could suffice save some terrible, some
tremendous thing.

Enforced spectators of these curious and ominous ceremonies, the
prisoners looked on, wondering, imagining, hesitating and fearing.
"Monsieur," said Pierre Noir, turning at last to Law, "it grieves me to
speak, yet 'tis best for you to know the truth. It is to be you or
Monsieur Pembroke. They will not have me. They say that it must be one
of you two great chiefs, for that you were brave, your hearts were
strong, and that hence you would find favor as the adopted child of the
Great Spirit who has been offended."

Law looked at Pembroke, and they both regarded Mary Connynge and the
babe. "At least," said Law, "they spare the woman and the child. So far
very well. Sir Arthur, we are at the last hazard."

"I have asked them to take me," said Pierre Noir, "for I am an old man
and have no family. But they will not listen to me."

Pembroke passed his hand wearily across his face. "I have behind me so
long a memory of suffering," said he, "and before me so small an amount
of promise, that for myself I am content to let it end. It comes to all
sooner or later, according to our fate."

"You speak," said Law, "as though it were determined. Yet Pierre says it
will not be both of us, but one."

Pembroke smiled sadly. "Why, sir," said he, "do you think me so sorry a
fellow as that? Look!" and he pointed to Mary Connynge and the child.
"There is your duty."

Law followed his gaze, and his look was returned dumbly by the woman who
had played so strange a part in the late passages of his life. Never a
word with her had Law spoken regarding his plans or concerning what he
had learned from Pembroke. As to this, Mary Connynge had been afraid to
ask, nor dare ask even now.

"Besides," went on Pembroke later, as he called Law aside, "there is
something to be done--not here, but over there, in England, or in
France. Your duty is involved not only with this woman. You must find
sometime the other woman. You must see the Lady Catharine Knollys."

Law sunk his head between his hands and groaned bitterly.

"Go you rather," said he, "and spend your life for her. I choose that it
should end at once, and here."

"I have not been wont to call Mr. Law a coward," said Pembroke, simply.

"I should be a coward if I should stand aside and allow you to sacrifice
yourself; nor shall I do so," replied the other.

"They say," broke in Pierre Noir, who had been listening to the excited