Part 45 (1/2)

The red wafers which mended it--and which she smilingly explained at Calhoun's demand--were, as I knew, not less than red drops of blood.

In brief I may say that this paper stated that, in case the United States felt disposed to reopen discussions which Mr. Polk peremptorily had closed, Great Britain might be able to listen to a compromise on the line of the forty-ninth parallel. This compromise had three times been offered her by diplomacy of United States under earlier administrations.

Great Britain stated that in view of her deep and abiding love of peace and her deep and abiding admiration for America, she would resign her claim of all of Oregon down to the Columbia; and more, she would accept the forty-ninth parallel; provided she might have free navigation rights upon the Columbia. In fact, this was precisely the memorandum of agreement which eventually established the lines of the treaty as to Oregon between Great Britain and the United States.

Mr. Calhoun is commonly credited with having brought about this treaty, and with having 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 Was.h.i.+ngton working--well, working in secret to secure this doc.u.ment 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 a.s.sisted 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 d.a.m.ned 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 heritage. 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 s.e.x, 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 doc.u.ment 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.”