e hand
caught at the lace at her throat. Her eyes grew dark in their emotion.

"Yes, Madam," went on Will Law, tears shining in his own eyes, "'twas I,
an unfaithful messenger, who, by an error, wrought ruin for my brother
and for yourself, even as I did for myself. Madam, hear me! I would be a
better messenger to-day."

Lady Catharine sat still silent, her bosom heaving, her eyes gone wide
and straining.

"I have seen my brother weep," said Will, going on impulsively. "I have
seen him walk the floor at night, have heard him cry out to himself.
They call him crazed. Indeed he is crazed. Yet 'tis but for one word
from you."

"Sir," said Lady Catharine, struggling to gain self-control, and in
spite of herself softened by this appeal, "you speak well."

"If I do, 'tis but because I am the mouth-piece of a man who all his
life has sought to speak the truth; who has sought--yes, I say to you
even now, Lady Catharine--who has sought always to live the truth. This
I say in spite of all that we both know."

There came no reply from the woman, who sat still looking at him, not
yet moved by the voice of the proxy as she might then have been by the
voice of that proxy's principal. Vehemently the young man, ordinarily so
timid and diffident, approached her.

"Look you!" exclaimed he. "If my brother said he could lay France at
your feet, by heaven! he can well-nigh do so now. See! Here are some of
the properties he has lately purchased in the realm of France. The
Marquisat d'Effiat--'tis worth eight hundred thousand livres; the estate
of Riviere--worth nine hundred thousand livres; the estate of
Roissy--worth six hundred and fifty thousand livres; the estates of
Berville, of Fontaine, of Yville, of Gerponville, of Tancarville, of
Guermande--the tale runs near a score! Lately my brother has purchased
the Hotel Mazarin, and the property at Rue Vivienne, paying for them one
million two hundred thousand livres. He has other city properties,
houses in Paris, estates here and there, running not into the hundreds
of thousands, but into the millions of livres in actual value. Among
these are some of the estates of the greatest nobles of France. Their
value is more than any man can compute. Is this not something? Moreover,
there goes with it all the dignity of the most stupendous personal
success ever made by a single man since the world began. 'Tis all yours,
Lady Catharine. And unless you share it, it has no value to my brother.
I