better."

Lady Catharine Knollys, left alone, gazed upon the sleeper. John Law,
the failure, lay there, supine, abased, cast-down, undone, shorn utterly
of his old arrogance of mind and mien. Fortune, wealth, even the boon of
physical well-being--all had fled from him. The pride of a superb
manhood had departed from the lines of this limp figure. The cheeks were
lined and sunken, the eye, even had the lid not covered it, lacked the
late convincing fire. No longer commanding, no longer strong, no longer
gay and debonair, he lay, a man whose fate was failure, as he himself
had said.

The woman who stood with clasped hands, gazing at him, tears welling in
her eyes--she, so closely linked to his every thought for these many
years--well enough she knew the story of his boundless ambitions, now so
swiftly ended. Well enough, too, she knew the shortcomings of this
mortal man before her. Even as she had in her mirror looked into her own
soul, so now she saw deep into his heart as he lay there, helpless,
making no further plea for himself, urging no claim, making no
explanations nor denials, no asseverations, no promises. Did she indeed
see and recognize again, as sometimes gloriously happens in this poor
life of ours, that other and inner man, the only one fit to touch a
woman's hand--the man who might have been? Did she see this, and greet
again the friend of long ago? God, who hath given mercy, remedy alone
sufficing for the ill that men may do, He alone may know these things.

Could John Law failing be John Law succeeding, and in his most sublime
success? Upon the wreck and ruin of the old nature could there grow
another and a better man? Mayhap the answer to this was what the eye of
woman saw. How else could there have come into this great room, so late
the scene of turbulent activities, this vast and soothing calm? How else
could this man's breath come now so deep and regular and content? The
angels of God may know, they who drop down the gentle dew of heaven.

An hour passed by. A soft tread came to the door, but Henri heard no
sound, and saw only the prone figure of the sleeper, and beside it the
form of the woman, who still held his hand in her own. Still the hours
wore on, and still the watch continued, there under the mysteries of
Life and of Love, of Mercy and of Forgiveness. And so at last the gray
dawn broke again. The panes of the high mullioned windows were tinged
with splashes of color. The pale light crept i