Such was indeed the truth.  The iron nature, so long overwrought, now utterly unstrung, had yielded for the first time to the stress of nature and of events.  The relief from what he had taken to be death had come swiftly, and the reaction brought a lethal calm of its own.  If he had indeed recognized the face of the woman who had touched him with her hand, it was as though he had witnessed her in a vision, a dream bitter and troubled, since it was a dream impossible to be true.

The Swiss looked still hesitatingly at the lady who had thus strangely come upon the scene, noticing her sweet and tender mouth, her cheeks just faintly tinged with pink, her eyes shining with a soft, mysterious radiance.  She approached the couch and laid both her hands upon the face of the unconscious man.  Tears sprang within her eyes and fell from her dark lashes.  The old servant looked up at her, simply.

“Madame would be alone with monsieur?” asked he.  “It will be 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.