know myself that he will fling it all away, calling it worthless,
since he can not have that greatest fortune which he craves!"

"Sirrah, I have entertained much speech of both yourself and your
brother, because I would not seem ungracious nor forgetful. Yet this
paying of court by means of figures, by virtue of lists of estates--do
you not know how ineffectual this must seem?"

"If you could but understand!" cried Will. "If you could but believe
that there is none on earth values these less than my brother. Under
all this he has yet greater dreams. His ambition is to awaken an old
world and to build a new one. By heaven! Lady Catharine, I am asked to
speak for my brother, and so I shall! These are his ambitions. First of
all, Lady Catharine, you. Second, America. Third, a people for
America--a people who may hope! Oh, I admit all the folly of his life.
He played deep, yet 'twas but to forget you. He drank, but 'twas to
forget you. Foolish he was, as are all men. Now he succeeds, and finds
he can not forget you. I have told you his ambitions, Madam, and though
others may never know nor acknowledge them, you, at least, must do so.
And I beg you to remember, Madam, that of all his ambitions, 'twas you,
Lady Catharine, your favor, your kindness, your mercy, that made his
first and chief desire."

"As for that," said the woman, somewhat scornfully, "if you please, I
had rather I received my protestations direct; and your brother knows I
forbid him further protestations. He has, it is true, raised some
considerable noise by way of enterprises. That I might know, even did I
not see this horde of dukes and duchesses and princes of the blood,
clamoring for the recognition of even his remotest friends. I know,
too, that he is accepted as a hero by the people."

"And well he may be. Coachmen and valets have liveries of their own
these days. Servants now eat from plate, and clerks have their own
coaches. Paris is packed with people, and, look you, they are people no
longer clamoring for bread. Who has done this? Why, my brother, John Law
of Lauriston, Lady Catharine, who loves you, and loves you dearly."

The old wrinkle of perplexity gathered between the brows of the woman
before him. Her face was clouded, the changeful eyes now deep covered by
their lids.

Lacking the precise word for that crucial moment, Will Law broke further
on into material details. "To be explicit, as I have said," resumed he,
"everything seems to ce