ne, the intrigue, if you
please, which interested me. I trust you will not accuse me beyond
this."

A stifled exclamation came from the Dona 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. "_Adios!_" said she. "I go!"

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.

The baroness herself turned. "I ought not to remain," she hesitated.

"Madam," said Mr. Calhoun, "we can not spare you yet."

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."

"Eh, what?" said Doctor Ward, turning to her. "My dear lady, two of us
are too old for that; and as for the other--"

He did not know how hard this chance remark might smite, but as usual
Helena von Ritz was brave and smiling.

"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."

"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 _you_ 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."

"Would you like Oregon?" she asked, looking at him with the full glance
of her dark eyes.

"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.

"All of Oregon?" she asked.

"All? We do not own all! Perhaps we do not deserve it. Surely we could
not expect it. Why, if we