ritage. 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.

"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."

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!"

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?

"May I carry this document to Mr. Pakenham?" asked John Calhoun, at
last, touching the paper on the table.

"Please, no. Do not. Only be sure that this proposition of compromise
will meet with his acceptance."

"I do not quite understand why you do not go to Mr. Buchanan, our
secretary of state."

"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."

"He shall have that credit, Madam, be sure of that," said John Calhoun.
He held out to her his long, thin, bloodless hand.

"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?"

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.

"To-morrow," went on Calhoun, "to-morrow evening there is to be what we
call a ball of our diplomacy at t