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."

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.

"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.

"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!"

"But think what that will cost you!" she broke out. "This is only part.
It should _all_ be yours."

I flung the document from me. "This has already cost too much," I said.
"We do not buy states thus."

"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."

"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.

"And _myself_?" 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 _all_ 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.

"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!"

"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.
Pa