for weapons.</p> +<p>I had not time to puzzle over the question of her errand here, +why or whence she had come, or what she purposed doing. I was +occupied with the sudden surprises which her surroundings +offered.</p> +<p>"I see, Madam," said I, smiling, "that still I am only asleep +and dreaming. But how exquisite a dream, here in this wild country! +How unfit here am I, a savage, who introduce the one discordant +note into so sweet a dream!"</p> +<p>I gestured to my costume, gestured about me, as I took in the +details of the long room in which we stood. I swear it was the same +as that in which I had seen her at a similar hour in Montreal! It +was the same I had first seen in Washington!</p> +<p>Impossible? I am doubted? Ah, but do I not know? Did I not see? +Here were the pictures on the walls, the carved Cupids, the +candelabra with their prisms, the chairs, the couches! Beyond +yonder satin curtains rose the high canopy of the +embroidery-covered couch, its fringed drapery reaching almost to +the deep pile of the carpets. True, opportunity had not yet offered +for the full concealment of these rude walls; yet, as my senses +convinced me even against themselves, here were the apartments of +Helena von Ritz, furnished as she had told me they always were at +each place she saw fit to honor with her presence!</p> +<p>Yet not quite the same, it seemed to me. There were some little +things missing, just as there were some little things missing from +her appearance. For instance, these draperies at the right, which +formerly had cut off the Napoleon bed at its end of the room, now +were of blankets and not of silk. The bed itself was not piled deep +in down, but contained, as I fancied from my hurried glance, a thin +mattress, stuffed perhaps with straw. A roll of blankets lay across +its foot. As I gazed to the farther extremity of this side of the +long suite, I saw other evidences of change. It was indeed as +though Helena von Ritz, creature of luxury, woman of an old, +luxurious world, exotic of monarchical surroundings, had begun +insensibly to slip into the ways of the rude democracy of the far +frontiers.</p> +<p>I saw all this; but ere I had finished my first hurried glance I +had accepted her, as always one must, just as she was; had accepted +her surroundings, preposterously impossible as they all were from +any logical point of view, as fitting to herself and to her humor. +It was not for me to ask how or why she did these things. She had +done them; because, here they were; and here was she. We had found +England's woman on the Columbia!</p> +<p>"Yes," said she at length, slowly, "yes, I now believe it to be +fate."</p> +<p>She had not yet smiled. I took her hand and held it long. I felt +glad to see her, and to take her hand; it seemed pledge of +friendship; and as things now were shaping, I surely needed a +friend.</p> +<p>At last, her face flushing slightly, she disengaged her hand and +motioned me to a seat. But still we stood silent for a few moments. +"Have you <i>no</i> curiosity?" said she at length.</p> +<p>"I am too happy to have curiosity, my dear Madam."</p> +<p>"You will not even ask me why I am here?" she insisted.</p> +<p>"I know. I have known all along. You are in the pay of England. +When I missed you at Montreal, I knew you had sailed on the +<i>Modesté</i> for Oregon We knew all this, and planned for +it. I have come across by land to meet you. I have waited. I greet +you now!"</p> +<p>She looked me now clearly in the face. "I am not sure," said she +at length, slowly.</p> +<p>"Not sure of what, Madam? When you travel on England's warship," +I smiled, "you travel as the guest of England herself. If, then, +you are not for England, in God's name, <i>whose friend are +you?"</i></p> +<p>"Whose friend am I?" she answered slowly. "I say to you that I +do not know. Nor do I know who is my friend. A friend—what is +that? I never knew one!"</p> +<p>"Then be mine. Let me be your friend. You know my history. You +know about me and my work. I throw my secret into your hands. You +will not betray me? You warned me once, at Montreal. Will you not +shield me once again?"</p> +<p>She nodded, smiling now in an amused way. "Monsieur always takes +the most extraordinary times to visit me! Monsieur asks always the +most extraordinary things! Monsieur does always the most +extraordinary acts! He takes me to call upon a gentleman in a night +robe! He calls upon me himself, of an evening, in dinner dress of +hides and beads—"</p> +<p>"'Tis the best I have, Madam!" I colored, but her eye had not +criticism, though her speech had mockery.</p> +<p>"This is the costume of your American savages," she said. "I +find it among the most beautiful I have ever seen. Only a man can +wear it. You wear it like a man. I like you in it—I have +never liked you so well. Betray you, Monsieur? Why should I? How +could I?"</p> +<p>"That is true. Why should you? You are Helena von Ritz. One of +her breeding does not betray men or women. Neither does she make +any journeys of this sort without a purpose."</p> +<p>"I had a purpose, when I started. I changed it in mid-ocean. +Now, I was on my way to the Orient."</p> +<p>"And had forgotten your report to Mr. Pakenham?" I shook my +head. "Madam, you are the guest of England."</p> +<p>"I never denied that," she said. "I was that in Washington. I +was so in Montreal. But I have never given pledge which left me +other than free to go as I liked. I have studied, that is +true—but I have <i>not</i> reported."</p> +<p>"Have we not been fair with you, Baroness? Has my chief not +proved himself fair with you?"</p> +<p>"Yes," she nodded. "You have played the game fairly, that is +true."</p> +<p>"Then you will play it fair with us? Come, I say you have still +that chance to win the gratitude of a people."</p> +<p>"I begin to understand you better, you Americans," she said +irrelevantly, as was sometimes her fancy. "See my bed yonder. It is +that couch of husks of which Monsieur told me! Here is the cabin of +logs. There is the fireplace. Here is Helena von Ritz—even as +you told me once before she sometime might be. And here on my +wrists are the imprints of your fingers! What does it mean, +Monsieur? Am I not an apt student? See, I made up that little bed +with my own hands! I—Why, see, I can cook! What you once said +to me lingered in my mind. At first, it was matter only of +curiosity. Presently I began to see what was beneath your words, +what fullness of life there might be even in poverty. I said to +myself, 'My God! were it not, after all, enough, this, if one be +loved?' So then, in spite of myself, without planning, I say, I +began to understand. I have seen about me here these +savages—savages who have walked thousands of miles in a +pilgrimage—for what?"</p> +<p>"For what, Madam?" I demanded. "For what? For a cabin! For a bed +of husks! Was it then for the sake of ease, for the sake of +selfishness? Come, can you betray a people of whom you can say so +much?"</p> +<p>"Ah, now you would try to tempt me from a trust which has been +reposed in me!"</p> +<p>"Not in the least I would not have you break your word with Mr. +Pakenham; but I know you are here on the same errand as myself. You +are to learn facts and report them to Mr. Pakenham—as I am to +Mr. Calhoun."</p> +<p>"What does Monsieur suggest?" she asked me, with her little +smile.</p> +<p>"Nothing, except that you take back all the facts—and +allow them to mediate. Let them determine between the Old World and +this New one—your satin couch and this rude one you have +learned to make. Tell the truth only. Choose, then, Madam!"</p> +<p>"Nations do not ask the truth. They want only excuses."</p> +<p>"Quite true. And because of that, all the more rests with you. +If this situation goes on, war must come. It can not be averted, +unless it be by some agency quite outside of these two governments. +Here, then, Madam, is Helena von Ritz!"</p> +<p>"At least, there is time," she mused. "These ships are not here +for any immediate active war. Great Britain will make no move +until—"</p> +<p>"Until Madam the Baroness, special agent of England, most +trusted agent, makes her report to Mr. Pakenham! Until he reports +to his government, and until that government declares war! 'Twill +take a year or more. Meantime, you have not reported?"</p> +<p>"No, I am not yet ready."</p> +<p>"Certainly not. You are not yet possessed of your facts. You +have not yet seen this country. You do not yet know these +men—the same savages who once accounted for another Pakenham +at New Orleans—hardy as buffaloes, fierce as wolves. Wait and +see them come pouring across the mountains into Oregon. Then make +your report to this Pakenham. Ask him if England wishes to fight +our backwoodsmen once more!"</p> +<p>"You credit me with very much ability!" she smiled.</p> +<p>"With all ability. What conquests you have made in the diplomacy +of the Old World I do not know. You have known courts. I have known +none. Yet you are learning life. You are learning the meaning of +the only human idea of the world, that of a democracy of endeavor, +where all are equal in their chances and in their hopes. That, +Madam, is the only diplomacy which will live. If you have passed on +that torch of principle of which you spoke—if I can do as +much—then all will be well. We shall have served."</p> +<p>She dropped now into a chair near by a little table, where the +light of the tall candles, guttering in their enameled sconces, +fell full upon her face. She looked at me fixedly, her eyes dark +and mournful in spite of their eagerness.</p> +<p>"Ah, it is easy for you to speak, easy for you who have so rich +and full a life—who have all! But I—my hands are +empty!" She spread out her curved fingers, looking at them, +dropping her hands, pathetically drooping her shoulders.</p> +<p>"All, Madam? What do you mean? You see me almost in rags. Beyond +the rifle at my cabin, the pistol at my tent, I have scarce more in +wealth than what I wear, while you have what you like."</p> +<p>"All but everything!" she murmured; "all but home!"</p> +<p>"Nor have I a home."</p> +<p>"All, except that my couch is empty save for myself and my +memories!"</p> +<p>"Not more than mine, nor with sadder memories, Madam."</p> +<p>"Why, what do you mean?" she asked me suddenly. "What do you +<i>mean?</i>" She repeated it again, as though half in horror.</p> +<p>"Only that we are equal and alike. That we are here on the same +errand. That our view of life should be the same."</p> +<p>"What do you mean about home? But tell me, <i>were you not then +married?</i>"</p> +<p>"No, I am alone, Madam. I never shall be married."</p> +<p>There may have been some slight motion of a hand which beckoned +me to a seat at the opposite side of the table. As I sat, I saw her +search my face carefully, slowly, with eyes I could not read. At +last she spoke, after her frequent fashion, half to herself.</p> +<p>"It succeeded, then!" said she. "Yet I am not happy! Yet I have +failed!"</p> +<p>"I pause, Madam," said I, smiling. "I await your pleasure."</p> +<p>"Ah, God! Ah, God!" she sighed. "What have I done?" She +staggered to her feet and stood beating her hands together, as was +her way when perturbed. "What have I <i>done</i>!"</p> +<p>"Threlka!" I heard her call, half chokingly. The old servant +came hurriedly.</p> +<p>"Wine, tea, anything, Threlka!" She dropped down again opposite +me, panting, and looking at me with wide eyes.</p> +<p>"Tell me, do you know what you have said?" she began.</p> +<p>"No, Madam. I grieve if I have caused you any pain."</p> +<p>"Well, then, you are noble; when look, what pain I have caused +you! Yet not more than myself. No, not so much. I hope not so +much!"</p> +<p>Truly there is thought which passes from mind to mind. Suddenly +the thing in her mind sped across to mine. I looked at her +suddenly, in my eyes also, perhaps, the horror which I felt.</p> +<p>"It was you!" I exclaimed. "It was you! Ah, now I begin to +understand! How could you? You parted us! <i>You</i> parted me from +Elisabeth!"</p> +<p>"Yes," she said regretfully, "I did it It was my fault."</p> +<p>I rose and drew apart from her, unable to speak. She went +on.</p> +<p>"But I was not then as I am now. See, I was embittered, +reckless, desperate. I was only beginning to think—I only +wanted time. I did not really mean to do all this. I only +thought—Why, I had not yet known you a day nor her an hour. +'Twas all no more than half a jest"</p> +<p>"How could you do it?" I demanded. "Yet that is no more strange. +How <i>did</i> you do it?"</p> +<p>"At the door, that first night. I was mad then over the wrong +done to what little womanhood I could claim for my own. I hated +Yturrio. I hated Pakenham. They had both insulted me. I hated every +man. I had seen nothing but the bitter and desperate side of +life—I was eager to take revenge even upon the innocent ones +of this world, seeing that I had suffered so much. I had an old +grudge against women, against women, I say—against +<i>women!</i>"</p> +<p>She buried her face in her hands. I saw her eyes no more till +Threlka came and lifted her head, offering her a cup of drink, and +so standing patiently until again she had dismissal.</p> +<p>"But still it is all a puzzle to me, Madam," I began. "I do not +understand."</p> +<p>"Well, when you stood at the door, my little shoe in your +pocket, when you kissed my hand that first night, when you told me +what you would do did you love a woman—when I saw something +new in life I had not seen—why, then, in the devil's +resolution that no woman in the world should be happy if I could +help it, I slipped in the body of the slipper a little line or so +that I had written when you did not see, when I was in the other +room. 'Twas that took the place of Van Zandt's message, after all! +Monsieur, it was fate. Van Zandt's letter, without plan, fell out +on my table. Your note, sent by plan, remained in the shoe!"</p> +<p>"And what did it say? Tell me at once."</p> +<p>"Very little. Yet enough fora woman who loved and who expected. +Only this: '<i>In spite of that other woman, come to me still. Who +can teach yon love of woman as can I? Helena.</i>' I think it was +some such words as those."</p> +<p>I looked at her in silence.</p> +<p>"You did not see that note?" she demanded. "After all, at first +I meant it only for <i>you</i>. I wanted to see you again. I did +not want to lose you. Ah, God! I was so lonely, so—so—I +can not say. But you did not find my message?"</p> +<p>I shook my head. "No," I said, "I did not look in the slipper. I +do not think my friend did."</p> +<p>"But she—that girl, did!"</p> +<p>"How could she have believed?"</p> +<p>"Ah, grand! I reverence your faith. But she is a woman! She +loved you and expected you that hour, I say. Thus comes the shock +of finding you untrue, of finding you at least a common man, after +all. She is a woman. 'Tis the same fight, all the centuries, after +all! Well, I did that."</p> +<p>"You ruined the lives of two, neither of whom had ever harmed +you, Madam."</p> +<p>"What is it to the tree which consumes another tree—the +flower which devours its neighbor? Was it not life?"</p> +<p>"You had never seen Elisabeth."</p> +<p>"Not until the next morning, no. Then I thought still on what +you had said. I envied her—I say, I coveted the happiness of +you both. What had the world ever given me? What had I +done—what had I been—what could I ever be? Your +messenger came back with the slipper. The note was in the shoe +untouched. Your messenger had not found it, either. See, I +<i>did</i> mean it for you alone. But now since sudden thought came +to me. I tucked it back and sent your drunken friend away with it +for her—where I knew it would be found! I did not know what +would be the result. I was only desperate over what life had done +to me. I wanted to get <i>out</i>—out into a wider and +brighter world."</p> +<p>"Ah, Madam, and was so mean a key as this to open that world for +you? Now we all three wander, outside that world."</p> +<p>"No, it opened no new world for me," she said. "I was not meant +for that. But at least, I only acted as I have been treated all my +life. I knew no better then."</p> +<p>"I had not thought any one capable of that," said I.</p> +<p>"Ah, but I repented on the instant! I repented before night +came. In the twilight I got upon my knees and prayed that all my +plan might go wrong—if I could call it plan. 'Now,' I said, +as the hour approached, 'they are before the priest; they stand +there—she in white, perhaps; he tall and grave. Their hands +are clasped each in that of the other. They are saying those +tremendous words which may perhaps mean so much.' Thus I ran on to +myself. I say I followed you through the hour of that ceremony. I +swore with her vows, I pledged with her pledge, promised with her +promise. Yes, yes—yes, though I prayed that, after all, I +might lose, that I might pay back; that I might some time have +opportunity to atone for my own wickedness! Ah! I was only a woman. +The strongest of women are weak sometimes.</p> +<p>"Well, then, my friend, I have paid. I thank God that I failed +then to make another wretched as myself. It was only I who again +was wretched. Ah! is there no little pity in your heart for me, +after all?—who succeeded only to fail so miserably?"</p> +<p>But again I could only turn away to ponder.</p> +<p>"See," she went on; "for myself, this is irremediable, but it is +not so for you, nor for her. It is not too ill to be made right +again. There in Montreal, I thought that I had failed in my plan, +that you indeed were married. You held yourself well in hand; like +a man, Monsieur. But as to that, you <i>were</i> married, for your +love for her remained; your pledge held. And did not I, repenting, +marry you to her—did not I, on my knees, marry you to her +that night? Oh, do not blame me too much!"</p> +<p>"She should not have doubted," said I. "I shall not go back and +ask her again. The weakest of men are strong sometimes!"</p> +<p>"Ah, now you are but a man! Being such, you can not understand +how terribly much the faith of man means for a woman. It was her +<i>need</i> for you that spoke, not her <i>doubt</i> of you. +Forgive her. She was not to blame. Blame me! Do what you like to +punish me! Now, I shall make amends. Tell me what I best may do. +Shall I go to her, shall I tell her?"</p> +<p>"Not as my messenger. Not for me."</p> +<p>"No? Well, then, for myself? That is my right. I shall tell her +how priestly faithful a man you were."</p> +<p>I walked to her, took her arms in my hands and raised her to my +level, looking into her eyes.</p> +<p>"Madam," I said, "God knows, I am no priest. I deserve no +credit. It was chance that cast Elisabeth and me together before +ever I saw you. I told you one fire was lit in my heart and had +left room for no other. I meet youth and life with all that there +is in youth and life. I am no priest, and ask you not to confess +with me. We both should confess to our own souls."</p> +<p>"It is as I said," she went on; "you were married!"</p> +<p>"Well, then, call it so—married after my fashion of +marriage; the fashion of which I told you, of a cabin and a bed of +husks. As to what you have said, I forget it, I have not heard it. +Your sort could have no heart beat for one like me. 'Tis men like +myself are slaves to women such as you. You could never have cared +for me, and never did. What you loved, Madam, was only what you had +<i>lost</i>, was only what you saw in this country—was only +what this country means! Your past life, of course, I do not +know."</p> +<p>"Sometime," she murmured, "I will tell you."</p> +<p>"Whatever it was, Madam, you have been a brilliant woman, a +power in affairs. Yes, and an enigma, and to none more than to +yourself. You show that now. You only loved what Elisabeth loved. +As woman, then, you were born for the first time, touched by that +throb of her heart, not your own. `Twas mere accident I was there +to feel that throb, as sweet as it was innocent. You were not woman +yet, you were but a child. You had not then chosen. You have yet to +choose. It was Love that you loved! Perhaps, after all, it was +America you loved. You began to see, as you say, a wider and a +sweeter world than you had known."</p> +<p>She nodded now, endeavoring to smile.</p> +<p>"<i>Gentilhomme!</i>" I heard her murmur.</p> +<p>"So then I go on, Madam, and say we are the same. I am the agent +of one idea, you of another. I ask you once more to choose. I know +how you will choose."</p> +<p>She went on, musing to herself. "Yes, there is a gulf between +male and female, after all. As though what he said could be true! +Listen!" She spoke up more sharply. "If results came as you liked, +what difference would the motives make?"</p> +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> +<p>"Only this, Monsieur, that I am not so lofty as you think. I +might do something. If so, 'twould need to be through some motive +wholly sufficient to <i>myself</i>."</p> +<p>"Search, then, your own conscience."</p> +<p>"I have one, after all! It might say something to me, yes."</p> +<p>"Once you said to me that the noblest thing in life was to pass +on the torch of a great principle."</p> +<p>"I lied! I lied!" she cried, beating her hands together. "I am a +woman! Look at me!"</p> +<p>She threw back her shoulders, standing straight and fearless. +God wot, she was a woman. Curves and flame! Yes, she was a woman. +White flesh and slumbering hair! Yes, she was a woman. Round flesh +and the red-flecked purple scent arising! Yes, she was a woman. +Torture of joy to hold in a man's arms! Yes, she was a woman!</p> +<p>"How, then, could I believe"—she laid a hand upon her +bosom—"how, then, could I believe that principle was more +than life? It is for you, a <i>man</i>, to believe that. Yet even +you will not. You leave it to me, and I answer that I will not! +What I did I did, and I bargain with none over that now. I pay my +wagers. I make my own reasons, too. If I do anything for the sake +of this country, it will not be through altruism, not through love +of principle! 'Twill be because I am a woman. Yes, once I was a +girl. Once I was born. Once, even, I had a mother, and was +loved!"</p> +<p>I could make no answer; but presently she changed again, swift +as the sky when some cloud is swept away in a strong gust of +wind.</p> +<p>"Come," she said, "I will bargain with you, after all!"</p> +<p>"Any bargain you like, Madam."</p> +<p>"And I will keep my bargain. You know that I will."</p> +<p>"Yes, I know that."</p> +<p>"Very well, then. I am going back to Washington."</p> +<p>"How do you mean?"</p> +<p>"By land, across the country; the way you came."</p> +<p>"You do not know what you say, Madam. The journey you suggest is +incredible, impossible."</p> +<p>"That matters nothing. I am going. And I am going +alone—No, you can not come with me. Do you think I would risk +more than I have risked? I go alone. I am England's spy; yes, that +is true. I am to report to England; yes, that is true. Therefore, +the more I see, the more I shall have to report. Besides, I have +something else to do."</p> +<p>"But would Mr. Pakenham listen to your report, after all?"</p> +<p>Now she hesitated for a moment. "I can induce him to listen," +she said. "That is part of my errand. First, before I see Mr. +Pakenham I am going to see Miss Elisabeth Churchill. I shall report +also to her. Then I shall have done my duty. Is it not so?"</p> +<p>"You could do no more," said I. "But what bargain—"</p> +<p>"Listen. If she uses me ill and will not believe either you or +me—then, being a woman, I shall hate her; and in that case I +shall go to Sir Richard for my own revenge. I shall tell him to +bring on this war. In that case, Oregon will be lost to you, or at +least bought dear by blood and treasure."</p> +<p>"We can attend to that, Madam," said I grimly, and I smiled at +her, although a sudden fear caught at my heart. I knew what damage +she was in position to accomplish if she liked. My heart stood +still. I felt the faint sweat again on my forehead.</p> +<p>"If I do not find her worthy of you, then she can not have you," +went on Helena von Ritz.</p> +<p>"But Madam, you forget one thing. She <i>is</i> worthy of me, or +of any other man!"</p> +<p>"I shall be judge of that. If she is what you think, you shall +have her—and Oregon!"</p> +<p>"But as to myself, Madam? The bargain?"</p> +<p>"I arrive, Monsieur! If she fails you, then I ask only time. I +have said to you I am a woman!"</p> +<p>"Madam," I said to her once more, "who are you and what are +you?"</p> +<p>In answer, she looked me once more straight in the face. "Some +day, back there, after I have made my journey, I shall tell +you."</p> +<p>"Tell me now."</p> +<p>"I shall tell you nothing. I am not a little girl. There is a +bargain which I offer, and the only one I shall offer. It is a +gamble. I have gambled all my life. If you will not accord me so +remote a chance as this, why, then, I shall take it in any +case."</p> +<p>"I begin to see, Madam," said I, "how large these stakes may +run."</p> +<p>"In case I lose, be sure at least I shall pay. I shall make my +atonement," she said.</p> +<p>"I doubt not that, Madam, with all your heart and mind and +soul."</p> +<p>"And <i>body</i>!" she whispered. The old horror came again upon +her face. She shuddered, I did not know why. She stood now as one +in devotions for a time, and I would no more have spoken than had +she been at her prayers, as, indeed, I think she was. At last she +made some faint movement of her hands. I do not know whether it was +the sign of the cross.</p> +<p>She rose now, tall, white-clad, shimmering, a vision of beauty +such as that part of the world certainly could not then offer. Her +hair was loosened now in its masses and drooped more widely over +her temples, above her brow. Her eyes were very large and dark, and +I saw the faint blue shadows coming again beneath them. Her hands +were clasped, her chin raised just a trifle, and her gaze was rapt +as that of some longing soul. I could not guess of these things, +being but a man, and, I fear, clumsy alike of body and wit.</p> +<div class="figcenter"><br /> +<a href="images/298.jpg"><img src="images/298.jpg" width="45%" alt= +"" title="" /></a><br /> +<b>"I want—" said she. "I wish—I wish—"</b> +<br /></div> +<p>"There is one thing, Madam, which we have omitted," said I at +last. "What are <i>my</i> stakes? How may I pay?"</p> +<p>She swayed a little on her feet, as though she were weak. "I +want," said she, "I wish—I wish—"</p> +<p>The old childlike look of pathos came again. I have never seen +so sad a face. She was a lady, white and delicately clad; I, a rude +frontiersman in camp-grimed leather. But I stepped to her now and +took her in my arms and held her close, and pushed back the damp +waves of her hair. And because a man's tears were in my eyes, I +have no doubt of absolution when I say I had been a cad and a +coward had I not kissed her own tears away. I no longer made +pretense of ignorance, but ah! how I wished that I were ignorant of +what it was not my right to know....</p> +<p>I led her to the edge of the little bed of husks and found her +kerchief. Ah, she was of breeding and courage! Presently, her voice +rose steady and clear as ever. "Threlka!" she called. "Please!"</p> +<p>When Threlka came, she looked closely at her lady's face, and +what she read seemed, after all, to content her.</p> +<p>"Threlka," said my lady in French, "I want the little one."</p> +<p>I turned to her with query in my eyes.</p> +<p>"<i>Tiens!</i>" she said. "Wait. I have a little surprise."</p> +<p>"You have nothing at any time save surprises, Madam."</p> +<p>"Two things I have," said she, sighing: "a little dog from +China, Chow by name. He sleeps now, and I must not disturb him, +else I would show you how lovely a dog is Chow. Also here I have +found a little Indian child running about the post. Doctor +McLaughlin was rejoiced when I adopted her."</p> +<p>"Well, then, Madam, what next!"</p> +<p>—"Yes, with the promise to him that I would care for that +little child. I want something for my own. See now. Come, +Natoka!"</p> +<p>The old servant paused at the door. There slid across the floor +with the silent feet of the savage the tiny figure of a little +child, perhaps four years of age, with coal-black hair and beady +eyes, clad in all the bequilled finery that a trading-post could +furnish—a little orphan child, as I learned later, whose +parents had both been lost in a canoe accident at the Dalles. She +was an infant, wild, untrained, unloved, unable to speak a word of +the language that she heard. She stood now hesitating, but that was +only by reason of her sight of me. As I stepped aside, the little +one walked steadily but with quickening steps to my satin-clad lady +on her couch of husks. She took up the child in her arms.... Now, +there must be some speech between woman and child. I do not know, +except that the Baroness von Ritz spoke and that the child put out +a hand to her cheek. Then, as I stood awkward as a clown myself and +not knowing what to do, I saw tears rain again from the eyes of +Helena von Ritz, so that I turned away, even as I saw her cheek +laid to that of the child while she clasped it tight.</p> +<p>"Monsieur!" I heard her say at last.</p> +<p>I did not answer. I was learning a bit of life myself this +night. I was years older than when I had come through that +door.</p> +<p>"Monsieur!" I heard her call yet again.</p> +<p>"<i>Eh bien</i>, Madam?" I replied, lightly as I could, and so +turned, giving her all possible time. I saw her holding the Indian +child out in front of her in her strong young arms, lightly as +though the weight were nothing.</p> +<p>"See, then," she said; "here is my companion across the +mountains."</p> +<p>Again I began to expostulate, but now she tapped her foot +impatiently in her old way. "You have heard me say it. Very well. +Follow if you like. Listen also if you like. In a day or so, Doctor +McLaughlin plans a party for us all far up the Columbia to the +missions at Wailatpu. That is in the valley of the Walla Walla, +they tell me, just at this edge of the Blue Mountains, where the +wagon trains come down into this part of Oregon."</p> +<p>"They may not see the wagon trains so soon," I ventured. "They +would scarcely arrive before October, and now it is but +summer."</p> +<p>"At least, these British officers would see a part of this +country, do you not comprehend? We start within three days at +least. I wish only to say that perhaps—"</p> +<p>"Ah, I will be there surely, Madam!"</p> +<p>"If you come independently. I have heard, however, that one of +the missionary women wishes to go back to the States. I have +thought that perhaps it might be better did we go together. Also +Natoka. Also Chow."</p> +<p>"Does Doctor McLaughlin know of your plans?"</p> +<p>"I am not under his orders, Monsieur. I only thought that, since +you were used to this western travel, you could, perhaps, be of aid +in getting me proper guides and vehicles. I should rely upon your +judgment very much, Monsieur."</p> +<p>"You are asking me to aid you in your own folly," said I +discontentedly, "but I will be there; and be sure also you can not +prevent me from following—if you persist in this absolute +folly. A woman—to cross the Rockies!"</p> +<p>I rose now, and she was gracious enough to follow me part way +toward the door. We hesitated there, awkwardly enough. But once +more our hands met in some sort of fellowship.</p> +<p>"Forget!" I heard her whisper. And I could think of no reply +better than that same word.</p> +<p>I turned as the door swung for me to pass out into the night. I +saw her outlined against the lights within, tall and white, in her +arms the Indian child, whose cheek was pressed to her own. I do not +concern myself with what others may say of conduct or of constancy. +To me it seemed that, had I not made my homage, my reverence, to +one after all so brave as she, I would not be worthy the cover of +that flag which to-day floats both on the Columbia and the Rio +Grande.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER +XXVIII</h2> +<h3>WHEN A WOMAN WOULD</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>The two pleasantest days of a woman are her marriage day and the +day of her funeral.—<i>Hipponax</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>My garden at the Willamette might languish if it liked, and my +little cabin might stand in uncut wheat. For me, there were other +matters of more importance now. I took leave of hospitable Doctor +McLaughlin at Fort Vancouver with proper expressions of the +obligation due for his hospitality; but I said nothing to him, of +course, of having met the mysterious baroness, nor did I mention +definitely that I intended to meet them both again at no distant +date. None the less, I prepared to set out at once up the Columbia +River trail.</p> +<p>From Fort Vancouver to the missions at Wailatpu was a distance +by trail of more than two hundred miles. This I covered horseback, +rapidly, and arrived two or three days in advance of the English. +Nothing disturbed the quiet until, before noon of one day, we heard +the gun fire and the shoutings which in that country customarily +made announcement of the arrival of a party of travelers. Being on +the lookout for these, I soon discovered them to be my late friends +of the Hudson Bay Post.</p> +<p>One old brown woman, unhappily astride a native pony, I took to +be Threlka, my lady's servant, but she rode with her class, at the +rear. I looked again, until I found the baroness, clad in buckskins +and blue cloth, brave as any in finery of the frontier. Doctor +McLaughlin saw fit to present us formally, or rather carelessly, it +not seeming to him that two so different would meet often in the +future; and of course there being no dream even in his shrewd mind +that we had ever met in the past. This supposition fitted our +plans, even though it kept us apart. I was but a common emigrant +farmer, camping like my kind. She, being of distinction, dwelt with +the Hudson Bay party in the mission buildings.</p> +<p>We lived on here for a week, visiting back and forth in amity, +as I must say. I grew to like well enough those blunt young fellows +of the Navy. With young Lieutenant Peel especially I struck up +something of a friendship. If he remained hopelessly British, at +least I presume I remained quite as hopelessly American; so that we +came to set aside the topic of conversation on which we could not +agree.</p> +<p>"There is something about which you don't know," he said to me, +one evening. "I am wholly unacquainted with the interior of your +country. What would you say, for instance, regarding its safety for +a lady traveling across—a small party, you know, of her own? +I presume of course you know whom I mean?"</p> +<p>I nodded. "You must mean the Baroness von Ritz."</p> +<p>"Yes. She has been traveling abroad. Of course we took such care +of her on shipboard as we could, although a lady has no place on +board a warship. She had with her complete furnishings for a suite +of apartments, and these were delivered ashore at Fort Vancouver. +Doctor McLaughlin gave her quarters. Of course you do not know +anything of this?"</p> +<p>I allowed him to proceed.</p> +<p>"Well, she has told us calmly that she plans crossing this +country from here to the Eastern States!"</p> +<p>"That could not possibly be!" I declared.</p> +<p>"Quite so. The old trappers tell me that the mountains are +impassable even in the fall. They say that unless she met some +west-bound train and came back with it, the chance would be that +she would never be heard of again."</p> +<p>"You have personal interest in this?" I interrupted.</p> +<p>He nodded, flushing a little. "Awfully so," said he.</p> +<p>"I would have the right to guess you were hit pretty hard?"</p> +<p>"To the extent of asking her to become my wife!" said he firmly, +although his fair face flushed again.</p> +<p>"You do not in the least know her," he went on. "In my case, I +have done my turn at living, and have seen my share of women, but +never her like in any part of the world! So when she proposed to +make this absurd journey, I offered to go with her. It meant of +course my desertion from the Navy, and so I told her. She would not +listen to it. She gives me no footing which leaves it possible for +me to accompany her or to follow her. Frankly, I do not know what +to do."</p> +<p>"It seems to me, Lieutenant Peel," I ventured, "that the most +sensible thing in the world for us to do is to get together an +expedition to follow her."</p> +<p>He caught me by the hand. "You do not tell me <i>you</i> would +do that?"</p> +<p>"It seems a duty."</p> +<p>"But could you yourself get through?"</p> +<p>"As to that, no one can tell. I did so coming west."</p> +<p>He sat silent for a time. "It will be the last I shall ever see +of her in any case," said he, at length. "We don't know how long it +will be before we leave the mouth of the Columbia, and then I could +not count on finding her. You do not think me a fool for telling +you what I have?"</p> +<p>"No," said I. "I do not blame you for being a fool. All men who +are men are fools over women, one time or other."</p> +<p>"Good luck to you, then! Now, what shall we do?"</p> +<p>"In the first place," said I, "if she insists upon going, let us +give her every possible chance for success."</p> +<p>"It looks an awfully slender chance," he sighed. "You will +follow as close on their heels as you can?"</p> +<p>"Of that you may rest assured."</p> +<p>"What is the distance, do you think?"</p> +<p>"Two thousand miles at least, before she could be safe. She +could not hope to cover more than twenty-five miles a day, many +days not so much as that. To be sure, there might be such a thing +as her meeting wagons coming out; and, as you say, she might +return."</p> +<p>"You do not know her!" said he. "She will not turn back."</p> +<p>I had full reason to agree with him.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> +<h3>IN EXCHANGE</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Great women belong to history and to self-sacrifice.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;">—<i>Leigh +Hunt</i>.</span></p> +</div> +<p>For sufficient reasons of my own, which have been explained, I +did not care to mingle more than was necessary with the party of +the Hudson Bay folk who made their quarters with the missionary +families. I kept close to my own camp when not busy with my +inquiries in the neighborhood, where I now began to see what could +be done in the preparation of a proper outfit for the baroness. +Herself I did not see for the next two days; but one evening I met +her on the narrow log gallery of one of the mission houses. Without +much speech we sat and looked over the pleasant prospect of the +wide flats, the fringe of willow trees, the loom of the mountains +off toward the east.</p> +<p>"Continually you surprise me, Madam," I began, at last. "Can we +not persuade you to abandon this foolish plan of your going +east?"</p> +<p>"I see no reason for abandoning it," said she. "There are some +thousands of your people, men, women and children, who have crossed +that trail. Why should not I?"</p> +<p>"But they come in large parties; they come well prepared. Each +helps his neighbor."</p> +<p>"The distance is the same, and the method is the same."</p> +<p>I ceased to argue, seeing that she would not be persuaded. "At +least, Madam," said I, "I have done what little I could in securing +you a party. You are to have eight mules, two carts, six horses, +and two men, beside old Joe Meek, the best guide now in Oregon. He +would not go to save his life. He goes to save yours."</p> +<p>"You are always efficient," said she. "But why is it that we +always have some unpleasant argument? Come, let us have tea!"</p> +<p>"Many teas together, Madam, if you would listen to me. Many a +pot brewed deep and black by scores of camp-fires."</p> +<p>"Fie! Monsieur proposes a scandal."</p> +<p>"No, Monsieur proposes only a journey to Washington—with +you, or close after you."</p> +<p>"Of course I can not prevent your following," she said.</p> +<p>"Leave it so. But as to pledges—at least I want to keep my +little slipper. Is Madam's wardrobe with her? Could she humor a +peevish friend so much as that? Come, now, I will make fair +exchange. I will trade you again my blanket clasp for that one +little shoe!"</p> +<p>I felt in the pocket of my coat, and held out in my hand the +remnants of the same little Indian ornament which had figured +between us the first night we had met. She grasped at it eagerly, +turning it over in her hand.</p> +<p>"But see," she said, "one of the clasps is gone."</p> +<p>"Yes, I parted with it. But come, do I have my little +slipper?"</p> +<p>"Wait!" said she, and left me for a moment. Presently she +returned, laughing, with the little white satin foot covering in +her hand.</p> +<p>"I warrant it is the only thing of the sort ever was seen in +these buildings," she went on. "Alas! I fear I must leave most of +my possessions here! I have already disposed of the furnishings of +my apartment to Mr. James Douglas at Fort Vancouver. I hear he is +to replace this good Doctor McLaughlin. Well, his half-breed wife +will at least have good setting up for her household. Tell me, +now," she concluded, "what became of the other shell from this +clasp?"</p> +<p>"I gave it to an old man in Montreal," I answered. I went on to +show her the nature of the device, as it had been explained to me +by old Doctor von Rittenhofen.</p> +<p>"How curious!" she mused, as it became more plain to her. "Life, +love, eternity! The beginning and the end of all this turmoil about +passing on the torch of life. It is old, old, is it not? Tell me, +who was the wise man who described all this to you?"</p> +<p>"Not a stranger to this very country, I imagine," was my answer. +"He spent some years here in Oregon with the missionaries, engaged, +as he informed me, in classifying the butterflies of this new +region. A German scientist, I think, and seemingly a man of +breeding."</p> +<p>"If I were left to guess," she broke out suddenly, "I would say +it must have been this same old man who told you about the plans of +the Canadian land expedition to this country."</p> +<p>"Continually, Madam, we find much in common. At least we both +know that the Canadian expedition started west. Tell me, when will +it arrive on the Columbia?"</p> +<p>"It will never arrive. It will never cross the Rockies. Word has +gone up the Columbia now that for these men to appear in this +country would bring on immediate war. That does not suit the book +of England more than it does that of America."</p> +<p>"Then the matter will wait until you see Mr. Pakenham?"</p> +<p>She nodded. "I suppose so."</p> +<p>"You will find facts enough. Should you persist in your mad +journey and get far enough to the east, you will see two thousand, +three thousand men coming out to Oregon this fall. It is but the +beginning. But you and I, sitting here, three thousand miles and +more away from Washington, can determine this question. Madam, +perhaps yet you may win your right to some humble home, with a +couch of husks or straw. Sleep, then, by our camp-fires across +America, and let our skies cover you at night. Our men will watch +over you faithfully. Be our guest—our friend!"</p> +<p>"You are a good special pleader," said she; "but you do not +shake me in my purpose, and I hold to my terms. It does not rest +with you and me, but with another. As I have told you—as we +have both agreed—"</p> +<p>"Then let us not speak her name," said I.</p> +<p>Again her eyes looked into mine, straight, large and dark. Again +the spell of her beauty rose all around me, enveloped me as I had +felt it do before. "You can not have Oregon, except through me," +she said at last. "You can not have—her—except through +me!"</p> +<p>"It is the truth," I answered. "In God's name, then, play the +game fair."</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> +<h3>COUNTER CURRENTS</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Woman is like the reed that bends to every breeze, but breaks +not in the tempest.—<i>Bishop Richard Whately</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>The Oregon immigration for 1845 numbered, according to some +accounts, not less than three thousand souls. Our people still +rolled westward in a mighty wave. The history of that great +west-bound movement is well known. The story of a yet more decisive +journey of that same year never has been written—that of +Helena von Ritz, from Oregon to the east. The price of that journey +was an empire; its cost—ah, let me not yet speak of that.</p> +<p>Although Meek and I agreed that he should push east at the best +possible speed, it was well enough understood that I should give +him no more than a day or so start. I did not purpose to allow so +risky a journey as this to be undertaken by any woman in so small a +party, and made no doubt that I would overtake them at least at +Fort Hall, perhaps five hundred miles east of the Missions, or at +farthest at Fort Bridger, some seven hundred miles from the +starting point in Oregon.</p> +<p>The young wife of one of the missionaries was glad enough to +take passage thus for the East; and there was the silent Threlka. +Those two could offer company, even did not the little Indian maid, +adopted by the baroness, serve to interest her. Their equipment and +supplies were as good as any purchasable. What could be done, we +now had done.</p> +<p>Yet after all Helena von Ritz had her own way. I did not see her +again after we parted that evening at the Mission. I was absent for +a couple of days with a hunting party, and on my return discovered +that she was gone, with no more than brief farewell to those left +behind! Meek was anxious as herself to be off; but he left word for +me to follow on at once.</p> +<p>Gloom now fell upon us all. Doctor Whitman, the only white man +ever to make the east-bound journey from Oregon, encouraged us as +best he could; but young Lieutenant Peel was the picture of +despair, nor did he indeed fail in the prophecy he made to me; for +never again did he set eyes on the face of Helena von Ritz, and +never again did I meet him. I heard, years later, that he died of +fever on the China coast.</p> +<p>It may be supposed that I myself now hurried in my plans. I was +able to make up a small party of four men, about half the number +Meek took with him; and I threw together such equipment as I could +find remaining, not wholly to my liking, but good enough, I +fancied, to overtake a party headed by a woman. But one thing after +another cost us time, and we did not average twenty miles a day. I +felt half desperate, as I reflected on what this might mean. As +early fall was approaching, I could expect, in view of my own lost +time, to encounter the annual wagon train two or three hundred +miles farther westward than the object of my pursuit naturally +would have done. As a matter of fact, my party met the wagons at a +point well to the west of Fort Hall.</p> +<p>It was early in the morning we met them coming west,—that +long, weary, dust-covered, creeping caravan, a mile long, slow +serpent, crawling westward across the desert. In time I came up to +the head of the tremendous wagon train of 1845, and its leader and +myself threw up our hands in the salutation of the wilderness.</p> +<p>The leader's command to halt was passed back from one wagon to +another, over more than a mile of trail. As we dismounted, there +came hurrying up about us men and women, sunburned, lean, ragged, +abandoning their wagons and crowding to hear the news from Oregon. +I recall the picture well enough to-day—the sun-blistered +sands all about, the short and scraggly sage-brush, the long line +of white-topped wagons dwindling in the distance, the thin-faced +figures which crowded about.</p> +<p>The captain stood at the head of the front team, his hand +resting on the yoke as he leaned against the bowed neck of one of +the oxen. The men and women were thin almost as the beasts which +dragged the wagons. These latter stood with lolling tongues even +thus early in the day, for water hereabout was scarce and bitter to +the taste. So, at first almost in silence, we made the salutations +of the desert. So, presently, we exchanged the news of East and +West. So, I saw again my canvas of the fierce west-bound.</p> +<p>There is to-day no news of the quality which we then +communicated. These knew nothing of Oregon. I knew nothing of the +East. A national election had been held, regarding which I knew not +even the names of the candidates of either party, not to mention +the results. All I could do was to guess and to point to the +inscription on the white top of the foremost wagon: "<i>Fifty-four +Forty or Fight!</i>"</p> +<p>"Is Polk elected?" I asked the captain of the train.</p> +<p>He nodded. "He shore is," said he. "We're comin' out to take +Oregon. What's the news?"</p> +<p>My own grim news was that Oregon was ours and must be ours. I +shook hands with a hundred men on that, our hands clasped in stern +and silent grip. Then, after a time, I urged other questions +foremost in my own mind. Had they seen a small party +east-bound?</p> +<p>Yes, I had answer. They had passed this light outfit east of +Bridger's post. There was one chance in a hundred they might get +over the South Pass that fall, for they were traveling light and +fast, with good animals, and old Joe Meek was sure he would make it +through. The women? Well, one was a preacher's wife, another an old +Gipsy, and another the most beautiful woman ever seen on the trail +or anywhere else. Why was she going east instead of west, away from +Oregon instead of to Oregon? Did I know any of them? I was +following them? Then I must hurry, for soon the snow would come in +the Rockies. They had seen no Indians. Well, if I was following +them, there would be a race, and they wished me well! But why go +East, instead of West?</p> +<p>Then they began to question me regarding Oregon. How was the +land? Would it raise wheat and corn and hogs? How was the weather? +Was there much game? Would it take much labor to clear a farm? Was +there any likelihood of trouble with the Indians or with the +Britishers? Could a man really get a mile square of good farm land +without trouble? And so on, and so on, as we sat in the blinding +sun in the sage-brush desert until midday.</p> +<p>Of course it came to politics. Yes, Texas had been annexed, +somehow, not by regular vote of the Senate. There was some hitch +about that. My leader reckoned there was no regular treaty. It had +just been done by joint resolution of the House—done by Tyler +and Calhoun, just in time to take the feather out of old Polk's +cap! The treaty of annexation—why, yes, it was ratified by +Congress, and everything signed up March third, just one day before +Polk's inaugural! Polk was on the warpath, according to my gaunt +leader. There was going to be war as sure as shooting, unless we +got all of Oregon. We had offered Great Britain a fair show, and in +return she had claimed everything south to the Columbia, so now we +had withdrawn all soft talk. It looked like war with Mexico and +England both. Never mind, in that case we would whip them both!</p> +<p>"Do you see that writin' on my wagon top?" asked the captain. +"<i>Fifty-four Forty or Fight.</i> That's us!"</p> +<p>And so they went on to tell us how this cry was spreading, South +and West, and over the North as well; although the Whigs did not +dare cry it quite so loudly.</p> +<p>"They want the <i>land</i>, just the same," said the captain. +"We <i>all</i> want it, an', by God! we're goin' to git it!"</p> +<p>And so at last we parted, each the better for the information +gained, each to resume what would to-day seem practically an +endless journey. Our farewells were as careless, as confident, as +had been our greetings. Thousands of miles of unsettled country lay +east and west of us, and all around us, our empire, not then +won.</p> +<p>History tells how that wagon train went through, and how its +settlers scattered all along the Willamette and the Columbia and +the Walla Walla, and helped us to hold Oregon. For myself, the +chapter of accidents continued. I was detained at Fort Hall, and +again east of there. I met straggling immigrants coming on across +the South Pass to winter at Bridger's post; but finally I lost all +word of Meek's party, and could only suppose that they had got over +the mountains.</p> +<p>I made the journey across the South Pass, the snow being now +beaten down on the trails more than usual by the west-bound animals +and vehicles. Of all these now coming on, none would get farther +west than Fort Hall that year. Our own party, although over the +Rockies, had yet the Plains to cross. I was glad enough when we +staggered into old Fort Laramie in the midst of a blinding +snow-storm. Winter had caught us fair and full. I had lost the +race!</p> +<p>Here, then, I must winter. Yet I learned that Joe Meek had +outfitted at Laramie almost a month earlier, with new animals; had +bought a little grain, and, under escort of a cavalry troop which +had come west with the wagon train, had started east in time, +perhaps, to make it through to the Missouri. In a race of one +thousand miles, the baroness had already beaten me almost by a +month! Further word was, of course, now unobtainable, for no trains +or wagons would come west so late, and there were then no stages +carrying mail across the great Plains. There was nothing for me to +do except to wait and eat out my heart at old Fort Laramie, in the +society of Indians and trappers, half-breeds and traders. The +winter seemed years in length, so gladly I make its story +brief.</p> +<p>It was now the spring of 1846, and I was in my second year away +from Washington. Glad enough I was when in the first sunshine of +spring I started east, taking my chances of getting over the +Plains. At last, to make the long journey also brief, I did reach +Fort Leavenworth, by this time a five months' loser in the +transcontinental race. It was a new annual wagon train which I now +met rolling westward. Such were times and travel not so long +ago.</p> +<p>Little enough had come of my two years' journey out to Oregon. +Like to the army of the French king, I had marched up the hill and +then marched down again. As much might have been said of the United +States; and the same was yet more true of Great Britain, whose army +of occupation had not even marched wholly up the hill. So much as +this latter fact I now could tell my own government; and I could +say that while Great Britain's fleet held the sea entry, the vast +and splendid interior of an unknown realm was open on the east to +our marching armies of settlers. Now I could describe that realm, +even though the plot of events advanced but slowly regarding it. It +was a plot of the stars, whose work is done in no haste.</p> +<p>Oregon still was held in that oft renewed and wholly absurd +joint occupancy, so odious and so dangerous to both nations. Two +years were taken from my life in learning that—and in +learning that this question of Oregon's final ownership was to be +decided not on the Pacific, not on the shoulders of the Blues or +the Cascades, but in the east, there at Washington, after all. The +actual issue was in the hands of the God of Battles, who sometimes +uses strange instruments for His ends. It was not I, it was not Mr. +Calhoun, not any of the officers of our government, who could get +Oregon for us. It was the God of Battles, whose instrument was a +woman, Helena von Ritz. After all, this was the chief fruit of my +long journey.</p> +<p>As to the baroness, she had long since left Fort Leavenworth for +the East. I followed still with what speed I could employ. I could +not reach Washington now until long after the first buds would be +out and the creepers growing green on the gallery of Mr. Calhoun's +residence. Yes, green also on all the lattices of Elmhurst Mansion. +What had happened there for me?</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> +<h3>THE PAYMENT</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>What man seeks in love is woman; what woman seeks in man is +love.—<i>Houssaye</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>When I reached Washington it was indeed spring, warm, sweet +spring. In the wide avenues the straggling trees were doing their +best to dignify the city, and flowers were blooming everywhere. +Wonderful enough did all this seem to me after thousands of miles +of rude scenery of bare valleys and rocky hills, wild landscapes, +seen often through cold and blinding storms amid peaks and gorges, +or on the drear, forbidding Plains.</p> +<p>Used more, of late, to these wilder scenes, I felt awkward and +still half savage. I did not at once seek out my own friends. My +first wish was to get in touch with Mr. Calhoun, for I knew that so +I would most quickly arrive at the heart of events.</p> +<p>He was away when I called at his residence on Georgetown +Heights, but at last I heard the wheels of his old omnibus, and +presently he entered with his usual companion, Doctor Samuel Ward. +When they saw me there, then indeed I received a greeting which +repaid me for many things! This over, we all three broke out in +laughter at my uncouth appearance. I was clad still in such +clothing as I could pick up in western towns as I hurried on from +the Missouri eastward; and I had as yet found no time for +barbers.</p> +<p>"We have had no word from you, Nicholas," said Mr. Calhoun +presently, "since that from Laramie, in the fall of eighteen +forty-four. This is in the spring of eighteen forty-six! Meantime, +we might all have been dead and buried and none of us the wiser. +What a country! 'Tis more enormous than the mind of any of us can +grasp."</p> +<p>"You should travel across it to learn that," I grinned.</p> +<p>"Many things have happened since you left. You know that I am +back in the Senate once more?"</p> +<p>I nodded. "And about Texas?" I began.</p> +<p>"Texas is ours," said he, smiling grimly. "You have heard how? +It was a hard fight enough—a bitter, selfish, sectional fight +among politicians. But there is going to be war. Our troops crossed +the Sabine more than a year ago. They will cross the Rio Grande +before this year is done. The Mexican minister has asked for his +passports. The administration has ordered General Taylor to +advance. Mr. Polk is carrying out annexation with a vengeance. +Seeing a chance for more territory, now that Texas is safe from +England, he plans war on helpless and deserted Mexico! We may hear +of a battle now at any time. But this war with Mexico may yet mean +war with England. That, of course, endangers our chance to gain all +or any of that great Oregon country. Tell me, what have you +learned?"</p> +<p>I hurried on now with my own news, briefly as I might. I told +them of the ships of England's Navy waiting in Oregon waters; of +the growing suspicion of the Hudson Bay people; of the changes in +the management at Fort Vancouver; of the change also from a +conciliatory policy to one of half hostility. I told them of our +wagon trains going west, and of the strength of our frontiersmen; +but offset this, justly as I might, by giving facts also regarding +the opposition these might meet.</p> +<p>"Precisely," said Calhoun, walking up and down, his head bent. +"England is prepared for war! How much are we prepared? It would +cost us the revenues of a quarter of a century to go to war with +her to-day. It would cost us fifty thousand lives. We would need an +army of two hundred and fifty thousand men. Where is all that to +come from? Can we transport our army there in time? But had all +this bluster ceased, then we could have deferred this war with +Mexico; could have bought with coin what now will cost us blood; +and we could also have bought Oregon without the cost of either +coin or blood. <i>Delay</i> was what we needed! <i>All</i> of +Oregon should have been ours!"</p> +<p>"But, surely, this is not all news to you?" I began. "Have you +not seen the Baroness von Ritz? Has she not made her report?"</p> +<p>"The baroness?" queried Calhoun. "That stormy petrel—that +advance agent of events! Did she indeed sail with the British ships +from Montreal? <i>Did</i> you find her there—in Oregon?"</p> +<p>"Yes, and lost her there! She started east last summer, and beat +me fairly in the race. Has she not made known her presence here? +She told me she was going to Washington."</p> +<p>He shook his head in surprise. "Trouble now, I fear! Pakenham +has back his best ally, our worst antagonist."</p> +<p>"That certainly is strange," said I. "She had five months the +start of me, and in that time there is no telling what she has done +or undone. Surely, she is somewhere here, in Washington! She held +Texas in her shoes. I tell you she holds Oregon in her gloves +to-day!"</p> +<p>I started up, my story half untold.</p> +<p>"Where are you going?" asked Mr. Calhoun of me. Doctor Ward +looked at me, smiling. "He does not inquire of a certain young +lady—"</p> +<p>"I am going to find the Baroness von Ritz!" said I. I flushed +red under my tan, I doubt not; but I would not ask a word regarding +Elisabeth.</p> +<p>Doctor Ward came and laid a hand on my shoulder. "Republics +forget," said he, "but men from South Carolina do not. Neither do +girls from Maryland. Do you think so?"</p> +<p>"That is what I am going to find out."</p> +<p>"How then? Are you going to Elmhurst as you look now?"</p> +<p>"No. I shall find out many things by first finding the Baroness +von Ritz." And before they could make further protests, I was out +and away.</p> +<p>I hurried now to a certain side street, of which I have made +mention, and knocked confidently at a door I knew. The neighborhood +was asleep in the warm sun. I knocked a second time, and began to +doubt, but at last heard slow footsteps.</p> +<p>There appeared at the crack of the door the wrinkled visage of +the old serving-woman, Threlka. I knew that she would be there in +precisely this way, because there was every reason in the world why +it should not have been. She paused, scanning me closely, then +quickly opened the door and allowed me to step inside, vanishing as +was her wont. I heard another step in a half-hidden hallway beyond, +but this was not the step which I awaited; it was that of a man, +slow, feeble, hesitating. I started forward as a face appeared at +the parted curtains. A glad cry welcomed me in turn. A tall, bent +form approached me, and an arm was thrown about my shoulder. It was +my whilom friend, our ancient scientist, Von Rittenhofen! I did not +pause to ask how he happened to be there. It was quite natural, +since it was wholly impossible. I made no wonder at the Chinese dog +Chow, or the little Indian maid, who both came, stared, and +silently vanished. Seeing these, I knew that their strange +protector must also have won through safe.</p> +<p>"<i>Ach, Gott! Gesegneter Gott!</i> I see you again, my friend!" +Thus the old Doctor.</p> +<p>"But tell me," I interrupted, "where is the mistress of this +house, the Baroness von Ritz?"</p> +<p>He looked at me in his mild way. "You mean my daughter +Helena?"</p> +<p>Now at last I smiled. His daughter! This at least was too +incredible! He turned and reached behind him to a little table. He +held up before my eyes my little blanket clasp of shell. Then I +knew that this last and most impossible thing also was true, and +that in some way these two had found each other! But <i>why</i>? +What could he now mean?</p> +<p>"Listen now," he began, "and I shall tell you. I wass in the +street one day. When I walk alone, I do not much notice. But now, +as I walk, before my eyes on the street, I see what? +This—this, the Tah Gook! At first, I see nothing but it. Then +I look up. Before me iss a woman, young and beautiful. Ach! what +should I do but take her in my arms!"</p> +<p>"It was she; it was—"</p> +<p>"My daughter! Yess, my daughter. It iss <i>Helena</i>! I haf not +seen her for many years, long, cruel years. I suppose her dead. But +now there we were, standing, looking in each other's eyes! We see +there—Ach, Gott! what do we not see? Yet in spite of all, it +wass Helena. But she shall tell you." He tottered from the room.</p> +<p>I heard his footsteps pass down the hall. Then softly, almost +silently, Helena von Ritz again stood before me. The light from a +side window fell upon her face. Yes, it was she! Her face was +thinner now, browner even than was its wont. Her hair was still +faintly sunburned at its extremities by the western winds. Yet hers +was still imperishable youth and beauty.</p> +<p>I held out my hands to her. "Ah," I cried, "you played me false! +You ran away! By what miracle did you come through? I confess my +defeat. You beat me by almost half a year."</p> +<p>"But now you have come," said she simply.</p> +<p>"Yes, to remind you that you have friends. You have been here in +secret all the winter. Mr. Calhoun did not know you had come. Why +did you not go to him?"</p> +<p>"I was waiting for you to come. Do you not remember our bargain? +Each day I expected you. In some way, I scarce knew how, the weeks +wore on."</p> +<p>"And now I find you both here—you and your +father—where I would expect to find neither. Continually you +violate all law of likelihood. But now, you have seen +Elisabeth?"</p> +<p>"Yes, I have seen her," she said, still simply.</p> +<p>I could think of no word suited to that moment. I stood only +looking at her. She would have spoken, but on the instant raised a +hand as though to demand my silence. I heard a loud knock at the +door, peremptory, commanding, as though the owner came.</p> +<p>"You must go into another room," said Helena von Ritz to me +hurriedly.</p> +<p>"Who is it? Who is it at the door?" I asked.</p> +<p>She looked at me calmly. "It is Sir Richard Pakenham," said she. +"This is his usual hour. I will send him away. Go +now—quick!"</p> +<p>I rapidly passed behind the screening curtains into the hall, +even as I heard a heavy foot stumbling at the threshold and a +somewhat husky voice offer some sort of salutation.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER +XXXII</h2> +<h3>PAKENHAM'S PRICE</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>The happiest women, like nations, have no history.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15.5em;">—<i>George +Eliot</i>.</span></p> +</div> +<p>The apartment into which I hurriedly stepped I found to be a +long and narrow hall, heavily draped. A door or so made off on the +right-hand side, and a closed door also appeared at the farther +end; but none invited me to enter, and I did not care to intrude. +This situation did not please me, because I must perforce hear all +that went on in the rooms which I had just left. I heard the thick +voice of a man, apparently none the better for wine.</p> +<p>"My dear," it began, "I—" Some gesture must have warned +him.</p> +<p>"God bless my soul!" he began again. "Who is here, then? What is +wrong?"</p> +<p>"My father is here to-day," I heard her clear voice answer, +"and, as you suggest, it might perhaps be better—"</p> +<p>"God bless my soul!" he repeated. "But, my dear, then I must go! +<i>To-night</i>, then! Where is that other key? It would never do, +you know—"</p> +<p>"No, Sir Richard, it would never do. Go, then!" spoke a low and +icy voice, hers, yet not hers. "Hasten!" I heard her half whisper. +"I think perhaps my father—"</p> +<p>But it was my own footsteps they heard. This was something to +which I could not be party. Yet, rapidly as I walked, her visitor +was before me. I caught sight only of his portly back, as the +street door closed behind him. She stood, her back against the +door, her hand spread out against the wall, as though to keep me +from passing.</p> +<p>I paused and looked at her, held by the horror in her eyes. She +made no concealment, offered no apologies, and showed no shame. I +repeat that it was only horror and sadness mingled which I saw upon +her face.</p> +<p>"Madam," I began. And again, "Madam!" and then I turned +away.</p> +<p>"You see," she said, sighing.</p> +<p>"Yes, I fear I see; but I wish I did not. Can I not—may I +not be mistaken?"</p> +<p>"No, it is true. There is no mistake."</p> +<p>"What have you done? Why? <i>Why</i>?"</p> +<p>"Did you not always credit me with being the good friend of Mr. +Pakenham years ago—did not all the city? Well, then I was +<i>not</i>; but I <i>am</i>, now! I was England's agent +only—<i>until last night</i>. Monsieur, you have come too +soon, too late, too late. Ah, my God! my God! Last night I gave at +last that consent. He comes now to claim, to exact, to +take—possession—of me ... Ah, my God!"</p> +<p>"I can not, of course, understand you, Madam. <i>What</i> is it? +Tell me!"</p> +<p>"For three years England's minister besought me to be his, not +England's, property. It was not true, what the town thought. It was +not true in the case either of Yturrio. Intrigue—yes—I +loved it. I intrigued with England and Mexico both, because it was +in my nature; but no more than that. No matter what I once was in +Europe, I was not here—not, as I said, until last night. Ah, +Monsieur! Ah, Monsieur!" Now her hands were beating together.</p> +<p>"But <i>why</i> then? Why <i>then</i>? What do you mean?" I +demanded.</p> +<p>"Because no other way sufficed. All this winter, here, alone, I +have planned and thought about other means. Nothing would do. There +was but the one way. Now you see why I did not go to Mr. Calhoun, +why I kept my presence here secret."</p> +<p>"But you saw Elisabeth?"</p> +<p>"Yes, long ago. My friend, you have won! You both have won, and +I have lost. She loves you, and is worthy of you. You are worthy of +each other, yes. I saw I had lost; and I told you I would pay my +wager. I told you I would give you her—and Oregon! Well, +then, that last was—hard." She choked. "That was—hard +to do." She almost sobbed. "But I have—paid! Heart and soul +... and <i>body</i> ... I have ... <i>paid</i>! Now, he comes ... +for ... the <i>price</i>!"</p> +<p>"But then—but then!" I expostulated. "What does this mean, +that I see here? There was no need for this. Had you no friends +among us? Why, though it meant war, I myself to-night would choke +that beast Pakenham with my own hands!"</p> +<p>"No, you will not."</p> +<p>"But did I not hear him say there was a key—<i>his</i> +key—to-night?"</p> +<p>"Yes, England once owned that key. Now, <i>he</i> does. Yes, it +is true. Since yesterday. Now, he comes ..."</p> +<p>"But, Madam—ah, how could you so disappoint my belief in +you?"</p> +<p>"Because"—she smiled bitterly—"in all great causes +there are sacrifices."</p> +<p>"But no cause could warrant this."</p> +<p>"I was judge of that," was her response. "I saw +her—Elisabeth—that girl. Then I saw what the future +years meant for me. I tell you, I vowed with her, that night when I +thought you two were wedded. I did more. I vowed myself to a new +and wider world that night. Now, I have lost it. After all, seeing +I could not now be a woman and be happy, I—Monsieur—I +pass on to others, after this, not that torture of life, but that +torturing <i>principle</i> of which we so often spoke. Yes, I, even +as I am; because by this—this act—this +sacrifice—I can win you for her. And I can win that wider +America which you have coveted; which I covet for you—which I +covet <i>with</i> you!"</p> +<p>I could do no more than remain silent, and allow her to explain +what was not in the least apparent to me. After a time she went +on.</p> +<p>"Now—now, I say—Pakenham the minister is sunk in +Pakenham the man. He does as I demand—because he is a man. He +signs what I demand because I am a woman. I say, +to-night—but, see!"</p> +<p>She hastened now to a little desk, and caught up a folded +document which lay there. This she handed to me, unfolded, and I +ran it over with a hasty glance. It was a matter of tremendous +importance which lay in those few closely written lines.</p> +<p>England's minister offered, over the signature of England, a +compromise of the whole Oregon debate, provided this country would +accept the line of the forty-ninth degree! That, then, was +Pakenham's price for this key that lay here.</p> +<p>"This—this is all I have been able to do with him thus +far," she faltered. "It is not enough. But I did it for you!"</p> +<p>"Madam, this is more than all America has been able to do +before! This has not been made public?"</p> +<p>"No, no! It is not enough. But to-night I shall make him +surrender all—all north, to the very ice, for America, for +the democracy! See, now, I was born to be devoted, immolated, after +all, as my mother was before me. That is fate! But I shall make +fate pay! Ah, Monsieur! Ah, Monsieur!"</p> +<p>She flung herself to her feet. "I can get it all for you, you +and yours!" she reiterated, holding out her hands, the little pink +fingers upturned, as was often her gesture. "You shall go to your +chief and tell him that Mr. Polk was right—that you yourself, +who taught Helena von Ritz what life is, taught her that after all +she was a woman—are able, because she was a woman, to bring +in your own hands all that country, yes, to fifty-four forty, or +even farther. I do not know what all can be done. I only know that +a fool will part with everything for the sake of his body."</p> +<p>I stood now looking at her, silent, trying to fathom the +vastness of what she said, trying to understand at all their worth +the motives which impelled her. The largeness of her plan, yes, +that could be seen. The largeness of her heart and brain, yes, that +also. Then, slowly, I saw yet more. At last I understood. What I +saw was a horror to my soul.</p> +<p>"Madam," said I to her, at last, "did you indeed think me so +cheap as that? Come here!" I led her to the central apartment, and +motioned her to a seat.</p> +<p>"Now, then, Madam, much has been done here, as you say. It is +all that ever can be done. You shall not see Pakenham to-night, nor +ever again!"</p> +<p>"But think what that will cost you!" she broke out. "This is +only part. It should <i>all</i> be yours."</p> +<p>I flung the document from me. "This has already cost too much," +I said. "We do not buy states thus."</p> +<p>"But it will cost you your future! Polk is your enemy, now, as +he is Calhoun's. He will not strike you now, but so soon as he +dares, he will. Now, if you could do this—if you could take +this to Mr. Calhoun, to America, it would mean for you personally +all that America could give you in honors."</p> +<p>"Honors without honor, Madam, I do not covet," I replied. Then I +would have bit my tongue through when I saw the great pallor cross +her face at the cruelty of my speech.</p> +<p>"And <i>myself</i>?" she said, spreading out her hands again. +"But no! I know you would not taunt me. I know, in spite of what +you say, there must be a sacrifice. Well, then, I have made it. I +have made my atonement. I say I can give you now, even thus, at +least a part of Oregon. I can perhaps give you <i>all</i> of +Oregon—to-morrow! The Pakenhams have always dared much to +gain their ends. This one will dare even treachery to his country. +To-morrow—if I do not kill him—if I do not die—I +can perhaps give you all of Oregon—bought—bought and +... paid!" Her voice trailed off into a whisper which seemed loud +as a bugle call to me.</p> +<p>"No, you can not give us Oregon," I answered. "We are men, not +panders. We fight; we do not traffic thus. But you have given me +Elisabeth!"</p> +<p>"My rival!" She smiled at me in spite of all. "But no, not my +rival. Yes, I have already given you her and given you to her. To +do that—to atone, as I said, for my attempt to part +you—well, I will give Mr. Pakenham the key that Sir Richard +Pakenham of England lately held. I told you a woman pays, +<i>body</i> and soul! In what coin fate gave me, I will pay it. You +think my morals mixed. No, I tell you I am clean! I have only +bought my own peace with my own conscience! Now, at last, Helena +von Ritz knows why she was born, to what end! I have a work to do, +and, yes, I see it now—my journey to America after all was +part of the plan of fate. I have learned much—through you, +Monsieur."</p> +<p>Hurriedly she turned and left me, passing through the heavy +draperies which cut off the room where stood the great satin couch. +I saw her cast herself there, her arms outflung. Slow, deep and +silent sobs shook all her body.</p> +<p>"Madam! Madam!" I cried to her. "Do not! Do not! What you have +done here is worth a hundred millions of dollars, a hundred +thousand of lives, perhaps. Yes, that is true. It means most of +Oregon, with honor, and without war. That is true, and it is much. +But the price paid—it is more than all this continent is +worth, if it cost so much as that Nor shall it!"</p> +<p>Black, with a million pin-points of red, the world swam around +me. Millions of dead souls or souls unborn seemed to gaze at me and +my unhesitating rage. I caught up the scroll which bore England's +signature, and with one clutch cast it in two pieces on the floor. +As it lay, we gazed at it in silence. Slowly, I saw a great, soft +radiance come upon her face. The red pin-points cleared away from +my own vision.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER +XXXIII</h2> +<h3>THE STORY OF HELENA VON RITZ</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>There is in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire, +which beams and blazes in the dark hours of +adversity.—<i>Washington Irving</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>"But Madam; but Madam—" I tried to begin. At last, after +moments which seemed to me ages long, I broke out: "But once, at +least, you promised to tell me who and what you are. Will you do +that now?"</p> +<p>"Yes! yes!" she said. "Now I shall finish the clearing of my +soul. You, after all, shall be my confessor."</p> +<p>We heard again a faltering footfall in the hallway. I raised an +eyebrow in query.</p> +<p>"It is my father. Yes, but let him come. He also must hear. He +is indeed the author of my story, such as it is.</p> +<p>"Father," she added, "come, sit you here. I have something to +say to Mr. Trist."</p> +<p>She seated herself now on one of the low couches, her hands +clasped across its arm, her eyes looking far away out of the little +window, beyond which could be seen the hills across the wide +Potomac.</p> +<p>"We are foreigners," she went on, "as you can tell. I speak your +language better than my father does, because I was younger when I +learned. It is quite true he is my father. He is an Austrian +nobleman, of one of the old families. He was educated in Germany, +and of late has lived there."</p> +<p>"I could have told most of that of you both," I said.</p> +<p>She bowed and resumed:</p> +<p>"My father was always a student. As a young man in the +university, he was devoted to certain theories of his own. +<i>N'est-ce pas vrai, mon drôle?</i>" she asked, turning to +put her arm on her father's shoulder as he dropped weakly on the +couch beside her.</p> +<p>He nodded. "Yes, I wass student," he said. "I wass not content +with the ways of my people."</p> +<p>"So, my father, you will see," said she, smiling at him, "being +much determined on anything which he attempted, decided, with five +others, to make a certain experiment. It was the strangest +experiment, I presume, ever made in the interest of what is called +science. It was wholly the most curious and the most cruel thing +ever done."</p> +<p>She hesitated now. All I could do was to look from one to the +other, wonderingly.</p> +<p>"This dear old dreamer, my father, then, and five +others—"</p> +<p>"I name them!" he interrupted. "There were Karl von Goertz, +Albrecht Hardman, Adolph zu Sternbern, Karl von Starnack, and +Rudolph von Wardberg. We were all friends—"</p> +<p>"Yes," she said softly, "all friends, and all fools. Sometimes I +think of my mother."</p> +<p>"My dear, your mother!"</p> +<p>"But I must tell this as it was! Then, sir, these six, all +Heidelberg men, all well born, men of fortune, all men devoted to +science, and interested in the study of the hopelessness of the +average human being in Central Europe—these fools, or heroes, +I say not which—they decided to do something in the interest +of science. They were of the belief that human beings were becoming +poor in type. So they determined to marry—"</p> +<p>"Naturally," said I, seeking to relieve a delicate +situation—"they scorned the marriage of +convenience—they came to our American way of thinking, that +they would marry for love."</p> +<p>"You do them too much credit!" said she slowly. "That would have +meant no sacrifice on either side. They married in the interest of +<i>science!</i> They married with the deliberate intention of +improving individuals of the human species! Father, is it not +so?"</p> +<p>Some speech stumbled on his tongue; but she raised her hand. +"Listen to me. I will be fair to you, fairer than you were either +to yourself or to my mother.</p> +<p>"Yes, these six concluded to improve the grade of human animals! +They resolved to marry <i>among the peasantry</i>—because +thus they could select finer specimens of womankind, younger, +stronger, more fit to bring children into the world. Is not that +the truth, my father?"</p> +<p>"It wass the way we thought," he whispered. "It wass the way we +thought wass wise."</p> +<p>"And perhaps it was wise. It was selection. So now they +selected. Two of them married German working girls, and those two +are dead, but there is no child of them alive. Two married in +Austria, and of these one died, and the other is in a mad house. +One married a young Galician girl, and so fond of her did he become +that she took him down from his station to hers, and he was lost. +The other—"</p> +<p>"Yes; it was my father," she said, at length. "There he sits, my +father. Yes, I love him. I would forfeit my life for him +now—I would lay it down gladly for him. Better had I done so. +But in my time I have hated him.</p> +<p>"He, the last one, searched long for this fitting animal to lead +to the altar. He was tall and young and handsome and rich, do you +see? He could have chosen among his own people any woman he liked. +Instead, he searched among the Galicians, the lower Austrians, the +Prussians. He examined Bavaria and Saxony. Many he found, but still +none to suit his scientific ideas. He bethought him then of +searching among the Hungarians, where, it is said, the most +beautiful women of the world are found. So at last he found her, +that peasant, <i>my mother!</i>"</p> +<p>The silence in the room was broken at last by her low, even, +hopeless voice as she went on.</p> +<p>"Now the Hungarians are slaves to Austria. They do as they are +bid, those who live on the great estates. They have no hope. If +they rebel, they are cut down. They are not a people. They belong +to no one, not even to themselves."</p> +<p>"My God!" said I, a sigh breaking from me in spite of myself. I +raised my hand as though to beseech her not to go on. But she +persisted.</p> +<p>"Yes, we, too, called upon <i>our</i> gods! So, now, my father +came among that people and found there a young girl, one much +younger than himself. She was the most beautiful, so they say, of +all those people, many of whom are very beautiful."</p> +<p>"Yes—proof of that!" said I. She knew I meant no idle +flattery.</p> +<p>"Yes, she was beautiful. But at first she did not fancy to marry +this Austrian student nobleman. She said no to him, even when she +found who he was and what was his station—even when she found +that he meant her no dishonor. But our ruler heard of it, and, +being displeased at this mockery of the traditions of the court, +and wishing in his sardonic mind to teach these fanatical young +nobles to rue well their bargain, he sent word to the girl that she +<i>must</i> marry this man—my father. It was made an imperial +order!</p> +<p>"And so now, at last, since he was half crazed by her beauty, as +men are sometimes by the beauty of women, and since at last this +had its effect with her, as sometimes it does with women, and since +it was perhaps death or some severe punishment if she did not obey, +she married him—my father."</p> +<p>"And loved me all her life!" the old man broke out. "Nefer had +man love like hers, I will haf it said. I will haf it said that she +loved me, always and always; and I loved <i>her</i> always, with +all my heart!"</p> +<p>"Yes," said Helena von Ritz, "they two loved each other, even as +they were. So here am I, born of that love."</p> +<p>Now we all sat silent for a time. "That birth was at my father's +estates," resumed the same even, merciless voice. "After some short +time of travels, they returned to the estates; and, yes, there I +was born, half noble, half peasant; and then there began the most +cruel thing the world has ever known.</p> +<p>"The nobles of the court and of the country all around began to +make existence hideous for my mother. The aristocracy, insulted by +the republicanism of these young noblemen, made life a hell for the +most gentle woman of Hungary. Ah, they found new ways to make her +suffer. They allowed her to share in my father's estate, allowed +her to appear with him when he could prevail upon her to do so. +Then they twitted and taunted her and mocked her in all the +devilish ways of their class. She was more beautiful than any court +beauty of them all, and they hated her for that. She had a good +mind, and they hated her for that. She had a faithful, loyal heart, +and they hated her for that. And in ways more cruel than any man +will ever know, women and men made her feel that hate, plainly and +publicly, made her admit that she was chosen as breeding stock and +nothing better. Ah, it was the jest of Europe, for a time. They +insulted my mother, and that became the jest of the court, of all +Vienna. She dared not go alone from the castle. She dared not +travel alone."</p> +<p>"But your father resented this?"</p> +<p>She nodded. "Duel after duel he fought, man after man he killed, +thanks to his love for her and his manhood. He would not release +what he loved. He would not allow his class to separate him from +his choice. But the <i>women!</i> Ah, he could not fight them! So I +have hated women, and made war on them all my life. My father could +not placate his Emperor. So, in short, that scientific experiment +ended in misery—and me!"</p> +<p>The room had grown dimmer. The sun was sinking as she talked. +There was silence, I know, for a long time before she spoke +again.</p> +<p>"In time, then, my father left his estates and went out to a +small place in the country; but my mother—her heart was +broken. Malice pursued her. Those who were called her superiors +would not let her alone. See, he weeps, my father, as he thinks of +these things.</p> +<p>"There was cause, then, to weep. For two years, they tell me, my +mother wept Then she died. She gave me, a baby, to her friend, a +woman of her village—Threlka Mazoff. You have seen her. She +has been my mother ever since. She has been the sole guardian I +have known all my life. She has not been able to do with me as she +would have liked."</p> +<p>"You did not live at your own home with your father?" I +asked.</p> +<p>"For a time. I grew up. But my father, I think, was permanently +shocked by the loss of the woman he had loved and whom he had +brought into all this cruelty. She had been so lovable, so +beautiful—she was so beautiful, my mother! So they sent me +away to France, to the schools. I grew up, I presume, proof in part +of the excellence of my father's theory. They told me that I was a +beautiful animal!"</p> +<p>The contempt, the scorn, the pathos—the whole tragedy of +her voice and bearing—were such as I can not set down on +paper, and such as I scarce could endure to hear. Never in my life +before have I felt such pity for a human being, never so much +desire to do what I might in sheer compassion.</p> +<p>But now, how clear it all became to me! I could understand many +strange things about the character of this singular woman, her +whims, her unaccountable moods, her seeming carelessness, yet, +withal, her dignity and sweetness and air of breeding—above +all her mysteriousness. Let others judge her for themselves. There +was only longing in my heart that I might find some word of +comfort. What could comfort her? Was not life, indeed, for her to +remain a perpetual tragedy?</p> +<p>"But, Madam," said I, at length, "you must not wrong your father +and your mother and yourself. These two loved each other devotedly. +Well, what more? You are the result of a happy marriage. You are +beautiful, you are splendid, by that reason."</p> +<p>"Perhaps. Even when I was sixteen, I was beautiful," she mused. +"I have heard rumors of that. But I say to you that then I was only +a beautiful animal. Also, I was a vicious animal I had in my heart +all the malice which my mother never spoke. I felt in my soul the +wish to injure women, to punish men, to torment them, to make them +pay! To set even those balances of torture!—ah, that was my +ambition! I had not forgotten that, when I first met you, when I +first heard of—her, the woman whom you love, whom already in +your savage strong way you have wedded—the woman whose vows I +spoke with her—I—I, Helena von Ritz, with history such +as mine!</p> +<p>"Father, father,"—she turned to him swiftly; +"rise—go! I can not now speak before you. Leave us alone +until I call!"</p> +<p>Obedient as though he had been the child and she the parent, the +old man rose and tottered feebly from the room.</p> +<p>"There are things a woman can not say in the presence of a +parent," she said, turning to me. Her face twitched. "It takes all +my bravery to talk to you."</p> +<p>"Why should you? There is not need. Do not!"</p> +<p>"Ah, I must, because it is fair," said she. "I have lost, lost! +I told you I would pay my wager."</p> +<p>After a time she turned her face straight toward mine and went +on with her old splendid bravery.</p> +<p>"So, now, you see, when I was young and beautiful I had rank and +money. I had brains. I had hatred of men. I had contempt for the +aristocracy. My heart was peasant after all. My principles were +those of the republican. Revolution was in my soul, I say. +Thwarted, distorted, wretched, unscrupulous, I did what I could to +make hell for those who had made hell for us. I have set dozens of +men by the ears. I have been promised in marriage to I know not how +many. A dozen men have fought to the death in duels over me. For +each such death I had not even a thought. The more troubles I made, +the happier I was. Oh, yes, in time I became known—I had a +reputation; there is no doubt of that.</p> +<p>"But still the organized aristocracy had its revenge—it +had its will of me, after all. There came to me, as there had to my +mother, an imperial order. In punishment for my fancies and +vagaries, I was condemned to marry a certain nobleman. That was the +whim of the new emperor, Ferdinand, the degenerate. He took the +throne when I was but sixteen years of age. He chose for me a +degenerate mate from his own sort." She choked, now.</p> +<p>"You did marry him?"</p> +<p>She nodded. "Yes. Debauché, rake, monster, degenerate, +product of that aristocracy which had oppressed us, I was obliged +to marry him, a man three times my age! I pleaded. I begged. I was +taken away by night. I was—I was—They say I was married +to him. For myself, I did not know where I was or what happened. +But after that they said that I was the wife of this man, a sot, a +monster, the memory only of manhood. Now, indeed, the revenge of +the aristocracy was complete!"</p> +<p>She went on at last in a voice icy cold. "I fled one night, back +to Hungary. For a month they could not find me. I was still young. +I saw my people then as I had not before. I saw also the monarchies +of Europe. Ah, now I knew what oppression meant! Now I knew what +class distinction and special privileges meant! I saw what ruin it +was spelling for our country—what it will spell for your +country, if they ever come to rule here. Ah, then that dream came +to me which had come to my father, that beautiful dream which +justified me in everything I did. My friend, can it—can it in +part justify me—now?</p> +<p>"For the first time, then, I resolved to live! I have loved my +father ever since that time. I pledged myself to continue that work +which he had undertaken! I pledged myself to better the condition +of humanity if I might.</p> +<p>"There was no hope for me. I was condemned and ruined as it was. +My life was gone. Such as I had left, that I resolved to give +to—what shall we call it?-the <i>idée +démocratique</i>.</p> +<p>"Now, may God rest my mother's soul, and mine also, so that some +time I may see her in another world—I pray I may be good +enough for that some time. I have not been sweet and sinless as was +my mother. Fate laid a heavier burden upon me. But what remained +with me throughout was the idea which my father had bequeathed +me—"</p> +<p>"Ah, but also that beauty and sweetness and loyalty which came +to you from your mother," I insisted.</p> +<p>She shook her head. "Wait!" she said. "Now they pursued me as +though I had been a criminal, and they took me back—horsemen +about me who did as they liked. I was, I say, a sacrifice. News of +this came to that man who was my husband. They shamed him into +fighting. He had not the courage of the nobles left. But he heard +of one nobleman against whom he had a special grudge; and him one +night, foully and unfairly, he murdered.</p> +<p>"News of that came to the Emperor. My husband was tried, and, +the case being well known to the public, it was necessary to +convict him for the sake of example. Then, on the day set for his +beheading, the Emperor reprieved him. The hour for the execution +passed, and, being now free for the time, he fled the country. He +went to Africa, and there he so disgraced the state that bore him +that of late times I hear he has been sent for to come back to +Austria. Even yet the Emperor may suspend the reprieve and send him +to the block for his ancient crime. If he had a thousand heads, he +could not atone for the worse crimes he has done!</p> +<p>"But of him, and of his end, I know nothing. So, now, you see, I +was and am wed, and yet am not wed, and never was. I do not know +what I am, nor who I am. After all, I can not tell you who I am, or +what I am, because I myself do not know.</p> +<p>"It was now no longer safe for me in my own country. They would +not let me go to my father any more. As for him, he went on with +his studies, some part of his mind being bright and clear. They did +not wish him about the court now. All these matters were to be +hushed up. The court of England began to take cognizance of these +things. Our government was scandalized. They sent my father, on +pretext of scientific errands, into one country and +another—to Sweden, to England, to Africa, at last to America. +Thus it happened that you met him. You must both have been very +near to meeting me in Montreal. It was fate, as we of Hungary would +say.</p> +<p>"As for me, I was no mere hare-brained radical. I did not go to +Russia, did not join the revolutionary circles of Paris, did not +yet seek out Prussia. That is folly. My father was right. It must +be the years, it must be the good heritage, it must be the good +environment, it must be even opportunity for all, which alone can +produce good human beings! In short, believe me, a victim, <i>the +hope of the world is in a real democracy</i>. Slowly, gradually, I +was coming to believe that."</p> +<p>She paused a moment. "Then, one time, Monsieur,—I met you, +here in this very room! God pity me! You were the first man I had +ever seen. God pity me!—I believe I—loved +you—that night, that very first night! We are friends. We are +brave. You are man and gentleman, so I may say that, now. I am no +longer woman. I am but sacrifice.</p> +<p>"Opportunity must exist, open and free for all the world," she +went on, not looking at me more than I could now at her. "I have +set my life to prove this thing. When I came here to this +America—out of pique, out of a love of adventure, out of +sheer daring and exultation in imposture—<i>then</i> I saw +why I was born, for what purpose! It was to do such work as I might +to prove the theory of my father, and to justify the life of my +mother. For that thing I was born. For that thing I have been +damned on this earth; I may be damned in the life to come, unless I +can make some great atonement. For these I suffer and shall always +suffer. But what of that? There must always be a sacrifice."</p> +<p>The unspeakable tragedy of her voice cut to my soul. "But +listen!" I broke out. "You are young. You are free. All the world +is before you. You can have anything you like—"</p> +<p>"Ah, do not talk to me of that," she exclaimed imperiously. "Do +not tempt me to attempt the deceit of myself! I made myself as I +am, long ago. I did not love. I did not know it. As to marriage, I +did not need it. I had abundant means without. I was in the upper +ranks of society. I was there; I was classified; I lived with them. +But always I had my purposes, my plans. For them I paid, paid, +paid, as a woman must, with—what a woman has.</p> +<p>"But now, I am far ahead of my story. Let me bring it on. I went +to Paris. I have sown some seeds of venom, some seeds of +revolution, in one place or another in Europe in my time. Ah, it +works; it will go! Here and there I have cost a human life. Here +and there work was to be done which I disliked; but I did it. +Misguided, uncared for, mishandled as I had been—well, as I +said, I went to Paris.</p> +<p>"Ah, sir, will you not, too, leave the room, and let me tell on +this story to myself, to my own soul? It is fitter for my confessor +than for you."</p> +<p>"Let me, then, <i>be</i> your confessor!" said I. "Forget! +Forget! You have not been this which you say. Do I not know?"</p> +<p>"No, you do not know. Well, let be. Let me go on! I say I went +to Paris. I was close to the throne of France. That little Duke of +Orleans, son of Louis Philippe, was a puppet in my hands. Oh, I do +not doubt I did mischief in that court, or at least if I failed it +was through no lack of effort! I was called there 'America +Vespucci.' They thought me Italian! At last they came to know who I +was. They dared not make open rupture in the face of the courts of +Europe. Certain of their high officials came to me and my young +Duke of Orleans. They asked me to leave Paris. They did not command +it—the Duke of Orleans cared for that part of it. But they +requested me outside—not in his presence. They offered me a +price, a bribe—such an offering as would, I fancied, leave me +free to pursue my own ideas in my own fashion and in any corner of +the world. You have perhaps seen some of my little fancies. I +imagined that love and happiness were never for me—only +ambition and unrest. With these goes luxury, sometimes. At least +this sort of personal liberty was offered me—the price of +leaving Paris, and leaving the son of Louis Philippe to his own +devices. I did so."</p> +<p>"And so, then you came to Washington? That must have been some +years ago."</p> +<p>"Yes; some five years ago. I still was young. I told you that +you must have known me, and so, no doubt, you did. Did <i>you</i> +ever hear of 'America Vespucci'?"</p> +<p>A smile came to my face at the suggestion of that celebrated +adventuress and mysterious impostress who had figured in the annals +of Washington—a fair Italian, so the rumor ran, who had come +to this country to set up a claim, upon our credulity at least, as +to being the descendant of none less than Amerigo Vespucci himself! +This supposititious Italian had indeed gone so far as to secure the +introduction of a bill in Congress granting to her certain Lands. +The fate of that bill even then hung in the balance. I had no +reason to put anything beyond the audacity of this woman with whom +I spoke! My smile was simply that which marked the eventual voting +down of this once celebrated measure, as merry and as bold a jest +as ever was offered the credulity of a nation—one conceivable +only in the mad and bitter wit of Helena von Ritz!</p> +<p>"Yes, Madam," I said, "I have heard of 'America Vespucci.' I +presume that you are now about to repeat that you are she!"</p> +<p>She nodded, the mischievous enjoyment of her colossal jest +showing in her eyes, in spite of all. "Yes," said she, "among other +things, I have been 'America Vespucci'! There seemed little to do +here in intrigue, and that was my first endeavor to amuse myself. +Then I found other employment. England needed a skilful secret +agent. Why should I be faithful to England? At least, why should I +not also enjoy intrigue with yonder government of Mexico at the +same time? There came also Mr. Van Zandt of this Republic of Texas. +Yes, it is true, I have seen some sport here in Washington! But all +the time as I played in my own little game—with no one to +enjoy it save myself—I saw myself begin to lose. This +country—this great splendid country of savages—began to +take me by the hands, began to look me in the eyes, and to ask me, +'<i>Helena von Ritz, what are you? What might you have +been?</i>'</p> +<p>"So now," she concluded, "you asked me, asked me what I was, and +I have told you. I ask you myself, what am I, what am I to be; and +I say, I am unclean. But, being as I am, I have done what I have +done. It was for a principle—or it was—for you! I do +not know."</p> +<p>"There are those who can be nothing else but clean," I broke +out. "I shall not endure to hear you speak thus of yourself. +You—you, what have you not done for us? Was not your mother +clean in her heart? Sins such as you mention were never those of +scarlet. If you have sinned, your sins are white as snow. I at +least am confessor enough to tell you that."</p> +<p>"Ah, my confessor!" She reached out her hands to me, her eyes +swimming wet. Then she pushed me back suddenly, beating with her +little hands upon my breast as though I were an enemy. "Do not!" +she said. "Go!"</p> +<p>My eye caught sight of the great key, <i>Pakenham's key</i>, +lying there on the table. Maddened, I caught it up, and, with a +quick wrench of my naked hands, broke it in two, and threw the +halves on the floor to join the torn scroll of England's +pledge.</p> +<p>I divided Oregon at the forty-ninth parallel, and not at +fifty-four forty, when I broke Pakenham's key. But you shall see +why I have never regretted that.</p> +<p>"Ask Sir Richard Pakenham if he wants his key <i>now!</i>" I +said.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER +XXXIV</h2> +<h3>THE VICTORY</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>She will not stay the siege of loving terms,<br /> +Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,<br /> +Nor ope her lap to soul-seducing gold ...<br /> +For she is wise, if I can judge of her;<br /> +And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true;<br /> +And true she is, as she hath proved herself.<br /> +<span style= +"margin-left: 18.5em;">—<i>Shakespeare</i>.</span></p> +</div> +<p>"What have you done?" she exclaimed. "Are you mad? He may be +here at any moment now. Go, at once!"</p> +<p>"I shall not go!"</p> +<p>"My house is my own! I am my own!"</p> +<p>"You know it is not true, Madam!"</p> +<p>I saw the slow shudder that crossed her form, the the fringe of +wet which sprang to her eyelashes. Again the pleading gesture of +her half-open fingers.</p> +<p>"Ah, what matter?" she said. "It is only one woman more, against +so much. What is past, is past, Monsieur. Once down, a woman does +not rise."</p> +<p>"You forget history,—you forget the thief upon the +cross!"</p> +<p>"The thief on the cross was not a woman. No, I am guilty beyond +hope!"</p> +<p>"Rather, you are only mad beyond reason, Madam. I shall not go +so long as you feel thus,—although God knows I am no +confessor."</p> +<p>"I confessed to you,—told you my story, so there could be +no bridge across the gulf between us. My happiness ended then."</p> +<p>"It is of no consequence that we be happy, Madam. I give you +back your own words about yon torch of principles."</p> +<p>For a time she sat and looked at me steadily. There was, I say, +some sort of radiance on her face, though I, dull of wit, could +neither understand nor describe it. I only knew that she seemed to +ponder for a long time, seemed to resolve at last. Slowly she rose +and left me, parting the satin draperies which screened her boudoir +from the outer room. There was silence for some time. Perhaps she +prayed,—I do not know.</p> +<p>Now other events took this situation in hand. I heard a footfall +on the walk, a cautious knocking on the great front door. So, my +lord Pakenham was prompt. Now I could not escape even if I +liked.</p> +<p>Pale and calm, she reappeared at the parted draperies. I lifted +the butts of my two derringers into view at my side pockets, and at +a glance from her, hurriedly stepped into the opposite room. After +a time I heard her open the door in response to a second knock.</p> +<p>I could not see her from my station, but the very silence gave +me a picture of her standing, pale, forbidding, rebuking the first +rude exclamation of his ardor.</p> +<p>"Come now, is he gone? Is the place safe at last?" he +demanded.</p> +<p>"Enter, my lord," she said simply.</p> +<p>"This is the hour you said," he began; and she answered:</p> +<p>"My lord, it is the hour."</p> +<p>"But come, what's the matter, then? You act solemn, as though +this were a funeral, and not—just a kiss," I heard him +add.</p> +<p>He must have advanced toward her. Continually I was upon the +point of stepping out from my concealment, but as continually she +left that not quite possible by some word or look or gesture of her +own with him.</p> +<p>"Oh, hang it!" I heard him grumble, at length; "how can one tell +what a woman'll do? Damn it, Helen!"</p> +<p>"'Madam,' you mean!"</p> +<p>"Well, then, Madam, why all this hoighty-toighty? Haven't I +stood flouts and indignities enough from you? Didn't you make a +show of me before that ass, Tyler, when I was at the very point of +my greatest coup? You denied knowledge that I knew you had. But did +I discard you for that? I have found you since then playing with +Mexico, Texas, United States all at once? Have I punished you for +<i>that?</i> No, I have only shown you the more regard."</p> +<p>"My lord, you punish me most when you most show me your +regard."</p> +<p>"Well, God bless my soul, listen at that! Listen at +that—here, now, when I've—Madam, you shock me, you +grieve me. I—could I have a glass of wine?"</p> +<p>I heard her ring for Threlka, heard her fasten the door behind +her as she left, heard him gulp over his glass. For myself, +although I did not yet disclose myself, I felt no doubt that I +should kill Pakenham in these rooms. I even pondered whether I +should shoot him through the temple and cut off his consciousness, +or through the chest and so let him know why he died.</p> +<p>After a time he seemed to look about the room, his eye falling +upon the littered floor.</p> +<p>"My key!" he exclaimed; "broken! Who did that? I can't use it +now!"</p> +<p>"You will not need to use it, my lord."</p> +<p>"But I bought it, yesterday! Had I given you all of the Oregon +country it would not have been worth twenty thousand pounds. What +I'll have to-night—what I'll take—will be worth twice +that. But I bought that key, and what I buy I keep."</p> +<p>I heard a struggle, but she repulsed him once more in some way. +Still my time had not come. He seemed now to stoop, grunting, to +pick up something from the floor.</p> +<p>"How now? My memorandum of treaty, and torn in two! Oh, I +see—I see," he mused. "You wish to give it back to +me—to be wholly free! It means only that you wish to love me +for myself, for what I am! You minx!"</p> +<p>"You mistake, my lord," said her calm, cold voice.</p> +<p>"At least, 'twas no mistake that I offered you this damned +country at risk of my own head. Are you then with England and Sir +Richard Pakenham? Will you give my family a chance for revenge on +these accursed heathen—these Americans? Come, do that, and I +leave this place with you, and quit diplomacy for good. We'll +travel the continent, we'll go the world over, you and I. I'll quit +my estates, my family for you. Come, now, why do you delay?"</p> +<p>"Still you misunderstand, my lord."</p> +<p>"Tell me then what you do mean."</p> +<p>"Our old bargain over this is broken, my lord. We must make +another."</p> +<p>His anger rose. "What? You want more? You're trying to lead me +on with your damned courtezan tricks!"</p> +<p>I heard her voice rise high and shrill, even as I started +forward.</p> +<p>"Monsieur," she cried, "back with you!"</p> +<p>Pakenham, angered as he was, seemed half to hear my footsteps, +seemed half to know the swinging of the draperies, even as I +stepped back in obedience to her gesture. Her wit was quick as +ever.</p> +<p>"My lord," she said, "pray close yonder window. The draft is +bad, and, moreover, we should have secrecy." He obeyed her, and she +led him still further from the thought of investigating his +surroundings.</p> +<p>"Now, my lord," she said, "<i>take back</i> what you have just +said!"</p> +<p>"Under penalty?" he sneered.</p> +<p>"Of your life, yes."</p> +<p>"So!" he grunted admiringly; "well, now, I like fire in a woman, +even a deceiving light-o'-love like you!"</p> +<p>"Monsieur!" her voice cried again; and once more it restrained +me in my hiding.</p> +<p>"You devil!" he resumed, sneering now in all his ugliness of +wine and rage and disappointment. "What were <i>you?</i> Mistress +of the prince of France! Toy of a score of nobles! Slave of that +infamous rake, your husband! Much you've got in your life to make +you uppish now with me!"</p> +<p>"My lord," she said evenly, "retract that. If you do not, you +shall not leave this place alive."</p> +<p>In some way she mastered him, even in his ugly mood.</p> +<p>"Well, well," he growled, "I admit we don't get on very well in +our little love affair; but I swear you drive me out of my mind. +I'll never find another woman in the world like you. It's Sir +Richard Pakenham asks you to begin a new future with himself."</p> +<p>"We begin no future, my lord."</p> +<p>"What do you mean? Have you lied to me? Do you mean to break +your word—your promise?"</p> +<p>"It is within the hour that I have learned what the truth +is."</p> +<p>"God damn my soul!" I heard him curse, growling.</p> +<p>"Yes, my lord," she answered, "God will damn your soul in so far +as it is that of a brute and not that of a gentleman or a +statesman."</p> +<p>I heard him drop into a chair. "This from one of your sort!" he +half whimpered.</p> +<p>"Stop, now!" she cried. "Not one word more of that! I say within +the hour I have learned what is the truth. I am Helena von Ritz, +thief on the cross, and at last clean!"</p> +<p>"God A'might, Madam! How pious!" he sneered. "Something's behind +all this. I know your record. What woman of the court of Austria or +France comes out with <i>morals?</i> We used you here because you +had none. And now, when it comes to the settlement between you and +me, you talk like a nun. As though a trifle from virtue such as +yours would be missed!"</p> +<p>"Ah, my God!" I heard her murmur. Then again she called to me, +as he thought to himself; so that all was as it had been, for the +time.</p> +<p>A silence fell before she went on.</p> +<p>"Sir Richard," she said at length, "we do not meet again. I +await now your full apology for these things you have said. Such +secrets as I have learned of England's, you know will remain safe +with me. Also your own secret will be safe. Retract, then, what you +have said, of my personal life!"</p> +<p>"Oh, well, then," he grumbled, "I admit I've had a bit of wine +to-day. I don't mean much of anything by it. But here now, I have +come, and by your own invitation—your own agreement. Being +here, I find this treaty regarding Oregon torn in two and you gone +nun all a-sudden."</p> +<p>"Yes, my lord, it is torn in two. The consideration moving to it +was not valid. But now I wish you to amend that treaty once more, +and for a consideration valid in every way. My lord, I promised +that which was not mine to give—myself! Did you lay hand on +me now, I should die. If you kissed me, I should kill you and +myself! As you say, I took yonder price, the devil's shilling. Did +I go on, I would be enlisting for the damnation of my soul; but I +will not go on. I recant!"</p> +<p>"But, good God! woman, what are you asking <i>now?</i> Do you +want me to let you have this paper anyhow, to show old John +Calhoun? I'm no such ass as that. I apologize for what I've said +about you. I'll be your friend, because I can't let you go. But as +to this paper here, I'll put it in my pocket."</p> +<p>"My lord, you will do nothing of the kind. Before you leave this +room there shall be two miracles done. You shall admit that one has +gone on in me; I shall see that you yourself have done +another."</p> +<p>"What guessing game do you propose, Madam?" he sneered. He +seemed to toss the torn paper on the table, none the less. "The +condition is forfeited," he began.</p> +<p>"No, it is not forfeited except by your own word, my lord," +rejoined the same even, icy voice. "You shall see now the first +miracle!"</p> +<p>"Under duress?" he sneered again.</p> +<p>"<i>Yes</i>, then! Under duress of what has not often come to +surface in you, Sir Richard. I ask you to do truth, and not +treason, my lord! She who was Helena von Ritz is dead—has +passed away. There can be no question of forfeit between you and +her. Look, my lord!"</p> +<p>I heard a half sob from him. I heard a faint rustling of silks +and laces. Still her even, icy voice went on.</p> +<p>"Rise, now, Sir Richard," she said. "Unfasten my girdle, if you +like! Undo my clasps, if you can. You say you know my past. Tell +me, do you see me now? Ungird me, Sir Richard! Look at me! Covet +me! Take me!"</p> +<p>Apparently he half rose, shuffled towards her, and stopped with +a stifled sound, half a sob, half a growl.</p> +<p>I dared not picture to myself what he must have seen as she +stood fronting him, her hands, as I imagined, at her bosom, tearing +back her robes.</p> +<p>Again I heard her voice go on, challenging him. "Strip me now, +Sir Richard, if you can! Take now what you bought, if you find it +here. You can not? You do not? Ah, then tell me that miracle has +been done! She who was Helena von Ritz, as you knew her, or as you +thought you knew her, <i>is not here!</i>"</p> +<p>Now fell long silence. I could hear the breathing of them both, +where I stood in the farther corner of my room. I had dropped both +the derringers back in my pockets now, because I knew there would +be no need for them. Her voice was softer as she went on.</p> +<p>"Tell me, Sir Richard, has not that miracle been done?" she +demanded. "Might not in great stress that thief upon the cross have +been a woman? Tell me, Sir Richard, am I not clean?"</p> +<p>He flung his body into a seat, his arm across the table. I heard +his groan.</p> +<p>"God! Woman! What are you?" he exclaimed. "Clean? By God, yes, +as a lily! I wish I were half as white myself."</p> +<p>"Sir Richard, did you ever love a woman?"</p> +<p>"One other, beside yourself, long ago."</p> +<p>"May not we two ask that other miracle of yourself?"</p> +<p>"How do you mean? You have beaten me already."</p> +<p>"Why, then, this! If I could keep my promise, I would. If I +could give you myself, I would. Failing that, I may give you +gratitude. Sir Richard, I would give you gratitude, did you restore +this treaty as it was, for that new consideration. Come, now, these +savages here are the same savages who once took that little island +for you yonder. Twice they have defeated you. Do you wish a third +war? You say England wishes slavery abolished. As you know, Texas +is wholly lost to England. The armies of America have swept Texas +from your reach for ever, even at this hour. But if you give a new +state in the north to these same savages, you go so far against +oppression, against slavery—you do <i>that</i> much for the +doctrine of England, and her altruism in the world. Sir Richard, +never did I believe in hard bargains, and never did any great soul +believe in such. I own to you that when I asked you here this +afternoon I intended to wheedle from you all of Oregon north to +fifty-four degrees, forty minutes. I find in you done some such +miracle as in myself. Neither of us is so bad as the world has +thought, as we ourselves have thought. Do then, that other miracle +for me. Let us compose our quarrel, and so part friends."</p> +<p>"How do you mean, Madam?"</p> +<p>"Let us divide our dispute, and stand on this treaty as you +wrote it yesterday. Sir Richard, you are minister with +extraordinary powers. Your government ratifies your acts without +question. Your signature is binding—and there it is, writ +already on this scroll. See, there are wafers there on the table +before you. Take them. Patch together this treaty for me. That will +be <i>your</i> miracle, Sir Richard, and 'twill be the mending of +our quarrel. Sir, I offered you my body and you would not take it. +I offer you my hand. Will you have <i>that</i>, my lord? I ask this +of a gentleman of England."</p> +<p>It was not my right to hear the sounds of a man's shame and +humiliation; or of his rising resolve, of his reformed manhood; but +I did hear it all. I think that he took her hand and kissed it. +Presently I heard some sort of shufflings and crinkling of paper on +the table. I heard him sigh, as though he stood and looked at his +work. His heavy footfalls crossed the room as though he sought hat +and stick. Her lighter feet, as I heard, followed him, as though +she held out both her hands to him. There was a pause, and yet +another; and so, with a growling half sob, at last he passed out +the door; and she closed it softly after him.</p> +<p>When I entered, she was standing, her arms spread out across the +door, her face pale, her eyes large and dark, her attire still +disarrayed. On the table, as I saw, lay a parchment, mended with +wafers.</p> +<p>Slowly she came, and put her two arms across my shoulders. +"Monsieur!" she said, "Monsieur!"</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> +<h3>THE PROXY OF PAKENHAM</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>A man can not possess anything that is better than a good woman, +nor anything that is worse than a bad +one.—<i>Simonides</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>When I reached the central part of the city, I did not hasten +thence to Elmhurst Mansion. Instead, I returned to my hotel. I did +not now care to see any of my friends or even to take up matters of +business with my chief. It is not for me to tell what feelings came +to me when I left Helena von Ritz.</p> +<p>Sleep such as I could gain, reflections such as were inevitable, +occupied me for all that night. It was mid-morning of the following +day when finally I once more sought out Mr. Calhoun.</p> +<p>He had not expected me, but received me gladly. It seemed that +he had gone on about his own plans and with his own methods. "The +Señora Yturrio is doing me the honor of an early morning +call," he began. "She is with my daughter in another part of the +house. As there is matter of some importance to come up, I shall +ask you to attend."</p> +<p>He despatched a servant, and presently the lady mentioned joined +us. She was a pleasing picture enough in her robe of black laces +and sulphur-colored silks, but her face was none too happy, and her +eyes, it seemed to me, bore traces either of unrest or tears. Mr. +Calhoun handed her to a chair, where she began to use her languid +but effective fan.</p> +<p>"Now, it gives us the greatest regret, my dear Señora," +began Mr. Calhoun, "to have General Almonte and your husband return +to their own country. We have valued, their presence here very +much, and I regret the disruption of the friendly relations between +our countries."</p> +<p>She made any sort of gesture with her fan, and he went on: "It +is the regret also of all, my dear lady, that your husband seems so +shamelessly to have abandoned you. I am quite aware, if you will +allow me to be so frank, that you need some financial +assistance."</p> +<p>"My country is ruined," said she. "Also, Señor, I am +ruined. As you say, I have no means of life. I have not even money +to secure my passage home. That Señor Van Zandt—"</p> +<p>"Yes, Van Zandt did much for us, through your agency, +Señora. We have benefited by that, and I therefore regret he +proved faithless to you personally. I am sorry to tell you that he +has signified his wish to join our army against your country. I +hear also that your late friend, Mr. Polk, has forgotten most of +his promises to you."</p> +<p>"Him I hate also!" she broke out. "He broke his promise to +Señor Van Zandt, to my husband, to me!"</p> +<p>Calhoun smiled in his grim fashion. "I am not surprised to hear +all that, my dear lady, for you but point out a known +characteristic of that gentleman. He has made me many promises +which he has forgotten, and offered me even of late distinguished +honors which he never meant me to accept. But, since I have been +personally responsible for many of these things which have gone +forward, I wish to make what personal amends I can; and ever I +shall thank you for the good which you have done to this country. +Believe me, Madam, you served your own country also in no ill +manner. This situation could not have been prevented, and it is not +your fault. I beg you to believe that. Had you and I been left +alone there would have been no war."</p> +<p>"But I am poor, I have nothing!" she rejoined.</p> +<p>There was indeed much in her situation to excite sympathy. It +had been through her own act that negotiations between England and +Texas were broken off. All chance of Mexico to regain property in +Texas was lost through her influence with Van Zandt. Now, when all +was done, here she was, deserted even by those who had been her +allies in this work.</p> +<p>"My dear Señora," said John Calhoun, becoming less formal +and more kindly, "you shall have funds sufficient to make you +comfortable at least for a time after your return to Mexico. I am +not authorized to draw upon our exchequer, and you, of course, must +prefer all secrecy in these matters. I regret that my personal +fortune is not so large as it might be, but, in such measure as I +may, I shall assist you, because I know you need assistance. In +return, you must leave this country. The flag is down which once +floated over the house of Mexico here."</p> +<p>She hid her face behind her fan, and Calhoun turned aside.</p> +<p>"Señora, have you ever seen this slipper?" he asked, +suddenly placing upon the table the little shoe which for a purpose +I had brought with me and meantime thrown upon the table.</p> +<p>She flashed a dark look, and did not speak.</p> +<p>"One night, some time ago, your husband pursued a lady across +this town to get possession of that very slipper and its contents! +There was in the toe of that little shoe a message. As you know, we +got from it certain information, and therefore devised certain +plans, which you have helped us to carry out. Now, as perhaps you +have had some personal animus against the other lady in these same +complicated affairs, I have taken the liberty of sending a special +messenger to ask her presence here this morning. I should like you +two to meet, and, if that be possible, to part with such friendship +as may exist in the premises."</p> +<p>I looked suddenly at Mr. Calhoun. It seemed he was planning +without my aid.</p> +<p>"Yes," he said to me, smiling, "I have neglected to mention to +you that the Baroness von Ritz also is here, in another apartment +of this place. If you please, I shall now send for her also."</p> +<p>He signaled to his old negro attendant. Presently the latter +opened the door, and with a deep bow announced the Baroness von +Ritz, who entered, followed closely by Mr. Calhoun's inseparable +friend, old Doctor Ward.</p> +<p>The difference in breeding between these two women was to be +seen at a glance. The Doña Lucrezia was beautiful in a way, +but lacked the thoroughbred quality which comes in the highest +types of womanhood. Afflicted by nothing but a somewhat mercenary +or personal grief, she showed her lack of gameness in adversity. On +the other hand, Helena von Ritz, who had lived tragedy all her +life, and now was in the climax of such tragedy, was smiling and +debonaire as though she had never been anything but wholly content +with life! She was robed now in some light filmy green material, +caught up here and there on the shoulders and secured with silken +knots. Her white neck showed, her arms were partly bare with the +short sleeves of the time. She stood, composed and easy, a figure +fit for any company or any court, and somewhat shaming our little +assembly, which never was a court at all, only a private meeting in +the office of a discredited and disowned leader in a republican +government. Her costume and her bearing were Helena von Ritz's +answer to a woman's fate! A deep color flamed in her cheeks. She +stood with head erect and lips smiling brilliantly. Her curtsey was +grace itself. Our dingy little office was glorified.</p> +<p>"I interrupt you, gentlemen," she began.</p> +<p>"On the contrary, I am sure, my dear lady," said Doctor Ward, +"Senator Calhoun told me he wished you to meet Señora +Yturrio."</p> +<p>"Yes," resumed Calhoun, "I was just speaking with this lady over +some matters concerned with this Little slipper." He smiled as he +held it up gingerly between thumb and finger. "Do you recognize it, +Madam Baroness?"</p> +<p>"Ah, my little shoe!" she exclaimed. "But see, it has not been +well cared for."</p> +<p>"It traveled in my war bag from Oregon to Washington," said I. +"Perhaps bullet molds and powder flasks may have damaged it."</p> +<p>"It still would serve as a little post-office, perhaps," laughed +the baroness. "But I think its days are done on such errands."</p> +<p>"I will explain something of these errands to the Señora +Yturrio," said Calhoun. "I wish you personally to say to that lady, +if you will, that Señor Yturrio regarded this little +receptacle rather as official than personal post."</p> +<p>For one moment these two women looked at each other, with that +on their faces which would be hard to describe. At last the +baroness spoke:</p> +<p>"It is not wholly my fault, Señora Yturrio, if your +husband gave you cause to think there was more than diplomacy +between us. At least, I can say to you that it was the sport of it +alone, the intrigue, if you please, which interested me. I trust +you will not accuse me beyond this."</p> +<p>A stifled exclamation came from the Doña Lucrezia. I have +never seen more sadness nor yet more hatred on a human face than +hers displayed. I have said that she was not thoroughbred. She +arose now, proud as ever, it is true, but vicious. She declined +Helena von Ritz's outstretched hand, and swept us a curtsey. +"<i>Adios!</i>" said she. "I go!"</p> +<p>Mr. Calhoun gravely offered her an arm; and so with a rustle of +her silks there passed from our lives one unhappy lady who helped +make our map for us.</p> +<p>The baroness herself turned. "I ought not to remain," she +hesitated.</p> +<p>"Madam," said Mr. Calhoun, "we can not spare you yet."</p> +<p>She flashed upon him a keen look. "It is a young country," said +she, "but it raises statesmen. You foolish, dear Americans! One +could have loved you all."</p> +<p>"Eh, what?" said Doctor Ward, turning to her. "My dear lady, two +of us are too old for that; and as for the other—"</p> +<p>He did not know how hard this chance remark might smite, but as +usual Helena von Ritz was brave and smiling.</p> +<p>"You are men," said she, "such as we do not have in our courts +of Europe. Men and women—that is what this country +produces."</p> +<p>"Madam," said Calhoun, "I myself am a very poor sort of man. I +am old, and I fail from month to month. I can not live long, at +best. What you see in me is simply a purpose—a purpose to +accomplish something for my country—a purpose which my +country itself does not desire to see fulfilled. Republics do not +reward us. What <i>you</i> say shall be our chief reward. I have +asked you here also to accept the thanks of all of us who know the +intricacies of the events which have gone forward. Madam, we owe +you Texas! 'Twas not yonder lady, but yourself, who first advised +of the danger that threatened us. Hers was, after all, a simpler +task than yours, because she only matched faiths with Van Zandt, +representative of Texas, who had faith in neither men, women nor +nations. Had all gone well, we might perhaps have owed you yet +more, for Oregon."</p> +<p>"Would you like Oregon?" she asked, looking at him with the full +glance of her dark eyes.</p> +<p>"More than my life! More than the life of myself and all my +friends and family! More than all my fortune!" His voice rang clear +and keen as that of youth.</p> +<p>"All of Oregon?" she asked.</p> +<p>"All? We do not own all! Perhaps we do not deserve it. Surely we +could not expect it. Why, if we got one-half of what that fellow +Polk is claiming, we should do well enough—that is more than +we deserve or could expect. With our army already at war on the +Southwest, England, as we all know, is planning to take advantage +of our helplessness in Oregon."</p> +<p>Without further answer, she held out to him a document whose +appearance I, at least, recognized.</p> +<p>"I am but a woman," she said, "but it chances that I have been +able to do this country perhaps something of a favor. Your +assistant, Mr. Trist, has done me in his turn a favor. This much I +will ask permission to do for him."</p> +<p>Calhoun's long and trembling fingers were nervously opening the +document. He turned to her with eyes blazing with eagerness. "<i>It +is Oregon!</i>" He dropped back into his chair.</p> +<p>"Yes," said Helena von Ritz slowly. "It is Oregon. It is bought +and paid for. It is yours!"</p> +<p>So now they all went over that document, signed by none less +than Pakenham himself, minister plenipotentiary for Great Britain. +That document exists to-day somewhere in our archives, but I do not +feel empowered to make known its full text. I would I had never +need to set down, as I have, the cost of it. These others never +knew that cost; and now they never can know, for long years since +both Calhoun and Doctor Ward have been dead and gone. I turned +aside as they examined the document which within the next few weeks +was to become public property. The red wafers which mended +it—and which she smilingly explained at Calhoun's +demand—were, as I knew, not less than red drops of blood.</p> +<p>In brief I may say that this paper stated that, in case the +United States felt disposed to reopen discussions which Mr. Polk +peremptorily had closed, Great Britain might be able to listen to a +compromise on the line of the forty-ninth parallel. This compromise +had three times been offered her by diplomacy of United States +under earlier administrations. Great Britain stated that in view of +her deep and abiding love of peace and her deep and abiding +admiration for America, she would resign her claim of all of Oregon +down to the Columbia; and more, she would accept the forty-ninth +parallel; provided she might have free navigation rights upon the +Columbia. In fact, this was precisely the memorandum of agreement +which eventually established the lines of the treaty as to Oregon +between Great Britain and the United States.</p> +<p>Mr. Calhoun is commonly credited with having brought about this +treaty, and with having been author of its terms. So he was, but +only in the singular way which in these foregoing pages I have +related. States have their price. Texas was bought by blood. +Oregon—ah, we who own it ought to prize it. None of our +territory is half so full of romance, none of it is half so clean, +as our great and bodeful far Northwest, still young in its days of +destiny.</p> +<p>"We should in time have had <i>all</i> of Oregon, perhaps," said +Mr. Calhoun; "at least, that is the talk of these fierce +politicians."</p> +<p>"But for this fresh outbreak on the Southwest there would have +been a better chance," said Helena von Ritz; "but I think, as +matters are to-day, you would be wise to accept this compromise. I +have seen your men marching, thousands of them, the grandest sight +of this century or any other. They give full base for this +compromise. Given another year, and your rifles and your plows +would make your claims still better. But this is to-day—"</p> +<p>"Believe me, Mr. Calhoun," I broke in, "your signature must go +on this."</p> +<p>"How now? Why so anxious, my son?"</p> +<p>"Because it is right!"</p> +<p>Calhoun turned to Helena von Ritz. "Has this been presented to +Mr. Buchanan, our secretary of state?" he asked.</p> +<p>"Certainly not. It has been shown to no one. I have been here in +Washington working—well, working in secret to secure this +document for you. I do this—well, I will be frank with +you—I do it for Mr. Trist. He is my friend. I wish to say to +you that he has been—a faithful—"</p> +<p>I saw her face whiten and her lips shut tight. She swayed a +little as she stood. Doctor Ward was at her side and assisted her +to a couch. For the first time the splendid courage of Helena von +Ritz seemed to fail her. She sank back, white, unconscious.</p> +<p>"It's these damned stays, John!" began Doctor Ward fiercely. +"She has fainted. Here, put her down, so. We'll bring her around in +a minute. Great Jove! I want her to <i>hear</i> us thank her. It's +splendid work she has done for us. But <i>why</i>?"</p> +<p>When, presently, under the ministrations of the old physician, +Helena von Ritz recovered her consciousness, she arose, fighting +desperately to pull herself together and get back her splendid +courage.</p> +<p>"Would you retire now, Madam?" asked Mr. Calhoun. "I have sent +for my daughter."</p> +<p>"No, no. It is nothing!" she said. "Forgive me, it is only an +old habit of mine. See, I am quite well!"</p> +<p>Indeed, in a few moments she had regained something of that +magnificent energy which was her heritage. As though nothing had +happened, she arose and walked swiftly across the room. Her eyes +were fixed upon the great map which hung upon the walls—a +strange map it would seem to us to-day. Across this she swept a +white hand.</p> +<p>"I saw your men cross this," she said, pointing along the course +of the great Oregon Trail—whose detailed path was then +unknown to our geographers. "I saw them go west along that road of +destiny. I told myself that by virtue of their courage they had won +this war. Sometime there will come the great war between your +people and those who rule them. The people still will win."</p> +<p>She spread out her two hands top and bottom of the map. "All, +all, ought to be yours,—from the Isthmus to the ice, for the +sake of the people of the world. The people—but in time they +will have their own!"</p> +<p>We listened to her silently, crediting her enthusiasm to her +sex, her race; but what she said has remained in one mind at least +from that day to this. Well might part of her speech remain in the +minds to-day of people and rulers alike. Are we worth the price +paid for the country that we gained? And when we shall be worth +that price, what numerals shall mark our territorial lines?</p> +<p>"May I carry this document to Mr. Pakenham?" asked John Calhoun, +at last, touching the paper on the table.</p> +<p>"Please, no. Do not. Only be sure that this proposition of +compromise will meet with his acceptance."</p> +<p>"I do not quite understand why you do not go to Mr. Buchanan, +our secretary of state."</p> +<p>"Because I pay my debts," she said simply. "I told you that Mr. +Trist and I were comrades. I conceived it might be some credit for +him in his work to have been the means of doing this much."</p> +<p>"He shall have that credit, Madam, be sure of that," said John +Calhoun. He held out to her his long, thin, bloodless hand.</p> +<p>"Madam," he said, "I have been mistaken in many things. My life +will be written down as failure. I have been misjudged. But at +least it shall not be said of me that I failed to reverence a woman +such as you. All that I thought of you, that first night I met you, +was more than true. And did I not tell you you would one day, one +way, find your reward?"</p> +<p>He did not know what he said; but I knew, and I spoke with him +in the silence of my own heart, knowing that his speech would be +the same were his knowledge even with mine.</p> +<p>"To-morrow," went on Calhoun, "to-morrow evening there is to be +what we call a ball of our diplomacy at the White House. Our +administration, knowing that war is soon to be announced in the +country, seeks to make a little festival here at the capital. We +whistle to keep up our courage. We listen to music to make us +forget our consciences. To-morrow night we dance. All Washington +will be there. Baroness von Ritz, a card will come to you."</p> +<p>She swept him a curtsey, and gave him a smile.</p> +<p>"Now, as for me," he continued, "I am an old man, and long ago +danced my last dance in public. To-morrow night all of us will be +at the White House—Mr. Trist will be there, and Doctor Ward, +and a certain lady, a Miss Elisabeth Churchill, Madam, whom I shall +be glad to have you meet. You must not fail us, dear lady, because +I am going to ask of you one favor."</p> +<p>He bowed with a courtesy which might have come from generations +of an old aristocracy. "If you please, Madam, I ask you to honor me +with your hand for my first dance in years—my last dance in +all my life."</p> +<p>Impulsively she held out both her hands, bowing her head as she +did so to hide her face. Two old gray men, one younger man, took +her hands and kissed them.</p> +<p>Now our flag floats on the Columbia and on the Rio Grande. I am +older now, but when I think of that scene, I wish that flag might +float yet freer; and though the price were war itself, that it +might float over a cleaner and a nobler people, over cleaner and +nobler rulers, more sensible of the splendor of that heritage of +principle which should be ours.</p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER +XXXVI</h2> +<h3>THE PALO ALTO BALL</h3> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>A beautiful woman pleases the eye, a good woman pleases the +heart; one is a jewel, the other a treasure.—<i>Napoleon +I</i>.</p> +</div> +<p>On the evening of that following day in May, the sun hung red +and round over a distant unknown land along the Rio Grande. In that +country, no iron trails as yet had come. The magic of the wire, so +recently applied to the service of man, was as yet there unknown. +Word traveled slowly by horses and mules and carts. There came +small news from that far-off country, half tropic, covered with +palms and crooked dwarfed growth of mesquite and chaparral. The +long-horned cattle lived in these dense thickets, the spotted +jaguar, the wolf, the ocelot, the javelina, many smaller creatures +not known in our northern lands. In the loam along the stream the +deer left their tracks, mingled with those of the wild turkeys and +of countless water fowl. It was a far-off, unknown, unvalued land. +Our flag, long past the Sabine, had halted at the Nueces. Now it +was to advance across this wild region to the Rio Grande. Thus did +smug James Polk keep his promises!</p> +<p>Among these tangled mesquite thickets ran sometimes long bayous, +made from the overflow of the greater rivers—<i>resacas</i>, +as the natives call them. Tall palms sometimes grew along the +bayous, for the country is half tropic. Again, on the drier ridges, +there might be taller detached trees, heavier forests—<i>palo +alto</i>, the natives call them. In some such place as this, where +the trees were tall, there was fired the first gun of our war in +the Southwest. There were strange noises heard here in the +wilderness, followed by lesser noises, and by human groans. Some +faces that night were upturned to the moon—the same moon +which swam so gloriously over Washington. Taylor camped closer to +the Rio Grande. The fight was next to begin by the lagoon called +the Resaca de la Palma. But that night at the capital that same +moon told us nothing of all this. We did not hear the guns. It was +far from Palo Alto to our ports of Galveston or New Orleans. Our +cockaded army made its own history in its own unreported way.</p> +<p>We at the White House ball that night also made history in our +own unrecorded way. As our army was adding to our confines on the +Southwest, so there were other, though secret, forces which added +to our territory in the far Northwest. As to this and as to the +means by which it came about, I have already been somewhat +plain.</p> +<p>It was a goodly company that assembled for the grand ball, the +first one in the second season of Mr. Polk's somewhat confused and +discordant administration. Social matters had started off dour +enough. Mrs. Polk was herself of strict religious practice, and I +imagine it had taken somewhat of finesse to get her consent to +these festivities. It was called sometimes the diplomats' ball. At +least there was diplomacy back of it. It was mere accident which +set this celebration upon the very evening of the battle of Palo +Alto, May eighth, 1846.</p> +<p>By ten o'clock there were many in the great room which had been +made ready for the dancing, and rather a brave company it might +have been called. We had at least the splendor of the foreign +diplomats' uniforms for our background, and to this we added the +bravest of our attire, each one in his own individual fashion, I +fear. Thus my friend Jack Dandridge was wholly resplendent in a new +waistcoat of his own devising, and an evening coat which almost +swept the floor as he executed the evolutions of his western style +of dancing. Other gentlemen were, perhaps, more grave and staid. We +had with us at least one man, old in government service, who dared +the silk stockings and knee breeches of an earlier generation. Yet +another wore the white powdered queue, which might have been more +suited for his grandfather. The younger men of the day wore their +hair long, in fashion quite different, yet this did not detract +from the distinction of some of the faces which one might have seen +among them—some of them to sleep all too soon upturned to the +moon in another and yet more bitter war, aftermath of this with +Mexico. The tall stock was still in evidence at that time, and the +ruffled shirts gave something of a formal and old-fashioned touch +to the assembly. Such as they were, in their somewhat varied but +not uninteresting attire, the best of Washington were present. +Invitation was wholly by card. Some said that Mrs. Polk wrote these +invitations in her own hand, though this we may be permitted to +doubt.</p> +<p>Whatever might have been said as to the democratic appearance of +our gentlemen in Washington, our women were always our great +reliance, and these at least never failed to meet the approval of +the most sneering of our foreign visitors. Thus we had present that +night, as I remember, two young girls both later to become famous +in Washington society; tall and slender young Térèse +Chalfant, later to become Mrs. Pugh of Ohio, and to receive at the +hands of Denmark's minister, who knelt before her at a later public +ball, that jeweled clasp which his wife had bade him present to the +most beautiful woman he found in America. Here also was Miss +Harriet Williams of Georgetown, later to become the second wife of +that Baron Bodisco of Russia who had represented his government +with us since the year 1838—a tall, robust, blonde lady she +later grew to be. Brown's Hotel, home of many of our statesmen and +their ladies, turned out a full complement. Mr. Clay was there, +smiling, though I fear none too happy. Mr. Edward Everett, as it +chanced, was with us at that time. We had Sam Houston of Texas, who +would not, until he appeared upon the floor, relinquish the striped +blanket which distinguished him—though a splendid figure of a +man he appeared when he paced forth in evening dress, a part of +which was a waistcoat embroidered in such fancy as might have +delighted the eye of his erstwhile Indian wife had she been there +to see it. Here and there, scattered about the floor, there might +have been seen many of the public figures of America at that time, +men from North and South and East and West, and from many other +nations beside our own.</p> +<p>Under Mrs. Polk's social administration, we did not waltz, but +our ball began with a stately march, really a grand procession, in +its way distinctly interesting, in scarlet and gold and blue and +silks, and all the flowered circumstance of brocades and laces of +our ladies. And after our march we had our own polite Virginia +reel, merry as any dance, yet stately too.</p> +<p>I was late in arriving that night, for it must be remembered +that this was but my second day in town, and I had had small chance +to take my chief's advice, and to make myself presentable for an +occasion such as this. I was fresh from my tailor, and very +new-made when I entered the room. I came just in time to see what I +was glad to see; that is to say, the keeping of John Calhoun's +promise to Helena von Ritz.</p> +<p>It was not to be denied that there had been talk regarding this +lady, and that Calhoun knew it, though not from me. Much of it was +idle talk, based largely upon her mysterious life. Beyond that, a +woman beautiful as she has many enemies among her sex. There were +dark glances for her that night, I do not deny, before Mr. Calhoun +changed them. For, however John Calhoun was rated by his enemies, +the worst of these knew well his austerely spotless private life, +and his scrupulous concern for decorum.</p> +<p>Beautiful she surely was. Her ball gown was of light golden +stuff, and there was a coral wreath upon her hair, and her dancing +slippers were of coral hue. There was no more striking figure upon +the floor than she. Jewels blazed at her throat and caught here and +there the filmy folds of her gown. She was radiant, beautiful, +apparently happy. She came mysteriously enough; but I knew that Mr. +Calhoun's carriage had been sent for her. I learned also that he +had waited for her arrival.</p> +<p>As I first saw Helena von Ritz, there stood by her side Doctor +Samuel Ward, his square and stocky figure not undignified in his +dancing dress, the stiff gray mane of his hair waggling after its +custom as he spoke emphatically over something with her. A gruff +man, Doctor Ward, but under his gray mane there was a clear brain, +and in his broad breast there beat a large and kindly heart.</p> +<p>Even as I began to edge my way towards these two, I saw Mr. +Calhoun himself approach, tall, gray and thin.</p> +<p>He was very pale that night; and I knew well enough what effort +it cost him to attend any of these functions. Yet he bowed with the +grace of a younger man and offered the baroness an arm. Then, +methinks, all Washington gasped a bit. Not all Washington knew what +had gone forward between these two. Not all Washington knew what +that couple meant as they marched in the grand procession that +night—what they meant for America. Of all those who saw, I +alone understood.</p> +<p>So they danced; he with the dignity of his years, she with the +grace which was the perfection of dancing, the perfection of +courtesy and of dignity also, as though she knew and valued to the +full what was offered to her now by John Calhoun. Grave, sweet and +sad Helena von Ritz seemed to me that night. She was wholly +unconscious of those who looked and whispered. Her face was pale +and rapt as that of some devotee.</p> +<p>Mr. Polk himself stood apart, and plainly enough saw this little +matter go forward. When Mr. Calhoun approached with the Baroness +von Ritz upon his arm, Mr. Polk was too much politician to hesitate +or to inquire. He knew that it was safe to follow where John +Calhoun led! These two conversed for a few moments. Thus, I fancy, +Helena von Ritz had her first and last acquaintance with one of our +politicians to whom fate gave far more than his deserts. It was the +fortune of Mr. Polk to gain for this country Texas, California and +Oregon—not one of them by desert of his own! My heart has +often been bitter when I have recalled that little scene. Politics +so unscrupulous can not always have a John Calhoun, a Helena von +Ritz, to correct, guard and guide.</p> +<p>After this the card of Helena von Ritz might well enough indeed +been full had she cared further to dance. She excused herself +gracefully, saying that after the honor which had been done her she +could not ask more. Still, Washington buzzed; somewhat of Europe as +well. That might have been called the triumph of Helena von Ritz. +She felt it not. But I could see that she gloried in some other +thing.</p> +<p>I approached her as soon as possible. "I am about to go," she +said. "Say good-by to me, now, here! We shall not meet again. Say +good-by to me, now, quickly! My father and I are going to leave. +The treaty for Oregon is prepared. Now I am done. Yes. Tell me +good-by."</p> +<p>"I will not say it," said I. "I can not."</p> +<p>She smiled at me. Others might see her lips, her smile. I saw +what was in her eyes. "We must not be selfish," said she. "Come, I +must go."</p> +<p>"Do not go," I insisted. "Wait."</p> +<p>She caught my meaning. "Surely," she said, "I will stay a little +longer for that one thing. Yes, I wish to see her again, Miss +Elisabeth Churchill. I hated her. I wish that I might love her now, +do you know? Would—would she let me—if she knew?"</p> +<p>"They say that love is not possible between women," said I. "For +my own part, I wish with you."</p> +<p>She interrupted with a light tap of her fan upon my arm. "Look, +is not that she?"</p> +<p>I turned. A little circle of people were bowing before Mr. Polk, +who held a sort of levee at one side of the hall. I saw the tall +young girl who at the moment swept a graceful curtsey to the +president. My heart sprang to my mouth. Yes, it was Elisabeth! Ah, +yes, there flamed up on the altar of my heart the one fire, lit +long ago for her. So we came now to meet, silently, with small +show, in such way as to thrill none but our two selves. She, too, +had served, and that largely. And my constant altar fire had done +its part also, strangely, in all this long coil of large events. +Love—ah, true love wins and rules. It makes our maps. It +makes our world.</p> +<p>Among all these distinguished men, these beautiful women, she +had her own tribute of admiration. I felt rather than saw that she +was in some pale, filmy green, some crêpe of China, with +skirts and sleeves looped up with pearls. In her hair were green +leaves, simple and sweet and cool. To me she seemed graver, +sweeter, than when I last had seen her. I say, my heart came up +into my throat. All I could think was that I wanted to take her +into my arms. All I did was to stand and stare.</p> +<p>My companion was more expert in social maneuvers. She waited +until the crowd had somewhat thinned about the young lady and her +escort. I saw now with certain qualms that this latter was none +other than my whilom friend Jack Dandridge. For a wonder, he was +most unduly sober, and he made, as I have said, no bad figure in +his finery. He was very merry and just a trifle loud of speech, +but, being very intimate in Mr. Polk's household, he was warmly +welcomed by that gentleman and by all around him.</p> +<p>"She is beautiful!" I heard the lady at my arm whisper.</p> +<p>"Is she beautiful to you?" I asked.</p> +<p>"Very beautiful!" I heard her catch her breath. "She is good. I +wish I could love her. I wish, I wish—"</p> +<p>I saw her hands beat together as they did when she was agitated. +I turned then to look at her, and what I saw left me silent. +"Come," said I at last, "let us go to her." We edged across the +floor.</p> +<p>When Elisabeth saw me she straightened, a pallor came across her +face. It was not her way to betray much of her emotions. If her +head was a trifle more erect, if indeed she paled, she too lacked +not in quiet self-possession. She waited, with wide straight eyes +fixed upon me. I found myself unable to make much intelligent +speech. I turned to see Helena von Ritz gazing with wistful eyes at +Elisabeth, and I saw the eyes of Elisabeth make some answer. So +they spoke some language which I suppose men never will +understand—the language of one woman to another.</p> +<p>I have known few happier moments in my life than that. Perhaps, +after all, I caught something of the speech between their eyes. +Perhaps not all cheap and cynical maxims are true, at least when +applied to noble women.</p> +<p>Elisabeth regained her wonted color and more.</p> +<p>"I was very wrong in many ways," I heard her whisper. For almost +the first time I saw her perturbed. Helena von Ritz stepped close +to her. Amid the crash of the reeds and brasses, amid all the +broken conversation which swept around us, I knew what she said. +Low down in the flounces of the wide embroidered silks, I saw their +two hands meet, silently, and cling. This made me happy.</p> +<p>Of course it was Jack Dandridge who broke in between us. "Ah!" +said he, "you jealous beggar, could you not leave me to be happy +for one minute? Here you come back, a mere heathen, and proceed to +monopolize all our ladies. I have been making the most of my time, +you see. I have proposed half a dozen times more to Miss Elisabeth, +have I not?"</p> +<p>"Has she given you any answer?" I asked him, smiling.</p> +<p>"The same answer!"</p> +<p>"Jack," said I, "I ought to call you out."</p> +<p>"Don't," said he. "I don't want to be called out. I am getting +found out. That's worse. Well—Miss Elisabeth, may I be the +first to congratulate?"</p> +<p>"I am glad," said I, with just a slight trace of severity, "that +you have managed again to get into the good graces of Elmhurst. +When I last saw you, I was not sure that either of us would ever be +invited there again."</p> +<p>"Been there every Sunday regularly since you went away," said +Jack. "I am not one of the family in one way, and in another way I +am. Honestly, I have tried my best to cut you out. Not that you +have not played your game well enough, but there never was a game +played so well that some other fellow could not win by coppering +it. So I coppered everything you did—played it for just the +reverse. No go—lost even that way. And I thought <i>you</i> +were the most perennial fool of your age and generation."</p> +<p>I checked as gently as I could a joviality which I thought +unsuited to the time. "Mr. Dandridge," said I to him, "you know the +Baroness von Ritz?"</p> +<p>"Certainly! The <i>particeps criminis</i> of our bungled +wedding—of course I know her!"</p> +<p>"I only want to say," I remarked, "that the Baroness von Ritz +has that little shell clasp now all for her own, and that I have +her slipper again, all for my own. So now, we three—no, +four—at last understand one another, do we not? Jack, will +you do two things for me?"</p> +<p>"All of them but two."</p> +<p>"When the Baroness von Ritz insists on her intention of leaving +us—just at the height of all our happiness—I want you +to hand her to her carriage. In the second place, I may need you +again—"</p> +<p>"Well, what would any one think of that!" said Jack +Dandridge.</p> +<p>I never knew when these two left us in the crowd. I never said +good-by to Helena von Ritz. I did not catch that last look of her +eye. I remember her as she stood there that night, grave, sweet and +sad.</p> +<p>I turned to Elisabeth. There in the crash of the reeds and +brasses, the rise and fall of the sweet and bitter conversation all +around us, was the comedy and the tragedy of life.</p> +<p>"Elisabeth," I said to her, "are you not ashamed?"</p> +<p>She looked me full in the eye. "No!" she said, and smiled.</p> +<p>I have never seen a smile like Elisabeth's.</p> +<h3>THE END</h3> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE"></a>EPILOGUE</h2> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"'Tis the Star Spangled Banner; O, long may it wave,<br /> +O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave!"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;">—<i>Francis Scott +Key</i>.</span></p> +</div> +<p>On the night that Miss Elisabeth Churchill gave me her hand and +her heart for ever—for which I have not yet ceased to thank +God—there began the guns of Palo Alto. Later, there came the +fields of Monterey, Buena Vista, Cerro Gordo, Contreras, +Cherubusco, Molino del Rey—at last the guns sounded at the +gate of the old City of Mexico itself. Some of that fighting I +myself saw; but much of the time I was employed in that manner of +special work which had engaged me for the last few years. It was +through Mr. Calhoun's agency that I reached a certain importance in +these matters; and so I was chosen as the commissioner to negotiate +a peace with Mexico.</p> +<p>This honor later proved to be a dangerous and questionable one. +General Scott wanted no interference of this kind, especially since +he knew Mr. Calhoun's influence in my choice. He thwarted all my +attempts to reach the headquarters of the enemy, and did everything +he could to secure a peace of his own, at the mouth of the cannon. +I could offer no terms better than Mr. Buchanan, then our secretary +of state, had prepared for me, and these were rejected by the +Mexican government at last. I was ordered by Mr. Polk to state that +we had no better terms to offer; and as for myself, I was told to +return to Washington. At that time I could not make my way out +through the lines, nor, in truth, did I much care to do so.</p> +<p>A certain event not written in history influenced me to remain +for a time at the little village of Guadalupe Hidalgo. Here, in +short, I received word from a lady whom I had formerly known, none +less than Señora Yturrio, once a member of the Mexican +legation at Washington. True to her record, she had again reached +influential position in her country, using methods of her own. She +told me now to pay no attention to what had been reported by +Mexico. In fact, I was approached again by the Mexican +commissioners, introduced by her! What was done then is history. We +signed then and there the peace of Guadalupe Hidalgo, in accordance +with the terms originally given me by our secretary of state. So, +after all, Calhoun's kindness to a woman in distress was not lost; +and so, after all, he unwittingly helped in the ending of the war +he never wished begun.</p> +<p>Meantime, I had been recalled to Washington, but did not know +the nature of that recall. When at last I arrived there I found +myself disgraced and discredited. My actions were repudiated by the +administration. I myself was dismissed from the service without +pay—sad enough blow for a young man who had been married less +than a year.</p> +<p>Mr. Polk's jealousy of John Calhoun was not the only cause of +this. Calhoun's prophecy was right. Polk did not forget his revenge +on me. Yet, none the less, after his usual fashion, he was not +averse to receiving such credit as he could. He put the +responsibility of the treaty upon the Senate! It was debated hotly +there for some weeks, and at last, much to his surprise and my +gratification, it was ratified!</p> +<p>The North, which had opposed this Mexican War—that same +war which later led inevitably to the War of the +Rebellion—now found itself unable to say much against the +great additions to our domain which the treaty had secured. We paid +fifteen millions, in addition to our territorial indemnity claim, +and we got a realm whose wealth could not be computed. So much, it +must be owned, did fortune do for that singular favorite, Mr. Polk. +And, curiously enough, the smoke had hardly cleared from Palo Alto +field before Abraham Lincoln, a young member in the House of +Congress, was introducing a resolution which asked the marking of +"the spot where that outrage was committed." Perhaps it was an +outrage. Many still hold it so. But let us reflect what would have +been Lincoln's life had matters not gone just as they did.</p> +<p>With the cessions from Mexico came the great domain of +California. Now, look how strangely history sometimes works out +itself. Had there been any suspicion of the discovery of gold in +California, neither Mexico nor our republic ever would have owned +it! England surely would have taken it. The very year that my +treaty eventually was ratified was that in which gold was +discovered in California! But it was too late then for England to +interfere; too late then, also, for Mexico to claim it. We got +untold millions of treasure there. Most of those millions went to +the Northern States, into manufactures, into commerce. The North +owned that gold; and it was that gold which gave the North the +power to crush that rebellion which was born of the Mexican +War—that same rebellion by which England, too late, would +gladly have seen this Union disrupted, so that she might have yet +another chance at these lands she now had lost for ever.</p> +<p>Fate seemed still to be with us, after all, as I have so often +had occasion to believe may be a possible thing. That war of +conquest which Mr. Calhoun opposed, that same war which grew out of +the slavery tenets which he himself held—the great error of +his otherwise splendid public life—found its own correction +in the Civil War. It was the gold of California which put down +slavery. Thenceforth slavery has existed legally only <i>north</i> +of the Mason and Dixon line!</p> +<p>We have our problems yet. Perhaps some other war may come to +settle them. Fortunate for us if there could be another California, +another Texas, another Oregon, to help us pay for them!</p> +<p>I, who was intimately connected with many of these less known +matters, claim for my master a reputation wholly different from +that given to him in any garbled "history" of his life. I lay claim +in his name for foresight beyond that of any man of his time. He +made mistakes, but he made them bravely, grandly, and consistently. +Where his convictions were enlisted, he had no reservations, and he +used every means, every available weapon, as I have shown. But he +was never self-seeking, never cheap, never insincere. A detester of +all machine politicians, he was a statesman worthy to be called the +William Pitt of the United States. The consistency of his career +was a marvelous thing; because, though he changed in his beliefs, +he was first to recognize the changing conditions of our country. +He failed, and he is execrated. He won, and he is forgot.</p> +<p>My chief, Mr. Calhoun, did not die until some six years after +that first evening when Doctor Ward and I had our talk with him. He +was said to have died of a disease of the lungs, yet here again +history is curiously mistaken. Mr. Calhoun slept himself away. I +sometimes think with a shudder that perhaps this was the revenge +which Nemesis took of him for his mistakes. His last days were +dreamlike in their passing. His last speech in the Senate was read +by one of his friends, as Doctor Ward had advised him. Some said +afterwards that his illness was that accursed "sleeping sickness" +imported from Africa with these same slaves: It were a strange +thing had John Calhoun indeed died of his error! At least he slept +away. At least, too, he made his atonement. The South, following +his doctrines, itself was long accursed of this same sleeping +sickness; but in the providence of God it was not lost to us, and +is ours for a long and splendid history.</p> +<p>It was through John Calhoun, a grave and somber figure of our +history, that we got the vast land of Texas. It was through him +also—and not through Clay nor Jackson, nor any of the +northern statesmen, who never could see a future for the +West—that we got all of our vast Northwest realm. Within a +few days after the Palo Alto ball, a memorandum of agreement was +signed between Minister Pakenham and Mr. Buchanan, our secretary of +state. This was done at the instance and by the aid of John +Calhoun. It was he—he and Helena von Ritz—who brought +about that treaty which, on June fifteenth, of the same year, was +signed, and gladly signed, by the minister from Great Britain. The +latter had been fully enough impressed (such was the story) by the +reports of the columns of our west-bound farmers, with rifles +leaning at their wagon seats and plows lashed to the tail-gates. +Calhoun himself never ceased to regret that we could not delay a +year or two years longer. In this he was thwarted by the impetuous +war with the republic on the south, although, had that never been +fought, we had lost California—lost also the South, and lost +the Union!</p> +<p>Under one form or other, one name of government or another, the +flag of democracy eventually must float over all this continent. +Not a part, but all of this country must be ours, must be the +people's. It may cost more blood and treasure now. Some time we +shall see the wisdom of John Calhoun; but some time, too, I think, +we shall see come true that prophecy of a strange and brilliant +mentality, which in Calhoun's presence and in mine said that all of +these northern lands and all Mexico as well must one day be +ours—which is to say, the people's—for the sake of +human opportunity, of human hope and happiness. Our battles are but +partly fought. But at least they are not, then, lost.</p> +<p>For myself, the close of the Mexican War found me somewhat worn +by travel and illy equipped in financial matters. I had been +discredited, I say, by my own government. My pay was withheld. +Elisabeth, by that time my wife, was a girl reared in all the +luxury that our country then could offer. Shall I say whether or +not I prized her more when gladly she gave up all this and joined +me for one more long and final journey out across that great trail +which I had seen—the trail of democracy, of America, of the +world?</p> +<p>At last we reached Oregon. It holds the grave of one of ours; it +is the home of others. We were happy; we asked favor of no man; +fear of no one did we feel. Elisabeth has in her time slept on a +bed of husks. She has cooked at a sooty fireplace of her own; and +at her cabin door I myself have been the guard. We made our way by +ourselves and for ourselves, as did those who conquered America for +our flag. "The citizen standing in the doorway of his home, shall +save the Republic." So wrote a later pen.</p> +<p>It was not until long after the discovery of gold in California +had set us all to thinking that I was reminded of the strange story +of the old German, Von Rittenhofen, of finding some pieces of gold +while on one of his hunts for butterflies. I followed out his vague +directions as best I might. We found gold enough to make us rich +without our land. That claim is staked legally. Half of it awaits +an owner who perhaps will never come.</p> +<p>There are those who will accept always the solemn asseverations +of politicians, who by word of mouth or pen assert that this or +that <i>party</i> made our country, wrote its history. Such as they +might smile if told that not even men, much less politicians, have +written all our story as a nation; yet any who smile at woman's +influence in American history do so in ignorance of the truth. Mr. +Webster and Lord Ashburton have credit for determining our boundary +on the northeast—England called it Ashburton's capitulation +to the Yankee. Did you never hear the other gossip? England laid +all that to Ashburton's American wife! Look at that poor, +hot-tempered devil, Yrujo, minister from Spain with us, who saw his +king's holdings on this continent juggled from hand to hand between +us all. His wife was daughter of Governor McKean in Pennsylvania +yonder. If she had no influence with her husband, so much the worse +for her. In important times a generation ago M. Genêt, of +France, as all know, was the husband of the daughter of Governor +Clinton of New York. Did that hurt our chances with France? My Lord +Oswald, of Great Britain, who negotiated our treaty of peace in +1782—was not his worldly fortune made by virtue of his +American wife? All of us should remember that Marbois, Napoleon's +minister, who signed the great treaty for him with us, married his +wife while he was a mere <i>chargé</i> here in Washington; +and she, too, was an American. Erskine, of England, when times were +strained in 1808, and later—and our friend for the most +part—was not he also husband of an American? It was as John +Calhoun said—our history, like that of England and France, +like that of Rome and Troy, was made in large part by women.</p> +<p>Of that strange woman, Helena, Baroness von Ritz, I have never +definitely heard since then. But all of us have heard of that great +uplift of Central Europe, that ferment of revolution, most +noticeable in Germany, in 1848. Out of that revolutionary spirit +there came to us thousands and thousands of our best population, +the sturdiest and the most liberty-loving citizens this country +ever had. They gave us scores of generals in our late war, and gave +us at least one cabinet officer. But whence came that spirit of +revolution in Europe? <i>Why</i> does it live, grow, increase, even +now? <i>Why</i> does it sound now, close to the oldest thrones? +<i>Where</i> originated that germ of liberty which did its work so +well? I am at least one who believes that I could guess something +of its source.</p> +<p>The revolution in Hungary failed for the time. Kossuth came to +see us with pleas that we might aid Hungary. But republics forget. +We gave no aid to Hungary. I was far away and did not meet Kossuth. +I should have been glad to question him. I did not forget Helena +von Ritz, nor doubt that she worked out in full that strange +destiny for which, indeed, she was born and prepared, to which she +devoted herself, made clean by sacrifice. She was not one to leave +her work undone. She, I know, passed on her torch of principle.</p> +<p>Elisabeth and I speak often of Helena von Ritz. I remember her +still-brilliant, beautiful, fascinating, compelling, pathetic, +tragic. If it was asked of her, I know that she still paid it +gladly—all that sacrifice through which alone there can be +worked out the progress of humanity, under that idea which blindly +we attempted to express in our Declaration; that idea which at +times we may forget, but which eventually must triumph for the good +of all the world. She helped us make our map. Shall not that for +which she stood help us hold it?</p> +<p>At least, let me say, I have thought this little story might be +set down; and, though some to-day may smile at flags and +principles, I should like, if I may be allowed, to close with the +words of yet another man of those earlier times: "The old flag of +the Union was my protector in infancy and the pride and glory of my +riper years; and, by the grace of God, under its shadow I shall +die!" N.T.</p> +<p> </p> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 14355 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/14355-h/images/001.jpg b/14355-h/images/001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d17b68 --- /dev/null +++ b/14355-h/images/001.jpg diff --git a/14355-h/images/002.png b/14355-h/images/002.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9279b2e --- /dev/null +++ b/14355-h/images/002.png diff --git a/14355-h/images/086.jpg b/14355-h/images/086.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f276aae --- /dev/null +++ b/14355-h/images/086.jpg diff --git a/14355-h/images/212.jpg b/14355-h/images/212.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4a809fc --- /dev/null +++ b/14355-h/images/212.jpg diff --git a/14355-h/images/298.jpg b/14355-h/images/298.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5bb4ef4 --- /dev/null +++ b/14355-h/images/298.jpg |
