aving 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.

"We should in time have had _all_ of Oregon, perhaps," said Mr. Calhoun;
"at least, that is the talk of these fierce politicians."

"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--"

"Believe me, Mr. Calhoun," I broke in, "your signature must go on
this."

"How now? Why so anxious, my son?"

"Because it is right!"

Calhoun turned to Helena von Ritz. "Has this been presented to Mr.
Buchanan, our secretary of state?" he asked.

"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--"

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.

"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 _hear_ us thank her. It's splendid work she
has done for us. But _why_?"

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.

"Would you retire now, Madam?" asked Mr. Calhoun. "I have sent for my
daughter."

"No, no. It is nothing!" she said. "Forgive me, it is only an old habit
of mine. See, I am quite well!"

Indeed, in a few moments she had regained something of that magnificent
energy which was her he