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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5395.txt b/5395.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..326d30c --- /dev/null +++ b/5395.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2347 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Crisis, Volume 8, by Winston Churchill + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Crisis, Volume 8 + +Author: Winston Churchill + +Release Date: October 19, 2004 [EBook #5395] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRISIS, VOLUME 8 *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +THE CRISIS + +By Winston Churchill + + +Volume 8. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LAST CARD + +Mr. Brinsmade and the Doctor were the first to leave the little room +where Silas Whipple had lived and worked and died, Mr. Brinsmade bent +upon one of those errands which claimed him at all times. He took +Shadrach with him. Virginia sat on, a vague fear haunting her,--a fear +for her father's safety. Where was Clarence? What had he seen? Was the +place watched? These questions, at first intruding upon her sorrow, +remained to torture her. + +Softly she stirred from the chair where she had sat before the piano, and +opened the door of the outer office. A clock in a steeple near by was +striking twelve. The Colonel did not raise his head. Only Stephen saw her +go; she felt his eyes following her, and as she slipped out lifted hers +to meet them for a brief instant through the opening of the door. Then it +closed behind her. + +First of all she knew that the light in the outer office was burning +dimly, and the discovery gave her a shock. Who had turned it down? Had +Clarence? Was he here? Fearfully searching the room for him, her gaze was +held by a figure in the recess of the window at the back of the room. A +solid, bulky figure it was, and, though uncertainly outlined in the +semi-darkness, she knew it. She took a step nearer, and a cry escaped +her. + +The man was Eliphalet Hopper. He got down from the sill with a motion at +once sheepish and stealthy. Her breath caught, and instinctively she gave +back toward the door, as if to open it again. + +"Hold on!" he said. "I've got something I want to say to you, Miss +Virginia." + +His tones seemed strangely natural. They were not brutal. But she +shivered and paused, horrified at the thought of what she was about to +do. Her father was in that room--and Stephen. She must keep them there, +and get this man away. She must not show fright before him, and yet she +could not trust her voice to speak just then. She must not let him know +that she was afraid of him--this she kept repeating to herself. But how +to act? Suddenly an idea flashed upon her. + +Virginia never knew how she gathered the courage to pass him, even +swiftly, and turn up the gas. He started back, blinking as the jet +flared. For a moment she stood beside it, with her head high; confronting +him and striving to steady herself for speech. + +"Why have you come here?" she said. "Judge Whipple--died--to-night." + +The dominating note in his answer was a whine, as if, in spite of +himself, he were awed. + +"I ain't here to see the Judge." + +She was pale, and quite motionless. And she faltered now. She felt her +lips moving, but knew not whether the words had come. + +"What do you mean?" + +He gained confidence. The look in his little eyes was the filmy look of +those of an animal feasting. + +"I came here to see you," he said, "--you." She was staring at him now, in +horror. "And if you don't give me what I want, I cal'late to see some one +else--in there," said Mr. Hopper. + +He smiled, for she was swaying, her lids half closed. By a supreme effort +she conquered her terror and looked at him. The look was in his eyes +still, intensified now. + +"How dare you speak to me after what has happened! she said. If Colonel +Carvel were here, he would--kill you." + +He flinched at the name and the word, involuntarily. He wiped his +forehead, hot at the very thought. + +"I want to know!" he exclaimed, in faint-hearted irony. Then, remembering +his advantage, he stepped close to her. + +"He is here," he said, intense now. "He is here, in that there room." He +seized her wrists. Virginia struggled, and yet she refrained from crying +out. "He never leaves this city without I choose. I can have him hung if +I choose," he whispered, next to her. + +"Oh!" she cried; "oh, if you choose!" + +Still his body crept closer, and his face closer. And her strength was +going. + +"There's but one price to pay," he said hoarsely, "there's but one price +to pay, and that's you--you. I cal'late you'll marry me now." + +Delirious at the touch of her, he did not hear the door open. Her senses +were strained for that very sound. She heard it close again, and a +footstep across the room. She knew the step--she knew the voice, and her +heart leaped at the sound of it in anger. An arm in a blue sleeve came +between them, and Eliphalet Hopper staggered and fell across the books on +the table, his hand to his face. Above him towered Stephen Brice. Towered +was the impression that came to Virginia then, and so she thought of the +scene ever afterward. Small bits, like points of tempered steel, +glittered in Stephen's eyes, and his hands following up the mastery he +had given them clutched Mr. Hopper's shoulders. Twice Stephen shook him +so that his head beat upon the table. + +"You--you beast!" he cried, but he kept his voice low. And then, as if he +expected Hopper to reply: "Shall I kill you?" + +Again he shook him violently. He felt Virginia's touch on his arm. + +"Stephen!" she cried, "your wounds! Be careful! Oh, do be careful!" + +She had called him Stephen. He turned slowly, and his hands fell from Mr. +Hopper's cowering form as his eyes met hers. Even he could not fathom the +appeal, the yearning, in their dark blue depths. And yet what he saw +there made him tremble. She turned away, trembling too. + +"Please sit down," she entreated. "He--he won't touch me again while you +are here." + +Eliphalet Hopper raised himself from the desk, and one of the big books +fell with a crash to the floor. Then they saw him shrink, his eyes fixed +upon some one behind them. Before the Judge's door stood Colonel Carvel, +in calm, familiar posture, his feet apart, and his head bent forward as +he pulled at his goatee. + +"What is this man doing here, Virginia?" he asked. She did not answer +him, nor did speech seem to come easily to Mr. Hopper in that instant. +Perhaps the sight of Colonel Carvel had brought before him too, vividly +the memory of that afternoon at Glencoe. + +All at once Virginia grasped the fulness of the power in this man's +hands. At a word from him her father would be shot as a spy--and Stephen +Brice, perhaps, as a traitor. But if Colonel Carvel should learn that he +had seized her,--here was the terrible danger of the situation. Well she +knew what the Colonel would do. Would. Stephen tell him? She trusted in +his coolness that he would not. + +Before a word of reply came from any of the three, a noise was heard on +the stairway. Some one was coming up. There followed four seconds of +suspense, and then Clarence came in. She saw that his face wore a +worried, dejected look. It changed instantly when he glanced about him, +and an oath broke from his lips as he singled out Eliphalet Hopper +standing in sullen aggressiveness, beside the table. + +"So you're the spy, are you?" he said in disgust. Then he turned his back +and faced his uncle. "I saw, him in Williams's entry as we drove up. He +got away from me." + +A thought seemed to strike him. He strode to the open window at the back +of the office, and looked out, There was a roof under it. + +"The sneak got in here," he said. "He knew I was waiting for him in the +street. So you're the spy, are you?" + +Mr. Hopper passed a heavy hand across the cheek where Stephen had struck +him. + +"No, I ain't the spy," he said, with a meaning glance at the Colonel. + +"Then what are you doing here?" demanded Clarence, fiercely. + +"I cal'late that he knows," Eliphalet replied, jerking his head toward +Colonel Carvel. "Where's his Confederate uniform? What's to prevent my +calling up the provost's guard below?" he continued, with a smile that +was hideous on his swelling face. + +It was the Colonel who answered him, very quickly and very clearly. + +"Nothing whatever, Mr. Hopper," he said. "This is the way out." He +pointed at the door. Stephen, who was watching him, could not tell +whether it were a grim smile that creased the corners of the Colonel's +mouth as he added. "You might prefer the window." + +Mr. Hopper did not move, but his eyes shifted to Virginia's form. Stephen +deliberately thrust himself between them that he might not see her. + +"What are you waiting for?" said the Colonel, in the mild voice that +should have been an ominous warning. Still Mr. Hopper did not move. It +was clear that he had not reckoned upon all of this; that he had waited +in the window to deal with Virginia alone. But now the very force of a +desire which had gathered strength in many years made him reckless. His +voice took on the oily quality in which he was wont to bargain. + +"Let's be calm about this business, Colonel," he said. "We won't say +anything about the past. But I ain't set on having you shot. There's a +consideration that would stop me, and I cal'late you know what it is." + +Then the Colonel made a motion. But before he had taken a step Virginia +had crossed the room swiftly, and flung herself upon him. + +"Oh, don't, Pa!" she cried. "Don't! Tell him that I will agree to it. +Yes, I will. I can't have you--shot." The last word came falteringly, +faintly. + +"Let me go,--honey," whispered the Colonel, gently. His eyes did not +leave Eliphalet. He tried to disengage himself, but her fingers were +clasped about his neck in a passion of fear and love. And then, while she +clung to him, her head was raised to listen. The sound of Stephen Brice's +voice held her as in a spell. His words were coming coldly, deliberately, +and yet so sharply that each seemed to fall like a lash. + +"Mr. Hopper, if ever I hear of your repeating what you have seen or heard +in this room, I will make this city and this state too hot for you to +live in. I know you. I know how you hide in areas, how you talk sedition +in private, how you have made money out of other men's misery. And, what +is more, I can prove that you have had traitorous dealings with the +Confederacy. General Sherman has been good enough to call himself a +friend of mine, and if he prosecutes you for your dealings in Memphis, +you will get a term in a Government prison, You ought to be hung. Colonel +Carvel has shown you the door. Now go." + +And Mr, Hopper went. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +FROM THE LETTERS OF MAJOR STEPHEN BRICE + +Of the Staff of General Sherman on the March to the Sea, and on the March +from Savannah Northward. + +HEADQUARTERS MILITARY DIVISION OF THE MISSISSIPPI GOLDSBORO, N.C. MARCH +24, 1865 + +DEAR MOTHER: The South Carolina Campaign is a thing of the past. I pause +as I write these words--they seem so incredible to me. We have marched +the four hundred and twenty-five miles in fifty days, and the General +himself has said that it is the longest and most important march ever +made by an organized army in a civilized country. I know that you will +not be misled by the words "civilized country." Not until the history of +this campaign is written will the public realize the wide rivers and all +but impassable swamps we have crossed with our baggage trains and +artillery. The roads (by courtesy so called) were a sea of molasses and +every mile of them has had to be corduroyed. For fear of worrying you I +did not write you from Savannah how they laughed at us for starting at +that season of the year. They said we would not go ten miles, and I most +solemnly believe that no one but "Uncle Billy" and an army organized and +equipped by him could have gone ten miles. Nothing seems to stop him. You +have probably remarked in the tone of my letters ever since we left +Kingston for the sea, a growing admiration for "my General." + +It seems very strange that this wonderful tactician can be the same man I +met that day going to the Arsenal in the streetcar, and again at Camp +Jackson. I am sure that history will give him a high place among the +commanders of the world. Certainly none was ever more tireless than he. +He never fights a battle when it can be avoided, and his march into +Columbia while threatening Charleston and Augusta was certainly a master +stroke of strategy. + +I think his simplicity his most remarkable trait. You should see him as +he rides through the army, an erect figure, with his clothes all angular +and awry, and an expanse of white sock showing above his low shoes. You +can hear his name running from file to file; and some times the new +regiments can't resist cheering. He generally says to the Colonel: +--"Stop that noise, sir. Don't like it." + +On our march to the sea, if the orders were ever given to turn northward, +"the boys" would get very much depressed. One moonlight night I was +walking my horse close to the General's over the pine needles, when we +overheard this conversation between two soldiers:-- "Say, John," said +one, "I guess Uncle Billy don't know our corps is goin' north." + +"I wonder if he does,'" said John. "If I could only get a sight of them +white socks, I'd know it was all right." + +The General rode past without a word, but I heard him telling the story +to Mower the next day. + +I can find little if any change in his manner since I knew him first. He +is brusque, but kindly, and he has the same comradeship with officers and +men--and even the negroes who flock to our army. But few dare to take +advantage of it, and they never do so twice. I have been very near to +him, and have tried not to worry him or ask many foolish questions. +Sometimes on the march he will beckon me to close up to him, and we have +a conversation something on this order:-- "There's Kenesaw, Brice." + +"Yes, sir." + +Pointing with his arm. + +"Went beyond lines there with small party. Rebel battery on summit. Had +to git. Fired on. Next day I thought Rebels would leave in the night. Got +up before daylight, fixed telescope on stand, and waited. Watched top of +Kenesaw. No Rebel. Saw one blue man creep up, very cautious, looked +around, waved his hat. Rebels gone. Thought so." + +This gives you but a faint idea of the vividness of his talk. When we +make a halt for any time, the general officers and their staffs flock to +headquarters to listen to his stories. When anything goes wrong, his +perception of it is like a lightning flash,--and he acts as quickly. + +By the way, I have just found the letter he wrote me, offering this staff +position. Please keep it carefully, as it is something I shall value all +my life. + + GAYLESVILLE, ALABAMA, October 25, 1864. + + MAJOR STEPHEN A. BRICE: + + Dear Sir,--The world goes on, and wicked men sound asleep. Davis + has sworn to destroy my army, and Beauregard has come to do the + work,--so if you expect to share in our calamity, come down. I + offer you this last chance for staff duty, and hope you have had + enough in the field. I do not wish to hurry you, but you can't get + aboard a ship at sea. So if you want to make the trip, come to + Chattanooga and take your chances of meeting me. + + Yours truly, + + W. T. SHERMAN, Major General. + +One night--at Cheraw, I think it was--he sent for me to talk to him. I +found him lying on a bed of Spanish moss they had made for him. He asked +me a great many questions about St. Louis, and praised Mr. Brinsmade, +especially his management of the Sanitary Commission. + +"Brice," he said, after a while, "you remember when Grant sent me to beat +off Joe Johnston's army from Vicksburg. You were wounded then, by the +way, in that dash Lauman made. Grant thought he ought to warn me against +Johnston. + +"'He's wily, Sherman,' said he. 'He's a dangerous man.' + +"'Grant,' said I, 'you give me men enough and time enough to look over +the ground, and I'm not afraid of the devil.'" + +Nothing could sum up the man better than that. And now what a trick of +fate it is that he has Johnston before him again, in what we hope will +prove the last gasp of the war! He likes Johnston, by the way, and has +the greatest respect for him. + +I wish you could have peeped into our camp once in a while. In the rare +bursts of sunshine on this march our premises have been decorated with +gay red blankets, and sombre gray ones brought from the quartermasters, +and white Hudson's Bay blankets (not so white now), all being between +forked sticks. It is wonderful how the pitching of a few tents, and the +busy crackle of a few fires, and the sound of voices--sometimes merry, +sometimes sad, depending on the weather, will change the look of a lonely +pine knoll. You ask me how we fare. I should be heartily ashamed if a +word of complaint ever fell from my lips. But the men! Whenever I wake up +at night with my feet in a puddle between the blankets, I think of the +men. The corduroy roads which our horses stumble over through the mud, +they make as well as march on. Our flies are carried in wagons, and our +utensils and provisions. They must often bear on their backs the little +dog-tents, under which, put up by their own labor, they crawl to sleep, +wrapped in a blanket they have carried all day, perhaps waist deep in +water. The food they eat has been in their haversacks for many a weary +mile, and is cooked in the little skillet and pot which have also been a +part of their burden. Then they have their musket and accoutrements, and +the "forty rounds" at their backs. Patiently, cheerily tramping along, +going they know not where, nor care much either, so it be not in retreat. +Ready to make roads, throw up works, tear up railroads, or hew out and +build wooden bridges; or, best of all, to go for the Johnnies under hot +sun or heavy rain, through swamp and mire and quicksand. They marched ten +miles to storm Fort McAllister. And how the cheers broke from them when +the pop pop pop of the skirmish line began after we came in sight of +Savannah! No man who has seen but not shared their life may talk of +personal hardship. + +We arrived at this pretty little town yesterday, so effecting a junction +with Schofield, who got in with the 3d Corps the day before. I am writing +at General Schofield's headquarters. There was a bit of a battle on +Tuesday at Bentonville, and we have come hither in smoke, as usual. But +this time we thank Heaven that it is not the smoke of burning homes, +--only some resin the "Johnnies" set on fire before they left. + +I must close. General Sherman has just sent for me. + + ON BOARD DESPATCH BOAT "MARTIN." + AT SEA, March 25, 1865. + +DEAR MOTHER: A most curious thing has happened. But I may as well begin +at the beginning. When I stopped writing last evening at the summons of +the General, I was about to tell you something of the battle of +Bentonville on Tuesday last. Mower charged through as bad a piece of wood +and swamp as I ever saw, and got within one hundred yards of Johnston +himself, who was at the bridge across Mill Creek. Of course we did not +know this at the time, and learned it from prisoners. + +As I have written you, I have been under fire very little since coming to +the staff. When the battle opened, however, I saw that if I stayed with +the General (who was then behind the reserves) I would see little or +nothing; I went ahead "to get information" beyond the line of battle into +the woods. I did not find these favorable to landscape views, and just as +I was turning my horse back again I caught sight of a commotion some +distance to my right. The Rebel skirmish line had fallen back just that +instant, two of our skirmishers were grappling with a third man, who was +fighting desperately. It struck me as singular that the fellow was not in +gray, but had on some sort of dark clothes. + +I could not reach them in the swamp on horseback, and was in the act of +dismounting when the man fell, and then they set out to carry him to the +rear, still farther to my right, beyond the swamp. I shouted, and one of +the skirmishers came up. I asked him what the matter was. + +"We've got a spy, sir," he said excitedly. + +"A spy! Here?" + +"Yes, Major. He was hid in the thicket yonder, lying flat on his face. He +reckoned that our boys would run right over him and that he'd get into +our lines that way. Tim Foley stumbled on him, and he put up as good a +fight with his fists as any man I ever saw." + +Just then a regiment swept past us. That night I told the General, who +sent over to the headquarters of the 17th Corps to inquire. The word came +back that the man's name was Addison, and he claimed to be a Union +sympathizer who owned a plantation near by. He declared that he had been +conscripted by the Rebels, wounded, sent back home, and was now about to +be pressed in again. He had taken this method of escaping to our lines. +It was a common story enough, but General Mower added in his message that +he thought the story fishy. This was because the man's appearance was +very striking, and he seemed the type of Confederate fighter who would do +and dare anything. He had a wound, which had been a bad one, evidently +got from a piece of shell. But they had been able to find nothing on him. +Sherman sent back word to keep the man until he could see him in person. +It was about nine o'clock last night when I reached the house the General +has taken. A prisoner's guard was resting outside, and the hall was full +of officers. They said that the General was awaiting me, and pointed to +the closed door of a room that had been the dining room. I opened it. + +Two candles were burning in pewter sticks on the bare mahogany table. +There was the General sitting beside them, with his legs crossed, holding +some crumpled tissue paper very near his eyes, and reading. He did not +look up when I entered. I was aware of a man standing, tall and straight, +just out of range of the candles' rays. He wore the easy dress of a +Southern planter, with the broad felt hat. The head was flung back so +that there was just a patch of light on the chin, and the lids of the +eyes in the shadow were half closed. + +My sensations are worth noting. For the moment I felt precisely as I had +when I was hit by that bullet in Lauman's charge. I was aware of +something very like pain, yet I could not place the cause of it. But this +is what since has made me feel queer: you doubtless remember staying at +Hollingdean, when I was a boy, and hearing the story of Lord Northwell's +daredevil Royalist ancestor,--the one with the lace collar over the +dull-gold velvet, and the pointed chin, and the lazy scorn in the eyes. +Those eyes are painted with drooping lids. The first time I saw Clarence +Colfax I thought of that picture--and now I thought of the picture first. + +The General's voice startled me. + +"Major Brice, do you know this gentleman?" he asked. + +"Yes, General." + +"Who is he?" + +"His name is Colfax, sir--Colonel Colfax, I think" + +"Thought so," said the General. + +I have thought much of that scene since, as I am steaming northward over +green seas and under cloudless skies, and it has seemed very unreal. I +should almost say supernatural when I reflect how I have run across this +man again and again, and always opposing him. I can recall just how he +looked at the slave auction, which seem, so long ago: very handsome, very +boyish, and yet with the air of one to be deferred to. It was +sufficiently remarkable that I should have found him in Vicksburg. But +now--to be brought face to face with him in this old dining room in +Goldsboro! And he a prisoner. He had not moved. I did not know how he +would act, but I went up to him and held out my hand, and said.--"How do +you do, Colonel Colfax?" + +I am sure that my voice was not very steady, for I cannot help liking him +And then his face lighted up and he gave me his hand. And he smiled at me +and again at the General, as much as to say that it was all over. He has +a wonderful smile. + +"We seem to run into each other, Major Brice," said he. + +The pluck of the man was superb. I could see that the General, too, was +moved, from the way he looked at him. And he speaks a little more +abruptly at such times. + +"Guess that settles it, Colonel," he said. + +"I reckon it does, General," said Clarence, still smiling. The General +turned from him to the table with a kind of jerk and clapped his hand on +the tissue paper. + +"These speak for themselves, sir," he said. "It is very plain that they +would have reached the prominent citizens for whom they were intended if +you had succeeded in your enterprise. You were captured out of uniform +You know enough of war to appreciate the risk you ran. Any statement to +make?" + +"No, sir." + +"Call Captain Vaughan, Brice, and ask him to conduct the prisoner back." + +"May I speak to him, General?" I asked. The General nodded. + +I asked him if I could write home for him or do anything else. That +seemed to touch him. Some day I shall tell you what he said. + +Then Vaughan took him out, and I heard the guard shoulder arms and tramp +away in the night. The General and I were left alone with the mahogany +table between us, and a family portrait of somebody looking down on us +from the shadow on the wall. A moist spring air came in at the open +windows, and the candles flickered. After a silence, I ventured to say: + +"I hope he won't be shot, General." + +"Don't know, Brice," he answered. "Can't tell now. Hate to shoot him, but +war is war. Magnificent class he belongs to--pity we should have to fight +those fellows." + +He paused, and drummed on the table. "Brice," said he, "I'm going to send +you to General Grant at City Point with despatches. I'm sorry Dunn went +back yesterday, but it can't be helped. Can you start in half an hour?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"You'll have to ride to Kinston. The railroad won't be through until +to-morrow: I'll telegraph there, and to General Easton at Morehead City. +He'll have a boat for you. Tell Grant I expect to run up there in a day +or two myself, when things are arranged here. You may wait until I come." + +"Yes, sir." + +I turned to go, but Clarence Colfax was on my mind "General?" + +"Eh! what?" + +"General, could you hold Colonel Colfax until I see you again?" + +It was a bold thing to say, and I quaked. And he looked at me in his keen +way, through and through "You saved his life once before, didn't you?" + +"You allowed me to have him sent home from Vicksburg, sir." + +He answered with one of his jokes--apropos of something he said on the +Court House steps at Vicksburg. Perhaps I shall tell it to you sometime. + +"Well, well," he said, "I'll see, I'll see. Thank God this war is pretty +near over. I'll let you know, Brice, before I shoot him." + +I rode the thirty odd miles to Kinston in--little more than three hours. +A locomotive was waiting for me, and I jumped into a cab with a friendly +engineer. Soon we were roaring seaward through the vast pine forests. It +was a lonely journey, and you were much in my mind. My greatest +apprehension was that we might be derailed and the despatches captured; +for as fast as our army had advanced, the track of it had closed again, +like the wake of a ship at sea. Guerillas were roving about, tearing up +ties and destroying bridges. + +There was one five-minute interval of excitement when, far down the +tunnel through the forest, we saw a light gleaming. The engineer said +there was no house there, that it must be a fire. But we did not slacken +our speed, and gradually the leaping flames grew larger and redder until +we were upon them. + +Not one gaunt figure stood between them and us. Not one shot broke the +stillness of the night. As dawn broke I beheld the flat, gray waters of +the Sound stretching away to the eastward, and there was the boat at the +desolate wharf beside the warehouse, her steam rising white in the chill +morning air. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE SAME, CONTINUED + + HEADQUARTERS ARMIES OF THE UNITED STATES, + CITY POINT, VIRGINIA, March 28, 1865. + +DEAR MOTHER: I arrived here safely the day before yesterday, and I hope +that you will soon receive some of the letters I forwarded on that day. +It is an extraordinary place, this City Point; a military city sprung up +like a mushroom in a winter. And my breath was quite taken away when I +first caught sight of it on the high table-land. The great bay in front +of it, which the Appomattox helps to make, is a maze of rigging and +smoke-pipes, like the harbor of a prosperous seaport. There are gunboats +and supply boats, schooners and square-riggers and steamers, all huddled +together, and our captain pointed out to me the 'Malvern' flying Admiral +Porter's flag. Barges were tied up at the long wharves, and these were +piled high with wares and flanked by squat warehouses. Although it was +Sunday, a locomotive was puffing and panting along the foot of the ragged +bank. + +High above, on the flat promontory between the two rivers, is the city of +tents and wooden huts, the great trees in their fresh faint green +towering above the low roofs. At the point of the bluff a large flag +drooped against its staff, and I did not have to be told that this was +General Grant's headquarters. + +There was a fine steamboat lying at the wharf, and I had hardly stepped +ashore before they told me she was President Lincoln's. I read the name +on her--the 'River Queen'. Yes, the President is here, too, with his wife +and family. + +There are many fellows here with whom I was brought up in Boston. I am +living with Jack Hancock, whom you will remember well. He is a captain +now, and has a beard. + +But I must go on with my story. I went straight to General Grant's +headquarters,--just a plain, rough slat house such as a contractor might +build for a temporary residence. Only the high flagstaff and the Stars +and Stripes distinguish it from many others of the same kind. A group of +officers stood chatting outside of it, and they told me that the General +had walked over to get his mail. He is just as unassuming and democratic +as "my general." General Rankin took me into the office, a rude room, and +we sat down at the long table there. Presently the door opened, and a man +came in with a slouch hat on and his coat unbuttoned. He was smoking a +cigar. We rose to our feet, and I saluted. + +It was the general-in-chief. He stared at me, but said nothing. + +"General, this is Major Brice of General Sherman's staff. He has brought +despatches from Goldsboro," said Rankin. + +He nodded, took off his hat and laid it on the table, and reached out for +the despatches. While reading them he did not move, except to light +another cigar. I am getting hardened to unrealities,--perhaps I should +say marvels, now. Our country abounds in them. It did not seem so strange +that this silent General with the baggy trousers was the man who had +risen by leaps and bounds in four years to be general-in-chief of our +armies. His face looks older and more sunken than it did on that day in +the street near the Arsenal, in St. Louis, when he was just a military +carpet-bagger out of a job. He is not changed otherwise. But how +different the impressions made by the man in authority and the same man +out of authority! + +He made a sufficient impression upon me then, as I told you at the time. +That was because I overheard his well-merited rebuke to Hopper. But I +little dreamed that I was looking on the man who was to come out of the +West and save this country from disunion. And how quietly and simply he +has done it, without parade or pomp or vainglory. Of all those who, with +every means at their disposal, have tried to conquer Lee, he is the only +one who has in any manner succeeded. He has been able to hold him +fettered while Sherman has swept the Confederacy. And these are the two +men who were unknown when the war began. + +When the General had finished reading the despatches, he folded them +quickly and put them in his pocket. + +"Sit down and tell me about this last campaign of yours, Major," he said. + +I talked with him for about half an hour. I should rather say talked to +him. He is a marked contrast to Sherman in this respect. I believe that +he only opened his lips to ask two questions. You may well believe that +they were worth the asking, and they revealed an intimate knowledge of +our march from Savannah. I was interrupted many times by the arrival of +different generals, aides, etc. He sat there smoking, imperturbable. +Sometimes he said "yes" or "no," but oftener he merely nodded his head. +Once he astounded by a brief question an excitable young lieutenant, who +floundered. The General seemed to know more than he about the matter he +had in hand. + +When I left him, he asked me where I was quartered, and said he hoped I +would be comfortable. + +Jack Hancock was waiting for me, and we walked around the city, which +even has barber shops. Everywhere were signs of preparation, for the +roads are getting dry, and the General preparing for a final campaign +against Lee. Poor Lee! What a marvellous fight he has made with his +material. I think that he will be reckoned among the greatest generals of +our race. + +Of course, I was very anxious to get a glimpse of the President, and so +we went down to the wharf, where we heard that he had gone off for a +horseback ride. They say that he rides nearly every day, over the +corduroy roads and through the swamps, and wherever the boys see that +tall hat they cheer. They know it as well as the lookout tower on the +flats of Bermuda Hundred. He lingers at the campfires and swaps stories +with the officers, and entertains the sick and wounded in the hospitals. +Isn't it like him? + +He hasn't changed, either. I believe that the great men don't change. +Away with your Napoleons and your Marlboroughs and your Stuarts. These +are the days of simple men who command by force of character, as well as +knowledge. Thank God for the American! I believe that he will change the +world, and strip it of its vainglory and hypocrisy. + +In the evening, as we were sitting around Hancock's fire, an officer came +in. + +"Is Major Brice here?" he asked. I jumped up. + +"The President sends his compliments, Major, and wants to know if you +would care to pay him a little visit." + +If I would care to pay him a little visit! That officer had to hurry to +keep up with the as I walked to the wharf. He led me aboard the River +Queen, and stopped at the door of the after-cabin. + +Mr. Lincoln was sitting under the lamp, slouched down in his chair, in +the position I remembered so well. It was as if I had left him but +yesterday. He was whittling, and he had made some little toy for his son +Tad, who ran out as I entered. + +When he saw me, the President rose to his great height, a sombre, +towering figure in black. He wears a scraggly beard now. But the sad +smile, the kindly eyes in their dark caverns, the voice--all were just +the same. I stopped when I looked upon the face. It was sad and lined +when I had known it, but now all the agony endured by the millions, North +and South, seemed written on it. + +"Don't you remember me, Major?" he asked. + +The wonder was that he had remembered me! I took his big, bony hand, +which reminded me of Judge Whipple's. Yes, it was just as if I had been +with him always, and he were still the gaunt country lawyer. + +"Yes, sir," I said, "indeed I do." + +He looked at me with that queer expression of mirth he sometimes has. + +"Are these Boston ways, Steve?" he asked. "They're tenacious. I didn't +think that any man could travel so close to Sherman and keep 'em." + +"They're unfortunate ways, sir," I said, "if they lead you to misjudge +me." + +He laid his hand on my shoulder, just as he had done at Freeport. + +"I know you, Steve," he said. "I shuck an ear of corn before I buy it. +I've kept tab on you a little the last five years, and when I heard +Sherman had sent a Major Brice up here, I sent for you." + +What I said was boyish. "I tried very hard to get a glimpse of you +to-day, Mr. Lincoln. I wanted to see you again." + +He was plainly pleased. + +"I'm glad to hear it, Steve," he said. "Then you haven't joined the ranks +of the grumblers? You haven't been one of those who would have liked to +try running this country for a day or two, just to show me how to do it?" + +"No, sir," I said, laughing. + +"Good!" he cried, slapping his knee. "I didn't think you were that kind, +Steve. Now sit down and tell me about this General of mine who wears +seven-leagued boots. What was it--four hundred and twenty miles in fifty +days? How many navigable rivers did he step across?" He began to count on +those long fingers of his. "The Edisto, the Broad, the Catawba, the +Pedee, and--?" + +"The Cape Fear," I said. + +"Is--is the General a nice man?" asked Mr. Lincoln, his eyes twinkling. + +"Yes, sir, he is that," I answered heartily. "And not a man in the army +wants anything when he is around. You should see that Army of the +Mississippi, sir. They arrived in Goldsboro' in splendid condition." + +He got up and gathered his coat-tails under his arms, and began to walk +up and down the cabin. + +"What do the boys call the General?" he asked. + +I told him "Uncle Billy." And, thinking the story of the white socks +might amuse him, I told him that. It did amuse him. + +"Well, now," he said, "any man that has a nickname like that is all +right. That's the best recommendation you can give the General--just say +'Uncle Billy.'" He put one lip over the other. "You've given 'Uncle +Billy' a good recommendation, Steve," he said. "Did you ever hear the +story of Mr. Wallace's Irish gardener?" + +"No, sir." + +"Well, when Wallace was hiring his gardener he asked him whom he had been +living with. + +"'Misther Dalton, sorr.' + +"'Have you a recommendation, Terence?' + +"'A ricommindation is it, sorr? Sure I have nothing agin Misther Dalton, +though he moightn't be knowing just the respict the likes of a +first-class garthener is entitled to.'" + +He did not laugh. He seldom does, it seems, at his own stories. But I +could not help laughing over the "ricommindation" I had given the +General. He knew that I was embarrassed, and said kindly:-- "Now tell me +something about 'Uncle Billy's Bummers.' I hear that they have a most +effectual way of tearing up railroads." + +I told him of Poe's contrivance of the hook and chain, and how the +heaviest rails were easily overturned with it, and how the ties were +piled and fired and the rails twisted out of shape. The President +listened to every word with intense interest. + +"By Jing!" he exclaimed, "we have got a general. Caesar burnt his bridges +behind him, but Sherman burns his rails. Now tell me some more." + +He helped me along by asking questions. Then I began to tell him how the +negroes had flocked into our camps, and how simply and plainly the +General had talked to them, advising them against violence of any kind, +and explaining to them that "Freedom" meant only the liberty to earn +their own living in their own way, and not freedom from work. + +"We have got a general, sure enough," he cried. "He talks to them +plainly, does he, so that they understand? I say to you, Brice," he went +on earnestly, "the importance of plain talk can't be overestimated. Any +thought, however abstruse, can be put in speech that a boy or a negro can +grasp. Any book, however deep, can be written in terms that everybody can +comprehend, if a man only tries hard enough. When I was a boy I used to +hear the neighbors talking, and it bothered me so because I could not +understand them that I used to sit up half the night thinking things out +for myself. I remember that I did not know what the word demonstrate +meant. So I stopped my studies then and there and got a volume of Euclid. +Before I got through I could demonstrate everything in it, and I have +never been bothered with demonstrate since." + +I thought of those wonderfully limpid speeches of his: of the Freeport +debates, and of the contrast between his style and Douglas's. And I +understood the reason for it at last. I understood the supreme mind that +had conceived the Freeport Question. And as I stood before him then, at +the close of this fearful war, the words of the Gospel were in my mind. +'So the last shall be first, and the first, last; for many be called, but +few chosen.' + +How I wished that all those who have maligned and tortured him could talk +with him as I had talked with him. To know his great heart would disarm +them of all antagonism. They would feel, as I feel, that his life is so +much nobler than theirs, and his burdens so much heavier, that they would +go away ashamed of their criticism. + +He said to me once, "Brice, I hope we are in sight of the end, now. I hope +that we may get through without any more fighting. I don't want to see +any more of our countrymen killed. And then," he said, as if talking to +himself, "and then we must show them mercy--mercy." + +I thought it a good time to mention Colfax's case. He has been on my mind +ever since. Mr. Lincoln listened attentively. Once he sighed, and he was +winding his long fingers around each other while I talked. + +"I saw the man captured, Mr. Lincoln," I concluded, "And if a +technicality will help him out, he was actually within his own skirmish +line at the time. The Rebel skirmishers had not fallen back on each side +of him." + +"Brice," he said, with that sorrowful smile, "a technicality might save +Colfax, but it won't save me. Is this man a friend of yours?" he asked. + +That was a poser. + +"I think he is, Mr. Lincoln. I should like to call him so. I admire him." +And I went on to tell of what he had done at Vicksburg, leaving out, +however, my instrumentality in having him sent north. The President used +almost Sherman's words. + +"By Jing!" he exclaimed. (That seems to be a favorite expression of his.) +"Those fellows were born to fight. If it wasn't for them, the South would +have quit long ago." Then he looked at me in his funny way, and said, +"See here, Steve, if this Colfax isn't exactly a friend of yours, there +must be some reason why you are pleading for him in this way." + +"Well, sir," I said, at length, "I should like to get him off on account +of his cousin, Miss Virginia Carvel." And I told him something about Miss +Carvel, and how she had helped you with the Union sergeant that day in +the hot hospital. And how she had nursed Judge Whipple." + +"She's a fine woman," he said. "Those women have helped those men to +prolong this war about three years. + +"And yet we must save them for the nation's sake. They are to be the +mothers of our patriots in days to come. Is she a friend of yours, too, +Steve?" + +What was I to say? + +"Not especially, sir," I answered finally. I have had to offend her +rather often. But I know that she likes my mother." + +"Why!" he cried, jumping up, "she's a daughter of Colonel Carvel. I +always had an admiration for that man. An ideal Southern gentleman of the +old school,--courteous, as honorable and open as the day, and as brave as +a lion. You've heard the story of how he threw a man named Babcock out of +his store, who tried to bribe him?" + +"I heard you tell it in that tavern, sir. And I have heard it since." It +did me good to hear the Colonel praised. + +"I always liked that story," he said. "By the way, what's become of the +Colonel?" + +"He got away--South, sir," I answered. "He couldn't stand it. He hasn't +been heard of since the summer of '63. They think he was killed in Texas. +But they are not positive. They probably never will be," I added. He was +silent awhile. + +"Too bad!" he said. "Too bad. What stuff those men are made of! And so +you want me to pardon this Colfax?" + +"It would be presumptuous in me to go that far, sir," I replied. "But I +hoped you might speak of it to the General when he comes. And I would be +glad of the opportunity to testify." + +He took a few strides up and down the room. + +"Well, well," he said, "that's my vice--pardoning, saying yes. It's +always one more drink with me. It--" he smiled--"it makes me sleep +better. I've pardoned enough Rebels to populate New Orleans. Why," he +continued, with his whimsical look, "just before I left Washington, in +comes one of your Missouri senators with a list of Rebels who are shut up +in McDowell's and Alton. I said:-- "'Senator, you're not going to ask me +to turn loose all those at once?' + +"He said just what you said when you were speaking of Missouri a while +ago, that he was afraid of guerilla warfare, and that the war was nearly +over. I signed 'em. And then what does he do but pull out another batch +longer than the first! And those were worse than the first. + +"'What! you don't want me to turn these loose, too?' + +"'Yes, I do, Mr. President. I think it will pay to be merciful.' + +"'Then durned if I don't,' I said, and I signed 'em." + + STEAMER "RIVER QUEEN." + ON THE POTOMAC, April 9, 1865. + +DEAR MOTHER: I am glad that the telegrams I have been able to send +reached you safely. I have not had time to write, and this will be but a +short letter. + +You will be surprised to see this heading. I am on the President's boat, +in the President's party, bound with him for Washington. And this is how +it happened: The very afternoon of the day I wrote you, General Sherman +himself arrived at City Point on the steamer 'Russia'. I heard the +salutes, and was on the wharf to meet him. That same afternoon he and +General Grant and Admiral Porter went aboard the River Queen to see the +President. How I should have liked to be present at that interview! After +it was over they all came out of the cabin together General Grant silent, +and smoking, as usual; General Sherman talking vivaciously; and Lincoln +and the Admiral smiling and listening. That was historic! I shall never +expect to see such a sight again in all my days. You can imagine my +surprise when the President called me from where I was standing at some +distance with the other officers. He put his hand on my shoulder then and +there, and turned to General Sherman. + +"Major Brice is a friend of mine, General," he said. "I knew him in +Illinois." + +"He never told me that," said the General. + +"I guess he's got a great many important things shut up inside of him," +said Mr. Lincoln, banteringly. "But he gave you a good recommendation, +Sherman. He said that you wore white socks, and that the boys liked you +and called you 'Uncle Billy.' And I told him that was the best +recommendation he could give anybody." + +I was frightened. But the General only looked at me with those eyes that +go through everything, and then he laughed. + +"Brice," he said, "You'll have my reputation ruined." + +"Sherman," said Mr. Lincoln, "you don't want the Major right away, do +you? Let him stay around here for a while with me. I think he'll find it +interesting." He looked at the general-in-chief, who was smiling just a +little bit. "I've got a sneaking notion that Grant's going to do +something." + +Then they all laughed. + +"Certainly, Mr. Lincoln," said my General, "you may have Brice. Be +careful he doesn't talk you to death--he's said too much already." + +That is how I came to stay. + +I have no time now to tell you all that I have seen and heard. I have +ridden with the President, and have gone with him on errands of mercy and +errands of cheer. I have been almost within sight of what we hope is the +last struggle of this frightful war. I have listened to the guns of Five +Forks, where Sheridan and Warren bore their own colors in the front of +the charge, I was with Mr. Lincoln while the battle of Petersburg was +raging, and there were tears in his eyes. + +Then came the retreat of Lee and the instant pursuit of Grant, and +--Richmond. The quiet General did not so much as turn aside to enter the +smoking city he had besieged for so long. But I went there, with the +President. And if I had one incident in my life to live over again, I +should choose this. As we were going up the river, a disabled steamer lay +across the passage in the obstruction of piles the Confederates had +built. Mr. Lincoln would not wait. There were but a few of us in his +party, and we stepped into Admiral Porter's twelve-oared barge and were +rowed to Richmond, the smoke of the fires still darkening the sky. We +landed within a block of Libby Prison. + +With the little guard of ten sailors he marched the mile and a half to +General Weitzel's headquarters,--the presidential mansion of the +Confederacy. You can imagine our anxiety. I shall remember him always as +I saw him that day, a tall, black figure of sorrow, with the high silk +hat we have learned to love. Unafraid, his heart rent with pity, he +walked unharmed amid such tumult as I have rarely seen. The windows +filled, the streets ahead of us became choked, as the word that the +President was coming ran on like quick-fire. The mob shouted and pushed. +Drunken men reeled against him. The negroes wept aloud and cried +hosannas. They pressed upon him that they might touch the hem of his +coat, and one threw himself on his knees and kissed the President's feet. + +Still he walked on unharmed, past the ashes and the ruins. Not as a +conqueror was he come, to march in triumph. Not to destroy, but to heal. +Though there were many times when we had to fight for a path through the +crowds, he did not seem to feel the danger. + +Was it because he knew that his hour was not yet come? + +To-day, on the boat, as we were steaming between the green shores of the +Potomac, I overheard him reading to Mr. Sumner:-- + + "Duncan is in his grave; + After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; + Treason has done his worst; nor steel, nor poison, + Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, + Can touch him further." + + WILLARD'S HOTEL, WASHINGTON, April 10, 1865. + +I have looked up the passage, and have written it in above. It haunts me. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MAN OF SORROW + +The train was late--very late. It was Virginia who first caught sight of +the new dome of the Capitol through the slanting rain, but she merely +pressed her lips together and said nothing. In the dingy brick station of +the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad more than one person paused to look after +them, and a kind-hearted lady who had been in the car kissed the girl +good-by. + +"You think that you can find your uncle's house, my dear?" she asked, +glancing at Virginia with concern. Through all of that long journey she +had worn a look apart. "Do you think you can find your uncle's house?" + +Virginia started. And then she smiled as she looked at the honest, alert, +and squarely built gentleman beside her. + +"Captain Brent can, Mrs. Ware," she said. "He can find anything." + +Whereupon the kind lady gave the Captain her hand. "You look as if you +could, Captain," said she. "Remember, if General Carvel is out of town, +you promised to bring her to me." + +"Yes, ma'am," said Captain Lige, "and so I shall." + +"Kerridge, kerridge! Right dis-a-way! No sah, dat ain't de kerridge you +wants. Dat's it, lady, you'se lookin at it. Kerridge, kerridge, +kerridge!" + +Virginia tried bravely to smile, but she was very near to tears as she +stood on the uneven pavement and looked at the scrawny horses standing +patiently in the steady downpour. All sorts of people were coming and +going, army officers and navy officers and citizens of states and +territories, driving up and driving away. + +And this was Washington! + +She was thinking then of the multitude who came here with aching hearts, +--with heavier hearts than was hers that day. How many of the throng +hurrying by would not flee, if they could, back to the peaceful homes +they had left? But perhaps those homes were gone now. Destroyed, like her +own, by the war. Women with children at their breasts, and mothers bowed +with sorrow, had sought this city in their agony. Young men and old had +come hither, striving to keep back the thoughts of dear ones left behind, +whom they might never see again. And by the thousands and tens of +thousands they had passed from here to the places of blood beyond. + +"Kerridge, sah! Kerridge!" + +"Do you know where General Daniel Carvel lives?" + +"Yes, sah, reckon I does. I Street, sah. Jump right in, sah." + +Virginia sank back on the stuffy cushions of the rattle-trap, and then +sat upright again and stared out of the window at the dismal scene. They +were splashing through a sea of mud. Ever since they had left St. Louis, +Captain Lige had done his best to cheer her, and he did not intend to +desist now. + +"This beats all," he cried. "So this is Washington, Why, it don't compare +to St. Louis, except we haven't got the White House and the Capitol. +Jinny, it would take a scow to get across the street, and we don't have +ramshackly stores and nigger cabins bang up against fine Houses like +that. This is ragged. That's what it is, ragged. We don't have any dirty +pickaninnies dodging among the horses in our residence streets. I +declare, Jinny, if those aren't pigs!" + +Virginia laughed. She could not help it. + +"Poor Lige!" she said. "I hope Uncle Daniel has some breakfast for you. +You've had a good deal to put up with on this trip." + +"Lordy, Jinny," said the Captain, "I'd put up with a good deal more than +this for the sake of going anywhere with you." + +"Even to such a doleful place as this?" she sighed. + +"This is all right, if the sun'll only come out and dry things up and let +us see the green on those trees," he said, "Lordy, how I do love to see +the spring green in the sunlight!" + +She put out her hand over his. + +"Lige," she said, "you know you're just trying to keep up my spirits. +You've been doing that ever since we left home." + +"No such thing," he replied with vehemence. "There's nothing for you to +be cast down about." + +"Oh, but there is!" she cried. "Suppose I can't make your Black +Republican President pardon Clarence!" + +"Pooh!" said the Captain, squeezing her hand and trying to appear +unconcerned. "Your Uncle Daniel knows Mr. Lincoln. He'll have that +arranged." + +Just then the rattletrap pulled up at the sidewalk, the wheels of the +near side in four inches of mud, and the Captain leaped out and spread +the umbrella. They were in front of a rather imposing house of brick, +flanked on one side by a house just like it, and on the other by a series +of dreary vacant lots where the rain had collected in pools. They climbed +the steps and rang the bell. In due time the door was opened by a smiling +yellow butler in black. + +"Does General Carvel live here?" + +"Yas, miss, But he ain't to home now. Done gone to New York." + +"Oh," faltered Virginia. "Didn't he get my telegram day before yesterday? +I sent it to the War Department." + +"He's done gone since Saturday, miss." And then, evidently impressed by +the young lady's looks, he added hospitably, "Kin I do anything fo' you, +miss?" + +"I'm his niece, Miss Virginia Carvel, and this is Captain Brent." + +The yellow butler's face lighted up. + +"Come right in, Miss Jinny, Done heerd de General speak of you often +--yas'm. De General'll be to home dis a'ternoon, suah. 'Twill do him good +ter see you, Miss Jinny. He's been mighty lonesome. Walk right in, Cap'n, +and make yo'selves at home. Lizbeth--Lizbeth!" + +A yellow maid came running down the stairs. "Heah's Miss Jinny." + +"Lan' of goodness!" cried Lizbeth. "I knows Miss Jinny. Done seed her at +Calve't House. How is you, Miss Jinny?" + +"Very well, Lizbeth," said Virginia, listlessly sitting down on the hall +sofa. "Can you give us some breakfast?" + +"Yas'm," said Lizbeth, "jes' reckon we kin." She ushered them into a +walnut dining room, big and high and sombre, with plush-bottomed chairs +placed about--walnut also; for that was the fashion in those days. But +the Captain had no sooner seated himself than he shot up again and +started out. + +"Where are you going, Lige?" + +"To pay off the carriage driver," he said. + +"Let him wait," said Virginia. "I'm going to the White House in a little +while." + +"What--what for?" he gasped. + +"To see your Black Republican President," she replied, with alarming +calmness. + +"Now, Jinny," he cried, in excited appeal, "don't go doin' any such fool +trick as that. Your Uncle Dan'l will be here this afternoon. He knows the +President. And then the thing'll be fixed all right, and no mistake." + +Her reply was in the same tone--almost a monotone--which she had used for +three days. It made the Captain very uneasy, for he knew when she spoke +in that way that her will was in it. + +"And to lose that time," she answered, "may be to have him shot." + +"But you can't get to the President without credentials," he objected. + +"What," she flashed, "hasn't any one a right to see the President? You +mean to say that he will not see a woman in trouble? Then all these +pretty stories I hear of him are false. They are made up by the Yankees." + +Poor Captain Lige! He had some notion of the multitude of calls upon Mr. +Lincoln, especially at that time. But he could not, he dared not, remind +her of the principal reason for this,--Lee's surrender and the +approaching end of the war. And then the Captain had never seen Mr. +Lincoln. In the distant valley of the Mississippi he had only heard of +the President very conflicting things. He had heard him criticised and +reviled and praised, just as is every man who goes to the White House, be +he saint or sinner. And, during an administration, no man at a distance +may come at a President's true character and worth. The Captain had seen +Lincoln caricatured vilely. And again he had read and heard the pleasant +anecdotes of which Virginia had spoken, until he did not know what to +believe. + +As for Virginia, he knew her partisanship to, and undying love for, the +South; he knew the class prejudice which was bound to assert itself, and +he had seen enough in the girl's demeanor to fear that she was going to +demand rather than implore. She did not come of a race that was wont to +bend the knee. + +"Well, well," he said despairingly, "you must eat some breakfast first, +Jinny." + +She waited with an ominous calmness until it was brought in, and then she +took a part of a roll and some coffee. + +"This won't do," exclaimed the Captain. "Why, why, that won't get you +halfway to Mr. Lincoln." + +She shook her head, half smiling. + +"You must eat enough, Lige," she said. + +He was finished in an incredibly short time, and amid the protestations +of Lizbeth and the yellow butler they got into the carriage again, and +splashed and rattled toward the White House. Once Virginia glanced out, +and catching sight of the bedraggled flags on the houses in honor of +Lee's surrender, a look of pain crossed her face. The Captain could not +repress a note of warning. + +"Jinny," said he, "I have an idea that you'll find the President a good +deal of a man. Now if you're allowed to see him, don't get him mad, +Jinny, whatever you do." + +Virginia stared straight ahead. + +"If he is something of a man, Lige, he will not lose his temper with a +woman." + +Captain Lige subsided. And just then they came in sight of the house of +the Presidents, with its beautiful portico and its broad wings. And they +turned in under the dripping trees of the grounds. A carriage with a +black coachman and footman was ahead of them, and they saw two stately +gentlemen descend from it and pass the guard at the door. Then their turn +came. The Captain helped her out in his best manner, and gave some money +to the driver. + +"I reckon he needn't wait for us this time, Jinny," said be. She shook +her head and went in, he following, and they were directed to the +anteroom of the President's office on the second floor. There were many +people in the corridors, and one or two young officers in blue who stared +at her. She passed them with her head high. + +But her spirits sank when they came to the anteroom. It was full of all +sorts of people. Politicians, both prosperous and seedy, full faced and +keen faced, seeking office; women, officers, and a one-armed soldier +sitting in the corner. He was among the men who offered Virginia their +seats, and the only one whom she thanked. But she walked directly to the +doorkeeper at the end of the room. Captain Lige was beside her. + +"Can we see the President?" he asked. + +"Have you got an appointment?" said the old man. + +"No." + +"Then you'll have to wait your turn, sir," he said, shaking his head and +looking at Virginia. And he added. "It's slow work waiting your turn, +there's so many governors and generals and senators, although the +session's over. It's a busy time, miss." + +Virginia went very close to him. + +"Oh, can't you do something?" she said. And added, with an inspiration, +"I must see him. It's a matter of life and death." + +She saw instantly, with a woman's instinct, that these words had had +their effect. The old man glanced at her again, as if demurring. + +"You're sure, miss, it's life and death?" he said. + +"Oh, why should I say so if it were not?" she cried. + +"The orders are very strict," he said. "But the President told me to give +precedence to cases when a life is in question. Just you wait a minute, +miss, until Governor Doddridge comes out, and I'll see what I can do for +you. Give me your name, please, miss." + +She remained standing where she was. In a little while the heavy door +opened, and a portly, rubicund man came out with a smile on his face. He +broke into a laugh, when halfway across the room, as if the memory of +what he had heard were too much for his gravity. The doorkeeper slipped +into the room, and there was a silent, anxious interval. Then he came out +again. + +"The President will see you, miss." + +Captain Lige started forward with her, but she restrained him. + +"Wait for me here, Lige," she said. + +She swept in alone, and the door closed softly after her. The room was a +big one, and there were maps on the table, with pins sticking in them. +She saw that much, and then--! + +Could this fantastically tall, stooping figure before her be that of the +President of the United States? She stopped, as from the shock he gave +her. The lean, yellow face with the mask-like lines all up and down, the +unkempt, tousled hair, the beard--why, he was a hundred times more +ridiculous than his caricatures. He might have stood for many of the poor +white trash farmers she had seen in Kentucky--save for the long black +coat. + +"Is--is this Mr. Lincoln?" she asked, her breath taken away. + +He bowed and smiled down at her. Somehow that smile changed his face a +little. + +"I guess I'll have to own up," he answered. + +"My name is Virginia Carvel," she said. "I have come all the way from St. +Louis to see you." + +"Miss Carvel," said the President, looking at her intently, "I have +rarely been so flattered in my life. I--I hope I have not disappointed +you." + +Virginia was justly angry. + +"Oh, you haven't," she cried, her eyes flashing, "because I am what you +would call a Rebel." + +The mirth in the dark corners of his eyes disturbed her more and more. +And then she saw that the President was laughing. + +"And have you a better name for it, Miss Carvel?" he asked. "Because I am +searching for a better name--just now." + +She was silent--sternly silent. And she tapped her foot on the carpet. +What manner of man was this? "Won't you sit down?" said the President, +kindly. "You must be tired after your journey." And he put forth a chair. + +"No, thank you," said Virginia; "I think that I can say what I have come +to say better standing." + +"Well," said Mr. Lincoln, "that's not strange. I'm that way, too. The +words seem to come out better. That reminds me of a story they tell about +General Buck Tanner. Ever heard of Buck, Miss Carvel? No? Well, Buck was +a character. He got his title in the Mormon war. One day the boys asked +him over to the square to make a speech. The General was a little uneasy. + +"'I'm all right when I get standing up, Liza,' he said to his wife. Then +the words come right along. Only trouble is they come too cussed fast. +How'm I going to stop 'em when I want to?' + +"'Well, I du declare, Buck,' said she, 'I gave you credit for some sense. +All you've got to do is to set down. That'll end it, I reckon.' + +"So the General went over to the square and talked for about an hour and +a half, and then a Chicago man shouted to him to dry up. The General +looked pained. + +"'Boys,' said he, 'it's jest every bit as bad for me as it is for you. +You'll have to hand up a chair, boys, because I'm never going to get shet +of this goldarned speech any anther way.'" + +Mr. Lincoln had told this so comically that Virginia was forced to laugh, +and she immediately hated herself. A man who could joke at such a time +certainly could not feel the cares and responsibilities of his office. He +should have been a comedian. And yet this was the President who had +conducted the war, whose generals had conquered the Confederacy. And she +was come to ask him a favor. Virginia swallowed her pride. + +"Mr. Lincoln," she began, "I have come to talk to you about my cousin, +Colonel Clarence Colfax." + +"I shall be happy to talk to you about your cousin, Colonel Colfax, Miss +Carvel. Is he your third or fourth cousin?" + +"He is my first cousin," she retorted. + +"Is he in the city?" asked Mr. Lincoln, innocently. "Why didn't he come +with you?" + +"Oh, haven't you heard?" she cried. "He is Clarence Colfax, of St. Louis, +now a Colonel in the army of the Confederate States." + +"Which army?" asked Mr. Lincoln. Virginia tossed her head in +exasperation. + +"In General Joseph Johnston's army," she replied, trying to be patient. +"But now," she gulped, "now he has been arrested as a spy by General +Sherman's army." + +"That's too bad," answered Mr. Lincoln. + +"And--and they are going to shoot him." + +"That's worse," said Mr. Lincoln, gravely. "But I expect he deserves it." + +"Oh, no, he doesn't," she cried. "You don't know how brave he is! He +floated down the Mississippi on a log, out of Vicksburg, and brought back +thousands and thousands of percussion caps. He rowed across the river +when the Yankee fleet was going down, and set fire to De Soto so that +they could see to shoot." + +"Well," said Mr. Lincoln, "that's a good starter." Then he looked +thoughtful. + +"Miss Carvel," said he, "that argument reminds me of a story about a man +I used to know in the old days in Illinois. His name was McNeil, and he +was a lawyer. + +"One day he was defending a prisoner for assault and battery before Judge +Drake. + +"'Judge, says McNeil, 'you oughtn't to lock this man up. It was a fair +fight, and he's the best man in the state in a fair fight. And, what's +more, he's never been licked in a fair fight in his life.' + +"'And if your honor does lock me up,' the prisoner put in, 'I'll give +your honor a thunderin' big lickin' when I get out.' + +"The Judge took off his coat. + +"'Gentlemen,' said he, 'it's a powerful queer argument, but the Court +will admit it on its merits. The prisoner will please to step out on the +grass.'" + +This time Virginia contrived merely to smile. She was striving against +something, she knew not what. Her breath was coming deeply, and she was +dangerously near to tears. Why? She could not tell. She had come into +this man's presence despising herself for having to ask him a favor. The +sight of his face she had ridiculed. Now she could not look into it +without an odd sensation. What was in it? Sorrow? Yes, that was nearest +it. + +What had the man done? Told her a few funny stories--given quizzical +answers to some of her questions. Quizzical, yes; but she could not be +sure then there was not wisdom in them, and that humiliated her. She had +never conceived of such a man. And, be it added gratuitously, Virginia +deemed herself something of an adept in dealing with men. + +"And now," said Mr. Lincoln, "to continue for the defence, I believe that +Colonel Colfax first distinguished himself at the time of Camp Jackson, +when of all the prisoners he refused to accept a parole." + +Startled, she looked up at him swiftly, and then down again. "Yes," she +answered, "yes. But oh, Mr. Lincoln, please don't hold that against him." + +If she could only have seen his face then. But her lashes were dropped. + +"My dear young lady," replied the President, "I honor him for it. I was +merely elaborating the argument which you have begun. On the other hand, +it is a pity that he should have taken off that uniform which he adorned +and attempted to enter General Sherman's lines as a civilian,--as a spy." + +He had spoken these last words very gently, but she was too excited to +heed his gentleness. She drew herself up, a gleam in her eyes like the +crest of a blue wave in a storm. + +"A spy!" she cried; "it takes more courage to be a spy than anything else +in war. Then he will be shot. You are not content in, the North with what +you have gained. You are not content with depriving us of our rights, and +our fortunes, with forcing us back to an allegiance we despise. You are +not content with humiliating our generals and putting innocent men in +prisons. But now I suppose you will shoot us all. And all this mercy that +I have heard about means nothing--nothing--" + +Why did she falter and stop? + +"Miss Carvel," said the President, "I am afraid from what I have heard +just now, that it means nothing." Oh, the sadness of that voice,--the +ineffable sadness,--the sadness and the woe of a great nation! And the +sorrow in those eyes, the sorrow of a heavy cross borne meekly,--how +heavy none will ever know. The pain of a crown of thorns worn for a world +that did not understand. No wonder Virginia faltered and was silent. She +looked at Abraham Lincoln standing there, bent and sorrowful, and it was +as if a light had fallen upon him. But strangest of all in that strange +moment was that she felt his strength. It was the same strength she had +felt in Stephen Brice. This was the thought that came to her. + +Slowly she walked to the window and looked out across the green grounds +where the wind was shaking the wet trees, past the unfinished monument to +the Father of her country, and across the broad Potomac to Alexandria in +the hazy distance. The rain beat upon the panes, and then she knew that +she was crying softly to herself. She had met a force that she could not +conquer, she had looked upon a sorrow that she could not fathom, albeit +she had known sorrow. + +Presently she felt him near. She turned and looked through her tears at +his face that was all compassion. And now she was unashamed. He had +placed a chair behind her. + +"Sit down, Virginia," he said. Even the name fell from him naturally. + +She obeyed him then like a child. He remained standing. + +"Tell me about your cousin," he said; "are you going to marry him?" + +She hung an instant on her answer. Would that save Clarence? But in that +moment she could not have spoken anything but the truth to save her soul. + +"No, Mr. Lincoln," she said; "I was--but I did not love him. I--I think +that was one reason why he was so reckless." + +Mr. Lincoln smiled. + +"The officer who happened to see Colonel Colfax captured is now in +Washington. When your name was given to me, I sent for him. Perhaps he is +in the anteroom now. I should like to tell you, first of all, that this +officer defended your cousin and asked me to pardon him." + +"He defended him! He asked you to pardon him! Who is he?" she exclaimed. + +Again Mr. Lincoln smiled. He strode to the bell-cord, and spoke a few +words to the usher who answered his ring. + +The usher went out. Then the door opened, and a young officer, spare, +erect, came quickly into the room, and bowed respectfully to the +President. But Mr. Lincoln's eyes were not on him. They were on the girl. +He saw her head lifted, timidly. He saw her lips part and the color come +flooding into her face. But she did not rise. + +The President sighed But the light in her eyes was reflected in his own. +It has been truly said that Abraham Lincoln knew the human heart. + +The officer still stood facing the President, the girl staring at his +profile. The door closed behind him. "Major Brice," said Mr. Lincoln, +when you asked me to pardon Colonel Colfax, I believe that you told me he +was inside his own skirmish lines when he was captured." + +"Yes, sir, he was." + +Suddenly Stephen turned, as if impelled by the President's gaze, and so +his eyes met Virginia's. He forgot time and place,--for the while even +this man whom he revered above all men. He saw her hand tighten on the +arm of her chair. He took a step toward her, and stopped. Mr. Lincoln was +speaking again. + +"He put in a plea, a lawyer's plea, wholly unworthy of him, Miss +Virginia. He asked me to let your cousin off on a technicality. What do +you think of that?" + +"Oh!" said Virginia. Just the exclamation escaped her--nothing more. The +crimson that had betrayed her deepened on her cheeks. Slowly the eyes she +had yielded to Stephen came back again and rested on the President. And +now her wonder was that an ugly man could be so beautiful. + +"I wish it understood, Mr. Lawyer," the President continued, "that I am +not letting off Colonel Colfax on a technicality. I am sparing his life," +he said slowly, "because the time for which we have been waiting and +longing for four years is now at hand--the time to be merciful. Let us +all thank God for it." + +Virginia had risen now. She crossed the room, her head lifted, her heart +lifted, to where this man of sorrows stood smiling down at her. + +"Mr. Lincoln," she faltered, "I did not know you when I came here. I +should have known you, for I had heard him--I had heard Major Brice +praise you. Oh," she cried, "how I wish that every man and woman and +child in the South might come here and see you as I have seen you to-day. +I think--I think that some of their bitterness might be taken away." + +Abraham Lincoln laid his hands upon the girl. And Stephen, watching, knew +that he was looking upon a benediction. + +"Virginia," said Mr. Lincoln, "I have not suffered by the South, I have +suffered with the South Your sorrow has been my sorrow, and your pain has +been my pain. What you have lost, I have lost. And what you have gained," +he added sublimely, "I have gained." + +He led her gently to the window. The clouds were flying before the wind, +and a patch of blue sky shone above the Potomac. With his long arm he +pointed across the river to the southeast, and as if by a miracle a shaft +of sunlight fell on the white houses of Alexandria. + +"In the first days of the war," he said, "a flag flew there in sight of +the place where George Washington lived and died. I used to watch that +flag, and thank God that Washington had not lived to see it. And +sometimes, sometimes I wondered if God had allowed it to be put in irony +just there." His voice seemed to catch. "That was wrong," he continued. +"I should have known that this was our punishment--that the sight of it +was my punishment. Before we could become the great nation He has +destined us to be, our sins must be wiped out in blood. You loved that +flag, Virginia. You love it still. + +"I say in all sincerity, may you always love it. May the day come when +this Nation, North and South, may look back upon it with reverence. +Thousands upon thousands of brave Americans have died under it for what +they believed was right. But may the day come again when you will love +that flag you see there now--Washington's flag--better still." + +He stopped, and the tears were wet upon Virginia's lashes. She could not +have spoken then. + +Mr. Lincoln went over to his desk and sat down before it. Then he began +to write, slouched forward, one knee resting on the floor, his lips +moving at the same time. When he got up again he seemed taller than ever. + +"There!" he said, "I guess that will fix it. I'll have that sent to +Sherman. I have already spoken to him about the matter." + +They did not thank him. It was beyond them both. He turned to Stephen +with that quizzical look on his face he had so often seen him wear. + +"Steve," he said, "I'll tell you a story. The other night Harlan was here +making a speech to a crowd out of the window, and my boy Tad was sitting +behind him. + +"'What shall we do with the Rebels?' said Harlan to the crowd. + +"'Hang 'em!' cried the people. "'No,' says Tad, 'hang on to 'em.' + +"And the boy was right. That is what we intend to do,--hang on to 'em. +And, Steve," said Mr. Lincoln, putting his hand again on Virginia's +shoulder, "if you have the sense I think you have, you'll hang on, too." + +For an instant he stood smiling at their blushes,--he to whom the power +was given to set apart his cares and his troubles and partake of the +happiness of others. For of such was his happiness. + +Then the President drew out his watch. "Bless me!" he said, "I am ten +minutes behind my appointment at the Department. Miss Virginia, you may +care to thank the Major for the little service he has done you. You can +do so undisturbed here. Make yourselves at home." + +As he opened the door he paused and looked back at them. The smile passed +from his face, and an ineffable expression of longing--longing and +tenderness--came upon it. + +Then he was gone. + +For a space, while his spell was upon them, they did not stir. Then +Stephen sought her eyes that had been so long denied him. They were not +denied him now. It was Virginia who first found her voice, and she called +him by his name. + +"Oh, Stephen," she said, "how sad he looked!" + +He was close to her, at her side. And he answered her in the earnest tone +which she knew so well. + +"Virginia, if I could have had what I most wished for in the world, I +should have asked that you should know Abraham Lincoln." + +Then she dropped her eyes, and her breath came quickly. + +"I--I might have known," she answered, "I might have known what he was. I +had heard you talk of him. I had seen him in you, and I did not know. Do +you remember that day when we were in the summer-house together at +Glencoe, long ago? When you had come back from seeing him?" + +"As yesterday," he said. + +"You were changed then," she said bravely. "I saw it. Now I understand. +It was because you had seen Mr. Lincoln." + +"When I saw him," said Stephen, reverently, "I knew how little and narrow +I was." + +Then, overcome by the incense of her presence, he drew her to him until +her heart beat against his own. She did not resist, but lifted her face +to him, and he kissed her. + +"You love me, Virginia!" he cried. + +"Yes, Stephen," she answered, low, more wonderful in her surrender than +ever before. "Yes--dear." Then she hid her face against his blue coat. +"I--I cannot help it. Oh, Stephen, how I have struggled against it! How I +have tried to hate you, and couldn't. No, I couldn't. I tried to insult +you, I did insult you. And when I saw how splendidly you bore it, I used +to cry." He kissed her brown hair. + +"I loved you through it all," he said. + +"Virginia!" + +"Yes, dearest." + +"Virginia, did you dream of me?" + +She raised her head quickly, and awe was in her eyes. "How did you know?" + +"Because I dreamed of you," he answered. And those dreams used to linger +with me half the day as I went about my work. I used to think of them as +I sat in the saddle on the march." + +"I, too, treasured them," she said. "And I hated myself for doing it." + +"Virginia, will you marry me?" + +"Yes." + +"To-morrow?" + +"Yes, dear, to-morrow." Faintly, "I have no one but you--now." + +Once more he drew her to him, and she gloried in his strength. + +"God help me to cherish you, dear," he said, "and guard you well." + +She drew away from him, gently, and turned toward the window. + +"See, Stephen," she cried, "the sun has come out at last." + +For a while they were silent, looking out; the drops glistened on blade +and leaf, and the joyous new green of the earth entered into their +hearts. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +ANNAPOLIS + +IT was Virginia's wish, and was therefore sacred. As for Stephen, he +little cared whither they went. And so they found themselves on that +bright afternoon in mid-April under the great trees that arch the unpaved +streets of old Annapolis. + +They stopped by direction at a gate, and behind it was a green cluster of +lilac bushes, which lined the walk to the big plum-colored house which +Lionel Carvel had built. Virginia remembered that down this walk on a +certain day in June, a hundred years agone, Richard Carvel had led +Dorothy Manners. + +They climbed the steps, tottering now with age and disuse, and Virginia +playfully raised the big brass knocker, brown now, that Scipio had been +wont to polish until it shone. Stephen took from his pocket the clumsy +key that General Carvel had given him, and turned it in the rusty lock. +The door swung open, and Virginia stood in the hall of her ancestors. + +It was musty and damp this day as the day when Richard had come back from +England and found it vacant and his grandfather dead. But there, at the +parting of the stairs, was the triple-arched window which he had +described. Through it the yellow afternoon light was flooding now, even +as then, checkered by the branches in their first fringe of green. But +the tall clock which Lionel Carvel used to wind was at Calvert House, +with many another treasure. + +They went up the stairs, and reverently they walked over the bare floors, +their footfalls echoing through the silent house. A score of scenes in +her great-grandfather's life came to Virginia. Here was the room--the +cornet one at the back of the main building, which looked out over the +deserted garden--that had been Richard's mother's. She recalled how he +had stolen into it on that summer's day after his return, and had flung +open the shutters. They were open now, for their locks were off. The +prie-dieu was gone, and the dresser. But the high bed was there, stripped +of its poppy counterpane and white curtains; and the steps by which she +had entered it. + +And next they went into the great square room that had been Lionel +Carvel's, and there, too, was the roomy bed on which the old gentleman +had lain with the gout, while Richard read to him from the Spectator. One +side of it looked out on the trees in Freshwater Lane; and the other +across the roof of the low house opposite to where the sun danced on the +blue and white waters of the Chesapeake. + +"Honey," said Virginia, as they stood in the deep recess of the window, +"wouldn't it be nice if we could live here always, away from the world? +Just we two! But you would never be content to do that," she said, +smiling reproachfully. "You are the kind of man who must be in the midst +of things. In a little while you will have far more besides me to think +about." + +He was quick to catch the note of sadness in her voice. And he drew her +to him. + +"We all have our duty to perform in the world, dear," he answered. "It +cannot be all pleasure." + +"You--you Puritan!" she cried. "To think that I should have married a +Puritan! What would my great-great-great-great-grandfather say, who was +such a stanch Royalist? Why, I think I can see him frowning at me now, +from the door, in his blue velvet goat and silverlaced waistcoat." + +"He was well punished," retorted Stephen, "his own grandson was a Whig, +and seems to have married a woman of spirit." + +"She had spirit," said Virginia. "I am sure that she did not allow my +great-grandfather to kiss her--unless she wanted to." + +And she looked up at him, half smiling, half pouting; altogether +bewitching. + +"From what I hear of him, he was something of a man," said Stephen. +"Perhaps he did it anyway." + +"I am glad that Marlborough Street isn't a crowded thoroughfare," said +Virginia. + +When they had seen the dining room, with its carved mantel and silver +door-knobs, and the ballroom in the wing, they came out, and Stephen +locked the door again. They walked around the house, and stood looking +down the terraces,--once stately, but crumbled now,--where Dorothy had +danced on the green on Richard's birthday. Beyond and below was the +spring-house, and there was the place where the brook dived under the +ruined wall,--where Dorothy had wound into her hair the lilies of the +valley before she sailed for London. + +The remains of a wall that had once held a balustrade marked the outlines +of the formal garden. The trim hedges, for seventy years neglected, had +grown incontinent. The garden itself was full of wild green things coming +up through the brown of last season's growth. But in the grass the blue +violets nestled, and Virginia picked some of these and put them in +Stephen's coat. + +"You must keep them always," she said, "because we got them here." + +They spied a seat beside a hoary trunk. There on many a spring day Lionel +Carvel had sat reading his Gazette. And there they rested now. The sun +hung low over the old-world gables in the street beyond the wall, and in +the level rays was an apple tree dazzling white, like a bride. The sweet +fragrance which the day draws from the earth lingered in the air. + +It was Virginia who broke the silence. + +"Stephen, do you remember that fearful afternoon of the panic, when you +came over from Anne Brinsmade's to reassure me?" + +"Yes, dear," he said. "But what made you think of it now?" + +She did not answer him directly. + +"I believed what you said, Stephen. But you were so strong, so calm, so +sure of yourself. I think that made me angry when I thought how +ridiculous I must have been." + +He pressed her hand. + +"You were not ridiculous, Jinny." She laughed. + +"I was not as ridiculous as Mr. Cluyme with his bronze clock. But do you +know what I had under my arm--what I was saving of all the things I +owned?" + +"No," he answered; "but I have often wondered." She blushed. + +"This house--this place made me think of it. It was Dorothy Manners's +gown, and her necklace. I could not leave them. They were all the +remembrance I had of that night at Mr. Brinsmade's gate, when we came so +near to each other." + +"Virginia," he said, "some force that we cannot understand has brought us +together, some force that we could not hinder. It is foolish for me to +say so, but on that day of the slave auction, when I first saw you, I had +a premonition about you that I have never admitted until now, even to +myself." + +She started. + +"Why, Stephen," she cried, "I felt the same way!" + +"And then," he continued quickly, "it was strange that I should have gone +to Judge Whipple, who was an intimate of your father's--such a singular +intimate. And then came your party, and Glencoe, and that curious +incident at the Fair." + +"When I was talking to the Prince, and looked up and saw you among all +those people." + +He laughed. + +"That was the most uncomfortable of all, for me." + +"Stephen," she said, stirring the leaves at her feet, "you might have +taken me in your arms the night Judge Whipple died--if you had wanted to. +But you were strong enough to resist. I love you all the more for that." + +Again she said:-- "It was through your mother, dearest, that we were most +strongly drawn together. I worshipped her from the day I saw her in the +hospital. I believe that was the beginning of my charity toward the +North." + +"My mother would have chosen you above all women, Virginia," he answered. + +In the morning came to them the news of Abraham Lincoln's death. And the +same thought was in both their hearts, who had known him as it was given +to few to know him. How he had lived in sorrow; how he had died a martyr +on the very day of Christ's death upon the cross. And they believed that +Abraham Lincoln gave his life for his country even as Christ gave his for +the world. + +And so must we believe that God has reserved for this Nation a destiny +high upon the earth. + +Many years afterward Stephen Brice read again to his wife those sublime +closing words of the second inaugural:-- + + "With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the + right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish + the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him + who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his children + --to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace + among ourselves and with all nations." + + + + +AFTERWORD + +The author has chosen St. Louis for the principal scene of this story for +many reasons. Grant and Sherman were living there before the Civil War, +and Abraham Lincoln was an unknown lawyer in the neighboring state of +Illinois. It has been one of the aims of this book to show the remarkable +contrasts in the lives of these great men who came out of the West. This +old city of St. Louis, which was founded by Laclede in 1765, likewise +became the principal meeting-place of two great streams of emigration +which had been separated, more or less, since Cromwell's day. To be sure, +they were not all Cavaliers who settled in the tidewater Colonies. There +were Puritan settlements in both Maryland and Virginia. But the life in +the Southern states took on the more liberal tinge which had +characterized that of the Royalists, even to the extent of affecting the +Scotch Calvinists, while the asceticism of the Roundheads was the keynote +of the Puritan character in New England. When this great country of ours +began to develop, the streams moved westward; one over what became the +plain states of Ohio and Indiana and Illinois, and the other across the +Blue Ridge Mountains into Kentucky and Tennessee. They mixed along the +line of the Ohio River. They met at St. Louis, and, farther west, in +Kansas. + +Nor can the German element in St. Louis be ignored. The part played by +this people in the Civil War is a matter of history. The scope of this +book has not permitted the author to introduce the peasantry and trading +classes which formed the mass in this movement. But Richter, the type of +the university-bred revolutionist which emigrated after '48, is drawn +more or less from life. And the duel described actually took place in +Berlin. + +St. Louis is the author's birthplace, and his home, the home of those +friends whom he has known from childhood and who have always treated him +with unfaltering kindness. He begs that they will believe him when he +says that only such characters as he loves are reminiscent of those he +has known there. The city has a large population,--large enough to +include all the types that are to be found in the middle West. + +One word more. This book is written of a time when feeling ran high. It +has been necessary to put strong speech into the mouths of the +characters. The breach that threatened our country's existence is healed +now. There is no side but Abraham Lincoln's side. And this side, with all +reverence and patriotism, the author has tried to take. + +Abraham Lincoln loved the South as well as the North. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Crisis, Volume 8, by Winston Churchill + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRISIS, VOLUME 8 *** + +***** This file should be named 5395.txt or 5395.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/9/5395/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** + + +Title: The Crisis, Volume 8. + +Author: Winston Churchill (USA author, not Sir Winston Churchill) + +Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5395] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on June 28, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRISIS, V8, BY CHURCHILL *** + + + +This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + + + +[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the +file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an +entire meal of them. D.W.] + + + + + +THE CRISIS + +By Winston Churchill + + +Volume 8. + + +XII. The Last Card +XIII. From the Letters of Major Stephen Brice +XIV. The Same, Continued +XV. The Man of Sorrows +XVI. Annapolis + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE LAST CARD + +Mr. Brinsmade and the Doctor were the first to leave the little room +where Silas Whipple had lived and worked and died, Mr. Brinsmade bent +upon one of those errands which claimed him at all times. He took +Shadrach with him. Virginia sat on, a vague fear haunting her,--a fear +for her father's safety. Where was Clarence? What had he seen? Was the +place watched? These questions, at first intruding upon her sorrow, +remained to torture her. + +Softly she stirred from the chair where she had sat before the piano, and +opened the door of the outer office. A clock in a steeple near by was +striking twelve. The Colonel did not raise his head. Only Stephen saw +her go; she felt his eyes following her, and as she slipped out lifted +hers to meet them for a brief instant through the opening of the door. +Then it closed behind her. + +First of all she knew that the light in the outer office was burning +dimly, and the discovery gave her a shock. Who had turned it down? Had +Clarence? Was he here? Fearfully searching the room for him, her gaze +was held by a figure in the recess of the window at the back of the room. +A solid, bulky figure it was, and, though uncertainly outlined in the +semi-darkness, she knew it. She took a step nearer, and a cry escaped +her. + +The man was Eliphalet Hopper. He got down from the sill with a motion at +once sheepish and stealthy. Her breath caught, and instinctively she +gave back toward the door, as if to open it again. + +"Hold on!" he said. "I've got something I want to say to you, Miss +Virginia." + +His tones seemed strangely natural. They were not brutal. But she +shivered and paused, horrified at the thought of what she was about to +do. Her father was in that room--and Stephen. She must keep them there, +and get this man away. She must not show fright before him, and yet she +could not trust her voice to speak just then. She must not let him know +that she was afraid of him--this she kept repeating to herself. But how +to act? Suddenly an idea flashed upon her. + +Virginia never knew how she gathered the courage to pass him, even +swiftly, and turn up the gas. He started back, blinking as the jet +flared. For a moment she stood beside it, with her head high; +confronting him and striving to steady herself for speech. + +"Why have you come here?" she said. "Judge Whipple--died--to-night." + +The dominating note in his answer was a whine, as if, in spite of +himself, he were awed. + +"I ain't here to see the Judge." + +She was pale, and quite motionless. And she faltered now. She felt her +lips moving, but knew not whether the words had come. + +"What do you mean?" + +He gained confidence. The look in his little eyes was the filmy look of +those of an animal feasting. + +"I came here to see you," he said,--you." She was staring at him now, +in horror. And if you don't give me what I want, I cal'late to see some +one else--in there," said Mr. Hopper. + +He smiled, for she was swaying, her lids half closed. By a supreme +effort she conquered her terror and looked at him. The look was in his +eyes still, intensified now. + +"How dare you speak to me after what has happened! she said. If Colonel +Carvel were here, he would--kill you." + +He flinched at the name and the word, involuntarily. He wiped his +forehead, hot at the very thought. + +"I want to know!" he exclaimed, in faint-hearted irony. Then, +remembering his advantage, he stepped close to her, + + +"He is here," he said, intense now. "He is here, in that there room." +He seized her wrists. Virginia struggled, and yet she refrained from +crying out. "He never leaves this city without I choose. I can have him +hung if I choose," he whispered, next to her. + +"Oh!" she cried; "oh, if you choose!" + +Still his body crept closer, and his face closer. And her strength was +going. + +"There's but one price to pay," he said hoarsely, "there's but one price +to pay, and that's you--you. I cal'late you'll marry me now." + +Delirious at the touch of her, he did not hear the door open. Her senses +were strained for that very sound. She heard it close again, and a +footstep across the room. She knew the step--she knew the voice, and her +heart leaped at the sound of it in anger. An arm in a blue sleeve came +between them, and Eliphalet Hopper staggered and fell across the books on +the table, his hand to his face. Above him towered Stephen Brice. +Towered was the impression that came to Virginia then, and so she thought +of the scene ever afterward. Small bits, like points of tempered steel, +glittered in Stephen's eyes, and his hands following up the mastery he +had given them clutched Mr. Hopper's shoulders. Twice Stephen shook him +so that his head beat upon the table. + +"You--you beast!" he cried, but he kept his voice low. And then, as if +he expected Hopper to reply: "Shall I kill you?" + +Again he shook him violently. He felt Virginia's touch on his arm. + +"Stephen !" she cried, "your wounds! Be careful! Oh, do be careful!" + +She had called him Stephen. He turned slowly, and his hands fell from +Mr. Hopper's cowering form as his eyes met hers. Even he could not +fathom the appeal, the yearning, in their dark blue depths. And yet what +he saw there made him tremble. She turned away, trembling too. + +"Please sit down," she entreated. "He--he won't touch me again while you +are here." + +Eliphalet Hopper raised himself from the desk, and one of the big books +fell with a crash to the floor. Then they saw him shrink, his eyes fixed +upon some one behind them. Before the Judge's door stood Colonel Carvel, +in calm, familiar posture, his feet apart, and his head bent forward as +he pulled at his goatee. + +"What is this man doing here, Virginia?" he asked. She did not answer +him, nor did speech seem to come easily to Mr. Hopper in that instant. +Perhaps the sight of Colonel Carvel had brought before him too, vividly +the memory of that afternoon at Glencoe. + +All at once Virginia grasped the fulness of the power in this man's +hands. At a word from him her father would be shot as a spy--and Stephen +Brice, perhaps, as a traitor. But if Colonel Carvel should learn that he +had seized her,--here was the terrible danger of the situation. Well she +knew what the Colonel would do. Would. Stephen tell him? She trusted +in his coolness that he would not. + +Before a word of reply came from any of the three, a noise was heard on +the stairway. Some one was coming up. There followed four seconds of +suspense, and then Clarence came in. She saw that his face wore a +worried, dejected look. It changed instantly when he glanced about him, +and an oath broke from his lips as he singled out Eliphalet Hopper +standing in sullen aggressiveness, beside the table. + +"So you're the spy, are you?" he said in disgust. Then he turned his +back and faced his uncle. "I saw, him in Williams's entry as we drove +up. He got away from me." + +A thought seemed to strike him. He strode to the open window at the back +of the office, and looked out, There was a roof under it. + +"The sneak got in here," he said. "He knew I was waiting for him in the +street. So you're the spy, are you?" + +Mr. Hopper passed a heavy hand across the cheek where Stephen had struck +him. + +"No, I ain't the spy," he said, with a meaning glance at the Colonel. + +"Then what are you doing here?" demanded Clarence, fiercely. + +"I cal'late that he knows," Eliphalet replied, jerking his head toward +Colonel Carvel. "Where's his Confederate uniform? What's to prevent my +calling up the provost's guard below?" he continued, with a smile that +was hideous on his swelling face. + +It was the Colonel who answered him, very quickly and very clearly. + +"Nothing whatever, Mr. Hopper," he said. "This is the way out." He +pointed at the door. Stephen, who was watching him, could not tell +whether it were a grim smile that creased the corners of the Colonel's +mouth as he added. "You might prefer the window." + +Mr. Hopper did not move, but his eyes shifted to Virginia's form. +Stephen deliberately thrust himself between them that he might not see +her. + +"What are you waiting for?" said the Colonel, in the mild voice that +should have been an ominous warning. Still Mr. Hopper did not move. It +was clear that he had not reckoned upon all of this; that he had waited +in the window to deal with Virginia alone. But now the very force of a +desire which had gathered strength in many years made him reckless. His +voice took on the oily quality in which he was wont to bargain. + +"Let's be calm about this business, Colonel," he said. "We won't say +anything about the past. But I ain't set on having you shot. There's a +consideration that would stop me, and I cal'late you know what it is." + +Then the Colonel made a motion. But before he had taken a step Virginia +had crossed the room swiftly, and flung herself upon him. + +"Oh, don't, Pa!" she cried. "Don't! Tell him that I will agree to it. +Yes, I will. I can't have you--shot." The last word came falteringly, +faintly. + +"Let me go,--honey," whispered the Colonel, gently. His eyes did not +leave Eliphalet. He tried to disengage himself, but her fingers were +clasped about his neck in a passion of fear and love. And then, while +she clung to him, her head was raised to listen. The sound of Stephen +Brice's voice held her as in a spell. His words were coming coldly, +deliberately, and yet so sharply that each seemed to fall like a lash. + +"Mr. Hopper, if ever I hear of your repeating what you have seen or heard +in this room, I will make this city and this state too hot for you to +live in. I know you. I know how you hide in areas, how you talk +sedition in private, how you have made money out of other men's misery. +And, what is more, I can prove that you have had traitorous dealings with +the Confederacy. General Sherman has been good enough to call himself a +friend of mine, and if he prosecutes you for your dealings in Memphis, +you will get a term in a Government prison, You ought to be hung. +Colonel Carvel has shown you the door. Now go." + +And Mr, Hopper went. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +FROM THE LETTERS OF MAJOR STEPHEN BRICE + +Of the Staff of General Sherman on the March to the Sea, +and on the March from Savannah Northward. + +HEADQUARTERS MILITARY DIVISION OF THE MISSISSIPPI +GOLDSBORO, N.C. MARCH 24, 1865 + +DEAR MOTHER: The South Carolina Campaign is a thing of the past. I pause +as I write these words--they seem so incredible to me. We have marched +the four hundred and twenty-five miles in fifty days, and the General +himself has said that it is the longest and most important march ever +made by an organized army in a civilized country. I know that you will +not be misled by the words "civilized country." Not until the history of +this campaign is written will the public realize the wide rivers and all +but impassable swamps we have crossed with our baggage trains and +artillery. The roads (by courtesy so called) were a sea of molasses and +every mile of them has had to be corduroyed. For fear of worrying you I +did not write you from Savannah how they laughed at us for starting at +that season of the year. They said we would not go ten miles, and I most +solemnly believe that no one but "Uncle Billy" and an army organized and +equipped by him could have gone ten miles. Nothing seems to stop him. +You have probably remarked in the tone of my letters ever since we left +Kingston for the sea, a growing admiration for "my General." + +It seems very strange that this wonderful tactician can be the same man +I met that day going to the Arsenal in the streetcar, and again at Camp +Jackson. I am sure that history will give him a high place among the +commanders of the world. Certainly none was ever more tireless than he. +He never fights a battle when it can be avoided, and his march into +Columbia while threatening Charleston and Augusta was certainly a master +stroke of strategy. + +I think his simplicity his most remarkable trait. You should see him as +he rides through the army, an erect figure, with his clothes all angular +and awry, and an expanse of white sock showing above his low shoes. You +can hear his name running from file to file; and some times the new +regiments can't resist cheering. He generally says to the Colonel:-- + +"Stop that noise, sir. Don't like it." + +On our march to the sea, if the orders were ever given to turn northward, +"the boys" would get very much depressed. One moonlight night I was +walking my horse close to the General's over the pine needles, when we +overheard this conversation between two soldiers:-- + +"Say, John," said one, "I guess Uncle Billy don't know our corps is goin' +north." + +"I wonder if he does,'" said John. "If I could only get a sight of them +white socks, I'd know it was all right." + +The General rode past without a word, but I heard him telling the story +to Mower the next day. + +I can find little if any change in his manner since I knew him first. He +is brusque, but kindly, and he has the same comradeship with officers and +men--and even the negroes who flock to our army. But few dare to take +advantage of it, and they never do so twice. I have been very near to +him, and have tried not to worry him or ask many foolish questions. +Sometimes on the march he will beckon me to close up to him, and we have +a conversation something on this order:-- + +"There's Kenesaw, Brice." + +"Yes, sir." + +Pointing with his arm. + +"Went beyond lines there with small party. Rebel battery on summit. Had +to git. Fired on. Next day I thought Rebels would leave in the night. +Got up before daylight, fixed telescope on stand, and waited. Watched +top of Kenesaw. No Rebel. Saw one blue man creep up, very cautious, +looked around, waved his hat. Rebels gone. Thought so." + +This gives you but a faint idea of the vividness of his talk. When we +make a halt for any time, the general officers and their staffs flock to +headquarters to listen to his stories. When anything goes wrong, his +perception of it is like a lightning flash,--and he acts as quickly. + +By the way, I have just found the letter he wrote me, offering this staff +position. Please keep it carefully, as it is something I shall value all +my life. + + GAYLESVILLE, ALABAMA, October 25, 1864. + + MAJOR STEPHEN A. BRICE: + + Dear Sir,--The world goes on, and wicked men sound asleep. Davis + has sworn to destroy my army, and Beauregard has come to do the + work,--so if you expect to share in our calamity, come down. I + offer you this last chance for staff duty, and hope you have had + enough in the field. I do not wish to hurry you, but you can't get + aboard a ship at sea. So if you want to make the trip, come to + Chattanooga and take your chances of meeting me. + + Yours truly, + + W. T. SHERMAN, Major General. + +One night--at Cheraw, I think it was--he sent for me to talk to him. I +found him lying on a bed of Spanish moss they had made for him. He asked +me a great many questions about St. Louis, and praised Mr. Brinsmade, +especially his management of the Sanitary Commission. + +"Brice," he said, after a while, "you remember when Grant sent me to beat +off Joe Johnston's army from Vicksburg. You were wounded then, by the +way, in that dash Lauman made. Grant thought he ought to warn me against +Johnston. + +"'He's wily, Sherman,' said he. 'He's a dangerous man.' + +"'Grant,' said I, 'you give me men enough and time enough to look over +the ground, and I'm not afraid of the devil.'" + +Nothing could sum up the man better than that. And now what a trick of +fate it is that he has Johnston before him again, in what we hope will +prove the last gasp of the war! He likes Johnston, by the way, and has +the greatest respect for him. + +I wish you could have peeped into our camp once in a while. In the rare +bursts of sunshine on this march our premises have been decorated with +gay red blankets, and sombre gray ones brought from the quartermasters, +and white Hudson's Bay blankets (not so white now), all being between +forked sticks. It is wonderful how the pitching of a few tents, and the +busy crackle of a few fires, and the sound of voices--sometimes merry, +sometimes sad, depending on the weather, will change the look of a lonely +pine knoll. You ask me how we fare. I should be heartily ashamed if a +word of complaint ever fell from my lips. But the men! Whenever I wake +up at night with my feet in a puddle between the blankets, I think of the +men. The corduroy roads which our horses stumble over through the mud, +they make as well as march on. Our flies are carried in wagons, and our +utensils and provisions. They must often bear on their backs the little +dog-tents, under which, put up by their own labor, they crawl to sleep, +wrapped in a blanket they have carried all day, perhaps waist deep in +water. The food they eat has been in their haversacks for many a weary +mile, and is cooked in the little skillet and pot which have also been a +part of their burden. Then they have their musket and accoutrements, and +the "forty rounds" at their backs. Patiently, cheerily tramping along, +going they know not where, nor care much either, so it be not in retreat. +Ready to make roads, throw up works, tear up railroads, or hew out and +build wooden bridges; or, best of all, to go for the Johnnies under hot +sun or heavy rain, through swamp and mire and quicksand. They marched +ten miles to storm Fort McAllister. And how the cheers broke from them +when the pop pop pop of the skirmish line began after we came in sight of +Savannah! No man who has seen but not shared their life may talk of +personal hardship. + +We arrived at this pretty little town yesterday, so effecting a junction +with Schofield, who got in with the 3d Corps the day before. I am +writing at General Schofield's headquarters. There was a bit of a battle +on Tuesday at Bentonville, and we have come hither in smoke, as usual. +But this time we thank Heaven that it is not the smoke of burning homes, +--only some resin the "Johnnies" set on fire before they left. + +I must close. General Sherman has just sent for me. + + + + ON BOARD DESPATCH BOAT "MARTIN." + AT SEA, March 25, 1865. + +DEAR MOTHER: A most curious thing has happened. But I may as well begin +at the beginning. When I stopped writing last evening at the summons of +the General, I was about to tell you something of the battle of +Bentonville on Tuesday last. Mower charged through as bad a piece of +wood and swamp as I ever saw, and got within one hundred yards of +Johnston himself, who was at the bridge across Mill Creek. Of course we +did not know this at the time, and learned it from prisoners. + +As I have written you, I have been under fire very little since coming to +the staff. When the battle opened, however, I saw that if I stayed with +the General (who was then behind the reserves) I would see little or +nothing; I went ahead "to get information" beyond the line of battle into +the woods. I did not find these favorable to landscape views, and just +as I was turning my horse back again I caught sight of a commotion some +distance to my right. The Rebel skirmish line had fallen back just that +instant, two of our skirmishers were grappling with a third man, who was +fighting desperately. It struck me as singular that the fellow was not +in gray, but had on some sort of dark clothes. + +I could not reach them in the swamp on horseback, and was in the act of +dismounting when the man fell, and then they set out to carry him to the +rear, still farther to my right, beyond the swamp. I shouted, and one of +the skirmishers came up. I asked him what the matter was. + +"We've got a spy, sir," he said excitedly. + +"A spy! Here?" + +"Yes, Major. He was hid in the thicket yonder, lying flat on his face. +He reckoned that our boys would run right over him and that he'd get into +our lines that way. Tim Foley stumbled on him, and he put up as good a +fight with his fists as any man I ever saw." + +Just then a regiment swept past us. That night I told the General, who +sent over to the headquarters of the 17th Corps to inquire. The word +came back that the man's name was Addison, and he claimed to be a Union +sympathizer who owned a plantation near by. He declared that he had been +conscripted by the Rebels, wounded, sent back home, and was now about to +be pressed in again. He had taken this method of escaping to our lines. +It was a common story enough, but General Mower added in his message that +he thought the story fishy. This was because the man's appearance was +very striking, and he seemed the type of Confederate fighter who would do +and dare anything. He had a wound, which had been a bad one, evidently +got from a piece of shell. But they had been able to find nothing on +him. Sherman sent back word to keep the man until he could see him in +person. It was about nine o'clock last night when I reached the house +the General has taken. A prisoner's guard was resting outside, and the +hall was full of officers. They said that the General was awaiting me, +and pointed to the closed door of a room that had been the dining room. +I opened it. + +Two candles were burning in pewter sticks on the bare mahogany table. +There was the General sitting beside them, with his legs crossed, holding +some crumpled tissue paper very near his eves, and reading. He did not +look up when I entered. I was aware of a man standing, tall and +straight, just out of range of the candles' rays. He wore the easy dress +of a Southern planter, with the broad felt hat. The head was flung back +so that there was just a patch of light on the chin, and the lids of the +eyes in the shadow were half closed. + +My sensations are worth noting. For the moment I felt precisely as I had +when I was hit by that bullet in Lauman's charge. I was aware of +something very like pain, yet I could not place the cause of it. But +this is what since has made me feel queer: you doubtless remember staying +at Hollingdean, when I was a boy, and hearing the story of Lord +Northwell's daredevil Royalist ancestor,--the one with the lace collar +over the dull-gold velvet, and the pointed chin, and the lazy scorn in +the eyes. Those eyes are painted with drooping lids. The first time I +saw Clarence Colfax I thought of that picture--and now I thought of the +picture first. + +The General's voice startled me. + +"Major Brice, do you know this gentleman?" he asked. + +"Yes, General." + +"Who is he?" + +"His name is Colfax, sir--Colonel Colfax, I think" + +"Thought so," said the General. + +I have thought much of that scene since, as I am steaming northward over +green seas and under cloudless skies, and it has seemed very unreal. I +should almost say supernatural when I reflect how I have run across this +man again and again, and always opposing him. I can recall just how he +looked at the slave auction, which seem, so long ago: very handsome, +very boyish, and yet with the air of one to be deferred to. It was +sufficiently remarkable that I should have found him in Vicksburg. +But now--to be brought face to face with him in this old dining room in +Goldsboro! And he a prisoner. He had not moved. I did not know how he +would act, but I went up to him and held out my hand, and said.--"How do +you do, Colonel Colfax?" + +I am sure that my voice was not very steady, for I cannot help liking him +And then his face lighted up and he gave me his hand. And he smiled at +me and again at the General, as much as to say that it was all over. He +has a wonderful smile. + +"We seem to run into each other, Major Brice," said he. + +The pluck of the man was superb. I could see that the General, too, was +moved, from the way he looked at him. And he speaks a little more +abruptly at such times. + +"Guess that settles it, Colonel," he said. + +"I reckon it does, General," said Clarence, still smiling. The General +turned from him to the table with a kind of jerk and clapped his hand on +the tissue paper. + +"These speak for themselves, sir," he said. "It is very plain that they +would have reached the prominent citizens for whom they were intended if +you had succeeded in your enterprise. You were captured out of uniform +You know enough of war to appreciate the risk you ran. Any statement to +make?" + +"No, sir." + +"Call Captain Vaughan, Brice, and ask him to conduct the prisoner back." + +"May I speak to him, General?" I asked. The General nodded. + +I asked him if I could write home for him or do anything else. That +seemed to touch him. Some day I shall tell you what he said. + +Then Vaughan took him out, and I heard the guard shoulder arms and tramp +away in the night. The General and I were left alone with the mahogany +table between us, and a family portrait of somebody looking down on us +from the shadow on the wall. A moist spring air came in at the open +windows, and the candles flickered. After a silence, I ventured to say: + +"I hope he won't be shot, General." + +"Don't know, Brice," he answered. "Can't tell now. Hate to shoot him, +but war is war. Magnificent class he belongs to--pity we should have to +fight those fellows." + +He paused, and drummed on the table. "Brice," said he, "I'm going to +send you to General Grant at City Point with despatches. I'm sorry Dunn +went back yesterday, but it can't be helped. Can you start in half an +hour?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"You'll have to ride to Kinston. The railroad won't be through until +to-morrow: I'll telegraph there, and to General Easton at Morehead City. +He'll have a boat for you. Tell Grant I expect to run up there in a day +or two myself, when things are arranged here. You may wait until I +come." + +"Yes, sir." + +I turned to go, but Clarence Colfax was on my mind "General?" + +"Eh! what?" + +"General, could you hold Colonel Colfax until I see you again?" + +It was a bold thing to say, and I quaked. And he looked at me in his +keen way, through and through "You saved his life once before, didn't +you?" + +"You allowed me to have him sent home from Vicksburg, sir." + +He answered with one of his jokes--apropos of something he said on the +Court House steps at Vicksburg. Perhaps I shall tell it to you sometime. + +"Well, well," he said, "I'll see, I'll see. Thank God this war is pretty +near over. I'll let you know, Brice, before I shoot him." + +I rode the thirty odd miles to Kinston in--little more than three hours. +A locomotive was waiting for me, and I jumped into a cab with a friendly +engineer. Soon we were roaring seaward through the vast pine forests. +It was a lonely journey, and you were much in my mind. My greatest +apprehension was that we might be derailed and the despatches captured; +for as fast as our army had advanced, the track of it had closed again, +like the wake of a ship at sea. Guerillas were roving about, tearing up +ties and destroying bridges. + +There was one five-minute interval of excitement when, far down the +tunnel through the forest, we saw a light gleaming. The engineer said +there was no house there, that it must be a fire. But we did not slacken +our speed, and gradually the leaping flames grew larger and redder until +we were upon them. + +Not one gaunt figure stood between them and us. Not one shot broke the +stillness of the night. As dawn broke I beheld the flat, gray waters of +the Sound stretching away to the eastward, and there was the boat at the +desolate wharf beside the warehouse, her steam rising white in the chill +morning air. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE SAME, CONTINUED + + HEADQUARTERS ARMIES OF THE UNITED STATES, + CITY POINT, VIRGINIA, March 28, 1865. + +DEAR MOTHER: I arrived here safely the day before yesterday, and I hope +that you will soon receive some of the letters I forwarded on that day. +It is an extraordinary place, this City Point; a military city sprung up +like a mushroom in a winter. And my breath was quite taken away when I +first caught sight of it on the high table-land. The great bay in front +of it, which the Appomattox helps to make, is a maze of rigging and +smoke-pipes, like the harbor of a prosperous seaport. There are gunboats +and supply boats, schooners and square-riggers and steamers, all huddled +together, and our captain pointed out to me the 'Malvern' flying Admiral +Porter's flag. Barges were tied up at the long wharves, and these were +piled high with wares and flanked by squat warehouses. Although it was +Sunday, a locomotive was puffing and panting along the foot of the ragged +bank. + +High above, on the flat promontory between the two rivers, is the city of +tents and wooden huts, the great trees in their fresh faint green +towering above the low roofs. At the point of the bluff a large flag +drooped against its staff, and I did not have to be told that this was +General Grant's headquarters. + +There was a fine steamboat lying at the wharf, and I had hardly stepped +ashore before they told me she was President Lincoln's. I read the name +on her--the 'River Queen'. Yes, the President is here, too, with his +wife and family. + +There are many fellows here with whom I was brought up in Boston. I am +living with Jack Hancock, whom you will remember well. He is a captain +now, and has a beard. + +But I must go on with my story. I went straight to General Grant's +headquarters,--just a plain, rough slat house such as a contractor might +build for a temporary residence. Only the high flagstaff and the Stars +and Stripes distinguish it from many others of the same kind. A group of +officers stood chatting outside of it, and they told me that the General +had walked over to get his mail. He is just as unassuming and democratic +as "my general." General Rankin took me into the office, a rude room, +and we sat down at the long table there. Presently the door opened, and +a man came in with a slouch hat on and his coat unbuttoned. He was +smoking a cigar. We rose to our feet, and I saluted. + +It was the general-in-chief. He stared at me, but said nothing. + +"General, this is Major Brice of General Sherman's staff. He has brought +despatches from Goldsboro," said Rankin. + +He nodded, took off his hat and laid it on the table, and reached out for +the despatches. While reading them he did not move, except to light +another cigar. I am getting hardened to unrealities,--perhaps I should +say marvels, now. Our country abounds in them. It did not seem so +strange that this silent General with the baggy trousers was the man who +had risen by leaps and bounds in four years to be general-in-chief of our +armies. His face looks older and more sunken than it did on that day in +the street near the Arsenal, in St. Louis, when he was just a military +carpet-bagger out of a job. He is not changed otherwise. But how +different the impressions made by the man in authority and the same man +out of authority! + +He made a sufficient impression upon me then, as I told you at the time. +That was because I overheard his well-merited rebuke to Hopper. But I +little dreamed that I was looking on the man who was to come out of +the West and save this country from disunion. And how quietly and simply +he has done it, without parade or pomp or vainglory. Of all those who, +with every means at their disposal, have tried to conquer Lee, he is the +only one who has in any manner succeeded. He has been able to hold him +fettered while Sherman has swept the Confederacy. And these are the two +men who were unknown when the war began. + +When the General had finished reading the despatches, he folded them +quickly and put them in his pocket. + +"Sit down and tell me about this last campaign of yours, Major," he said. + +I talked with him for about half an hour. I should rather say talked to +him. He is a marked contrast to Sherman in this respect. I believe that +he only opened his lips to ask two questions. You may well believe that +they were worth the asking, and they revealed an intimate knowledge of +our march from Savannah. I was interrupted many times by the arrival of +different generals, aides, etc. He sat there smoking, imperturbable. +Sometimes he said "yes" or "no," but oftener he merely nodded his head. +Once he astounded by a brief question an excitable young lieutenant, who +floundered. The General seemed to know more than he about the matter he +had in hand. + +When I left him, he asked me where I was quartered, and said he hoped I +would be comfortable. + +Jack Hancock was waiting for me, and we walked around the city, which +even has barber shops. Everywhere were signs of preparation, for the +roads are getting dry, and the General preparing for a final campaign +against Lee. Poor Lee! What a marvellous fight he has made with his +material. I think that he will be reckoned among the greatest generals +of our race. + +Of course, I was very anxious to get a glimpse of the President, and so +we went down to the wharf, where we heard that he had gone off for a +horseback ride. They say that he rides nearly every day, over the +corduroy roads and through the swamps, and wherever the boys see that +tall hat they cheer. They know it as well as the lookout tower on the +flats of Bermuda Hundred. He lingers at the campfires and swaps stories +with the officers, and entertains the sick and wounded in the hospitals. +Isn't it like him? + +He hasn't changed, either. I believe that the great men don't change. +Away with your Napoleons and your Marlboroughs and your Stuarts. These +are the days of simple men who command by force of character, as well as +knowledge. Thank God for the American! I believe that he will change +the world, and strip it of its vainglory and hypocrisy. + +In the evening, as we were sitting around Hancock's fire, an officer came +in. + +"Is Major Brice here?" he asked. I jumped up. + +"The President sends his compliments, Major, and wants to know if you +would care to pay him a little visit." + +If I would care to pay him a little visit! That officer had to hurry to +keep up with the as I walked to the wharf. He led me aboard the River +Queen, and stopped at the door of the after-cabin. + +Mr. Lincoln was sitting under the lamp, slouched down in his chair, in +the position I remembered so well. It was as if I had left him but +yesterday. He was whittling, and he had made some little toy for his son +Tad, who ran out as I entered. + +When he saw me, the President rose to his great height, a sombre, +towering figure in black. He wears a scraggly beard now. But the sad +smile, the kindly eyes in their dark caverns, the voice--all were just +the same. I stopped when I looked upon the face. It was sad and lined +when I had known it, but now all the agony endured by the millions, North +and South, seemed written on it. + +"Don't you remember me, Major?" he asked. + +The wonder was that he had remembered me! I took his big, bony hand, +which reminded me of Judge Whipple's. Yes, it was just as if I had been +with him always, and he were still the gaunt country lawyer. + +"Yes, sir," I said, "indeed I do." + +He looked at me with that queer expression of mirth he sometimes has. + +"Are these Boston ways, Steve?" he asked. "They're tenacious. I didn't +think that any man could travel so close to Sherman and keep 'em." + +"They're unfortunate ways, sir," I said, "if they lead you to misjudge +me." + +He laid his hand on my shoulder, just as he had done at Freeport. + +"I know you, Steve," he said. "I shuck an ear of corn before I buy it. +I've kept tab on you a little the last five years, and when I heard +Sherman had sent a Major Brice up here, I sent for you." + +What I said was boyish. "I tried very hard to get a glimpse of you +to-day, Mr. Lincoln. I wanted to see you again." + +He was plainly pleased. + +"I'm glad to hear it, Steve," he said. "Then you haven't joined the +ranks of the grumblers? You haven't been one of those who would have +liked to try running this country for a day or two, just to show me how +to do it?" + +"No, sir," I said, laughing. + +"Good!" he cried, slapping his knee. "I didn't think you were that kind, +Steve. Now sit down and tell me about this General of mine who wears +seven-leagued boots. What was it--four hundred and twenty miles in fifty +days? How many navigable rivers did he step across?" He began to count +on those long fingers of his. "The Edisto, the Broad, the Catawba, the +Pedee, and--?" + +"The Cape Fear," I said. + +"Is--is the General a nice man?" asked Mr. Lincoln, his eyes twinkling. + +"Yes, sir, he is that," I answered heartily. "And not a man in the army +wants anything when he is around. You should see that Army of the +Mississippi, sir. They arrived in Goldsboro' in splendid condition." + +He got up and gathered his coat-tails under his arms, and began to walk +up and down the cabin. + +"What do the boys call the General?" he asked. + +I told him "Uncle Billy." And, thinking the story of the white socks +might amuse him, I told him that. It did amuse him. + +"Well, now," he said, "any man that has a nickname like that is all +right. That's the best recommendation you can give the General--just say +'Uncle Billy.'" He put one lip over the other. "You've given 'Uncle +Billy' a good recommendation, Steve," he said. "Did you ever hear the +story of Mr. Wallace's Irish gardener?" + +"No, sir." + +"Well, when Wallace was hiring his gardener he asked him whom he had been +living with. + +"'Misther Dalton, sorr.' + +"'Have you a recommendation, Terence?' + +"'A ricommindation is it, sorr? Sure I have nothing agin Misther Dalton, +though he moightn't be knowing just the respict the likes of a first- +class garthener is entitled to.'" + +He did not laugh. He seldom does, it seems, at his own stories. But I +could not help laughing over the "ricommindation" I had given the +General. He knew that I was embarrassed, and said kindly:-- + +"Now tell me something about 'Uncle Billy's Bummers.' I hear that they +have a most effectual way of tearing up railroads." + +I told him of Poe's contrivance of the hook and chain, and how the +heaviest rails were easily overturned with it, and how the ties were +piled and fired and the rails twisted out of shape. The President +listened to every word with intense interest. + +"By Jing!" he exclaimed, "we have got a general. Caesar burnt his +bridges behind him, but Sherman burns his rails. Now tell me some more." + +He helped me along by asking questions. Then I began to tell him how the +negroes had flocked into our camps, and how simply and plainly the +General had talked to them, advising them against violence of any kind, +and explaining to them that "Freedom" meant only the liberty to earn +their own living in their own way, and not freedom from work. + +"We have got a general, sure enough," he cried. "He talks to them +plainly, does he, so that they understand? I say to you, Brice," he went +on earnestly, "the importance of plain talk can't be overestimated. Any +thought, however abstruse, can be put in speech that a boy or a negro can +grasp. Any book, however deep, can be written in terms that everybody +can comprehend, if a man only tries hard enough. When I was a boy I used +to hear the neighbors talking, and it bothered me so because I could not +understand them that I used to sit up half the night thinking things out +for myself. I remember that I did not know what the word demonstrate +meant. So I stopped my studies then and there and got a volume of +Euclid. Before I got through I could demonstrate everything in it, +and I have never been bothered with demonstrate since." + +I thought of those wonderfully limpid speeches of his: of the Freeport +debates, and of the contrast between his style and Douglas's. And I +understood the reason for it at last. I understood the supreme mind that +had conceived the Freeport Question. And as I stood before him then, at +the close of this fearful war, the words of the Gospel were in my mind. +'So the last shall be first, and the first, last; for many be called, but +few chosen.' + +How I wished that all those who have maligned and tortured him could talk +with him as I had talked with him. To know his great heart would disarm +them of all antagonism. They would feel, as I feel, that his life is so +much nobler than theirs, and his burdens so much heavier, that they would +go away ashamed of their criticism. + +He said to me once Brice, I hope we are in sight of the end, now. I +hope that we may get through without any more fighting. I don't want to +see any more of our countrymen killed. And then," he said, as if talking +to himself, "and then we must show them mercy--mercy." + +I thought it a good time to mention Colfax's case. He has been on my +mind ever since. Mr. Lincoln listened attentively. Once he sighed, and +he was winding his long fingers around each other while I talked. + +"I saw the man captured, Mr. Lincoln," I concluded, "And if a +technicality will help him out, he was actually within his own skirmish +line at the time. The Rebel skirmishers had not fallen back on each side +of him." + +"Brice," he said, with that sorrowful smile, "a technicality might save +Colfax, but it won't save me. Is this man a friend of yours?" he asked. + +That was a poser. + +"I think he is, Mr. Lincoln. I should like to call him so. I admire +him." And I went on to tell of what he had done at Vicksburg, leaving +out, however, my instrumentality in having him sent north. The President +used almost Sherman's words. + +"By Jing!" he exclaimed. (That seems to be a favorite expression of +his.) "Those fellows were born to fight. If it wasn't for them, the +South would have quit long ago." Then he looked at me in his funny way, +and said, "See here, Steve, if this Colfax isn't exactly a friend of +yours, there must be some reason why you are pleading for him in this +way." + +"Well, sir," I said, at length, "I should like to get him off on account +of his cousin, Miss Virginia Carvel." And I told him something about +Miss Carvel, and how she had helped you with the Union sergeant that day +in the hot hospital. And how she had nursed Judge Whipple." + +"She's a fine woman," he said. "Those women have helped those men to +prolong this war about three years. + +"And yet we must save them for the nation's sake. They are to be the +mothers of our patriots in days to come. Is she a friend of yours, too, +Steve?" + +What was I to say? + +"Not especially, sir," I answered finally. I have had to offend her +rather often. But I know that she likes my mother." + +"Why!" he cried, jumping up, "she's a daughter of Colonel Carvel. I +always had an admiration for that man. An ideal Southern gentleman of +the old school,--courteous, as honorable and open as the day, and as +brave as a lion. You've heard the story of how he threw a man named +Babcock out of his store, who tried to bribe him?" + +"I heard you tell it in that tavern, sir. And I have heard it since." +It did me good to hear the Colonel praised. + +"I always liked that story," he said. "By the way, what's become of the +Colonel?" + +"He got away--South, sir," I answered. "He couldn't stand it. +He hasn't been heard of since the summer of '63. They think he was +killed in Texas. But they are not positive. They probably never will +be," I added. He was silent awhile. + +"Too bad!" he said. "Too bad. What stuff those men are made of! And so +you want me to pardon this Colfax?" + +"It would be presumptuous in me to go that far, sir," I replied. "But I +hoped you might speak of it to the General when he comes. And I would be +glad of the opportunity to testify." + +He took a few strides up and down the room. + +"Well, well," he said, "that's my vice--pardoning, saying yes. It's +always one more drink with me. It--" he smiled--"it makes me sleep +better. I've pardoned enough Rebels to populate New Orleans. Why," he +continued, with his whimsical look, "just before I left Washington, in +comes one of your Missouri senators with a list of Rebels who are shut up +in McDowell's and Alton. I said:-- + +"'Senator, you're not going to ask me to turn loose all those at once?' + +"He said just what you said when you were speaking of Missouri a while +ago, that he was afraid of guerilla warfare, and that the war was nearly +over. I signed 'em. And then what does he do but pull out another batch +longer than the first! And those were worse than the first. + +"'What!, you don't want me to turn these loose, too?' + +"'Yes, I do, Mr. President. I think it will pay to be merciful.' + +"'Then durned if I don't,' I said, and I signed 'em." + + + + STEAMER "RIVER QUEEN." + ON THE POTOMAC, April 9, 1865. + +DEAR MOTHER: I am glad that the telegrams I have been able to send +reached you safely. I have not had time to write, and this will be but a +short letter. + +You will be surprised to see this heading. I am on the President's boat, +in the President's party, bound with him for Washington. And this is how +it happened: The very afternoon of the day I wrote you, General Sherman +himself arrived at City Point on the steamer 'Russia'. I heard the +salutes, and was on the wharf to meet him. That same afternoon he and +General Grant and Admiral Porter went aboard the River Queen to see the +President. How I should have liked to be present at that interview! +After it was over they all came out of the cabin together General Grant +silent, and smoking, as usual; General Sherman talking vivaciously; and +Lincoln and the Admiral smiling and listening. That was historic! I +shall never expect to see such a sight again in all my days. You can +imagine my surprise when the President called me from where I was +standing at some distance with the other officers. He put his hand on my +shoulder then and there, and turned to General Sherman. + +"Major Brice is a friend of mine, General," he said. "I knew him in +Illinois." + +"He never told me that," said the General. + +"I guess he's got a great many important things shut up inside of him," +said Mr. Lincoln, banteringly. "But he gave you a good recommendation, +Sherman. He said that you wore white socks, and that the boys liked you +and called you 'Uncle Billy.' And I told him that was the best +recommendation he could give anybody." + +I was frightened. But the General only looked at me with those eyes that +go through everything, and then he laughed. + +"Brice," he said, "You'll have my reputation ruined," + +"Sherman," said Mr. Lincoln, "you don't want the Major right away, do +you? Let him stay around here for a while with me. I think he'll find +it interesting." He looked at the general-in-chief, who was smiling just +a little bit. "I've got a sneaking notion that Grant's going to do +something." + +Then they all laughed. + +"Certainly, Mr. Lincoln," said my General, "you may have Brice. Be +careful he doesn't talk you to death--he's said too much already." + +That is how I came to stay. + +I have no time now to tell you all that I have seen and heard. I have +ridden with the President, and have gone with him on errands of mercy and +errands of cheer. I have been almost within sight of what we hope is the +last struggle of this frightful war. I have listened to the guns of Five +Forks, where Sheridan and Warren bore their own colors in the front of +the charge, I was with Mr. Lincoln while the battle of Petersburg was +raging, and there were tears in his eyes. + +Then came the retreat of Lee and the instant pursuit of Grant, and-- +Richmond. The quiet General did not so much as turn aside to enter the +smoking city he had besieged for so long. But I went there, with the +President. And if I had one incident in my life to live over again, I +should choose this. As we were going up the river, a disabled steamer +lay across the passage in the obstruction of piles the Confederates had +built. Mr. Lincoln would not wait. There were but a few of us in his +party, and we stepped into Admiral Porter's twelve-oared barge and were +rowed to Richmond, the smoke of the fires still darkening the sky. We +landed within a block of Libby Prison. + +With the little guard of ten sailors he marched the mile and a half to +General Weitzel's headquarters,--the presidential mansion of the +Confederacy. You can imagine our anxiety. I shall remember him always +as I saw him that day, a tall, black figure of sorrow, with the high silk +hat we have learned to love. Unafraid, his heart rent with pity, he +walked unharmed amid such tumult as I have rarely seen. The windows +filled, the streets ahead of us became choked, as the word that the +President was coming ran on like quick-fire. The mob shouted and pushed. +Drunken men reeled against him. The negroes wept aloud and cried +hosannas. They pressed upon him that they might touch the hem of his +coat, and one threw himself on his knees and kissed the President's feet. + +Still he walked on unharmed, past the ashes and the ruins. Not as a +conqueror was he come, to march in triumph. Not to destroy, but to heal. +Though there were many times when we had to fight for a path through the +crowds, he did not seem to feel the danger. + +Was it because he knew that his hour was not yet come? + +To-day, on the boat, as we were steaming between the green shores of the +Potomac, I overheard him reading to Mr. Sumner:-- + + "Duncan is in his grave; + After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; + Treason has done his worst; nor steel, nor poison, + Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing, + Can touch him further." + + + WILLARD'S HOTEL, WASHINGTON, April 10, 1865. + +I have looked up the passage, and have written it in above. +It haunts me. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MAN OF SORROW + +The train was late--very late. It was Virginia who first caught sight of +the new dome of the Capitol through the slanting rain, but she merely +pressed her lips together and said nothing. In the dingy brick station +of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad more than one person paused to look +after them, and a kind-hearted lady who had been in the car kissed the +girl good-by. + +"You think that you can find your uncle's house, my dear?" she asked, +glancing at Virginia with concern. Through all of that long journey she +had worn a look apart. "Do you think you can find your uncle's house?" + +Virginia started. And then she smiled as she looked at the honest, +alert, and squarely built gentleman beside her. + +"Captain Brent can, Mrs. Ware," she said. "He can find anything." + +Whereupon the kind lady gave the Captain her hand. "You look as if you +could, Captain," said she. "Remember, if General Carvel is out of town, +you promised to bring her to me." + +"Yes, ma'am," said Captain Lige, "and so I shall." + +"Kerridge, kerridge! Right dis-a-way! No sah, dat ain't de kerridge you +wants. Dat's it, lady, you'se lookin at it. Kerridge, kerridge, +kerridge!" + +Virginia tried bravely to smile, but she was very near to tears as she +stood on the uneven pavement and looked at the scrawny horses standing +patiently in the steady downpour. All sorts of people were coming and +going, army officers and navy officers and citizens of states and +territories, driving up and driving away. + +And this was Washington! + +She was thinking then of the multitude who came here with aching hearts, +--with heavier hearts than was hers that day. How many of the throng +hurrying by would not flee, if they could, back to the peaceful homes +they had left? But perhaps those homes were gone now. Destroyed, like +her own, by the war. Women with children at their breasts, and mothers +bowed with sorrow, had sought this city in their agony. Young men and +old had come hither, striving to keep back the thoughts of dear ones left +behind, whom they might never see again. And by the thousands and tens +of thousands they had passed from here to the places of blood beyond. + +"Kerridge, sah! Kerridge!" + +"Do you know where General Daniel Carvel lives?" + +"Yes, sah, reckon I does. I Street, sah. Jump right in, sah." + +Virginia sank back on the stuffy cushions of the rattle-trap, and then +sat upright again and stared out of the window at the dismal scene. +They were splashing through a sea of mud. Ever since they had left St. +Louis, Captain Lige had done his best to cheer her, and he did not intend +to desist now. + +"This beats all," he cried. "So this is Washington, Why, it don't +compare to St. Louis, except we haven't got the White House and the +Capitol. Jinny, it would take a scow to get across the street, and we +don't have ramshackly stores and nigger cabins bang up against fine +Houses like that. This is ragged. That's what it is, ragged. We don't +have any dirty pickaninnies dodging among the horses in our residence +streets. I declare, Jinny, if those aren't pigs!" + +Virginia laughed. She could not help it. + +"Poor Lige!" she said. "I hope Uncle Daniel has some breakfast for you. +You've had a good deal to put up with on this trip." + +"Lordy, Jinny," said the Captain, "I'd put up with a good deal more than +this for the sake of going anywhere with you." + +"Even to such a doleful place as this?" she sighed, + +"This is all right, if the sun'll only come out and dry things up and let +us see the green on those trees," he said, "Lordy, how I do love to see +the spring green in the sunlight!" + +She put out her hand over his. + +"Lige," she said, "you know you're just trying to keep up my spirits. +You've been doing that ever since we left home." + +"No such thing," he replied with vehemence. "There's nothing for you to +be cast down about." + +"Oh, but there is!" she cried. "Suppose I can't make your Black +Republican President pardon Clarence!" + +"Pooh!" said the Captain, squeezing her hand and trying to appear +unconcerned. "Your Uncle Daniel knows Mr. Lincoln. He'll have that +arranged." + +Just then the rattletrap pulled up at the sidewalk, the wheels of the +near side in four inches of mud, and the Captain leaped out and spread +the umbrella. They were in front of a rather imposing house of brick, +flanked on one side by a house just like it, and on the other by a series +of dreary vacant lots where the rain had collected in pools. They +climbed the steps and rang the bell. In due time the door was opened by +a smiling yellow butler in black. + +"Does General Carvel live here?" + +"Yas, miss, But he ain't to home now. Done gone to New York." + +"Oh," faltered Virginia. "Didn't he get my telegram day before +yesterday? I sent it to the War Department." + +"He's done gone since Saturday, miss." And then, evidently impressed by +the young lady's looks, he added hospitably, "Kin I do anything fo' you, +miss?" + +"I'm his niece, Miss Virginia Carvel, and this is Captain Brent." + +The yellow butler's face lighted up. + +"Come right in, Miss Jinny, Done heerd de General speak of you often-- +yas'm. De General'll be to home dis a'ternoon, suah. 'Twill do him good +ter see you, Miss Jinny. He's been mighty lonesome. Walk right in, +Cap'n, and make yo'selves at home. Lizbeth--Lizbeth!" + +A yellow maid came running down the stairs. "Heah's Miss Jinny." + +"Lan' of goodness!" cried Lizbeth. "I knows Miss Jinny. Done seed her +at Calve't House. How is you, Miss Jinny?" + +"Very well, Lizbeth," said Virginia, listlessly sitting down on the hall +sofa. "Can you give us some breakfast?" + +"Yas'm," said Lizbeth, "jes' reckon we kin." She ushered them into a +walnut dining room, big and high and sombre, with plush-bottomed chairs +placed about--walnut also; for that was the fashion in those days. But +the Captain had no sooner seated himself than he shot up again and +started out. + +"Where are you going, Lige?" + +"To pay off the carriage driver," he said. + +"Let him wait," said Virginia. "I'm going to the White House in a little +while." + +"What--what for?" he gasped. + +"To see your Black Republican President," she replied, with alarming +calmness. + +"Now, Jinny," he cried, in excited appeal, "don't go doin' any such fool +trick as that. Your Uncle Dan'l will be here this afternoon. He knows +the President. And then the thing'll be fixed all right, and no +mistake." + +Her reply was in the same tone--almost a monotone--which she had used for +three days. It made the Captain very uneasy, for he knew when she spoke +in that way that her will was in it. + +"And to lose that time," she answered, "may be to have him shot." + +"But you can't get to the President without credentials," he objected. + +"What," she flashed, "hasn't any one a right to see the President? You +mean to say that he will not see a woman in trouble? Then all these +pretty stories I hear of him are false. They are made up by the +Yankees." + +Poor Captain Lige! He had some notion of the multitude of calls upon Mr. +Lincoln, especially at that time. But he could not, he dared not, remind +her of the principal reason for this,--Lee's surrender and the +approaching end of the war. And then the Captain had never seen Mr. +Lincoln. In the distant valley of the Mississippi he had only heard of +the President very conflicting things. He had heard him criticised and +reviled and praised, just as is every man who goes to the White House, be +he saint or sinner. And, during an administration, no man at a distance +may come at a President's true character and worth. The Captain had seen +Lincoln caricatured vilely. And again he had read and heard the pleasant +anecdotes of which Virginia had spoken, until he did not know what to +believe. + +As for Virginia, he knew her partisanship to, and undying love for, the +South; he knew the class prejudice which was bound to assert itself, and +he had seen enough in the girl's demeanor to fear that she was going to +demand rather than implore. She did not come of a race that was wont to +bend the knee. + +"Well, well," he said despairingly, "you must eat some breakfast first, +Jinny." + +She waited with an ominous calmness until it was brought in, and then she +took a part of a roll and some coffee. + +"This won't do," exclaimed the Captain. "Why, why, that won't get you +halfway to Mr. Lincoln." + +She shook her head, half smiling. + +"You must eat enough, Lige," she said. + +He was finished in an incredibly short time, and amid the protestations +of Lizbeth and the yellow butler they got into the carriage again, and +splashed and rattled toward the White House. Once Virginia glanced out, +and catching sight of the bedraggled flags on the houses in honor of +Lee's surrender, a look of pain crossed her face. The Captain could not +repress a note of warning. + +"Jinny," said he, "I have an idea that you'll find the President a good +deal of a man. Now if you're allowed to see him, don't get him mad, +Jinny, whatever you do." + +Virginia stared straight ahead. + +"If he is something of a man, Lige, he will not lose his temper with a +woman." + +Captain Lige subsided. And just then they came in sight of the house of +the Presidents, with its beautiful portico and its broad wings. And they +turned in under the dripping trees of the grounds. A carriage with a +black coachman and footman was ahead of them, and they saw two stately +gentlemen descend from it and pass the guard at the door. Then their +turn came. The Captain helped her out in his best manner, and gave some +money to the driver. + +"I reckon he needn't wait for us this time, Jinny," said be. She shook +her head and went in, he following, and they were directed to the +anteroom of the President's office on the second floor. There were many +people in the corridors, and one or two young officers in blue who stared +at her. She passed them with her head high. + +But her spirits sank when they came to the anteroom. It was full of all +sorts of people. Politicians, both prosperous and seedy, full faced and +keen faced, seeking office; women, officers, and a one-armed soldier +sitting in the corner. He was among the men who offered Virginia +their seats, and the only one whom she thanked. But she walked directly +to the doorkeeper at the end of the room. Captain Lige was beside her. + +"Can we see the President?" he asked. + +"Have you got an appointment?" said the old man. + +"No." + +"Then you'll have to wait your turn, sir," he said, shaking his head and +looking at Virginia. And he added. "It's slow work waiting your turn, +there's so many governors and generals and senators, although the +session's over. It's a busy time, miss." + +Virginia went very close to him. + +"Oh, can't you do something?" she said. And added, with an inspiration, +"I must see him. It's a matter of life and death." + +She saw instantly, with a woman's instinct, that these words had had +their effect. The old man glanced at her again, as if demurring. + +"You're sure, miss, it's life and death?" he said. + +"Oh, why should I say so if it were not?" she cried. + +"The orders are very strict," he said. "But the President told me to +give precedence to cases when a life is in question. Just you wait a +minute, miss, until Governor Doddridge comes out, and I'll see what I can +do for you. Give me your name, please, miss." + +She remained standing where she was. In a little while the heavy door +opened, and a portly, rubicund man came out with a smile on his face. +He broke into a laugh, when halfway across the room, as if the memory of +what he had heard were too much for his gravity. The doorkeeper slipped +into the room, and there was a silent, anxious interval. Then he came +out again. + +"The President will see you, miss." + +Captain Lige started forward with her, but she restrained him. + +"Wait for me here, Lige," she said. + +She swept in alone, and the door closed softly after her. The room was a +big one, and there were maps on the table, with pins sticking in them. +She saw that much, and then--! + +Could this fantastically tall, stooping figure before her be that of the +President of the United States? She stopped, as from the shock he gave +her. The lean, yellow face with the mask-like lines all up and down, +the unkempt, tousled hair, the beard--why, he was a hundred times more +ridiculous than his caricatures. He might have stood for many of the +poor white trash farmers she had seen in Kentucky--save for the long +black coat. + +"Is--is this Mr. Lincoln?" she asked, her breath taken away. + +He bowed and smiled down at her. Somehow that smile changed his face a +little. + +"I guess I'll have to own up," he answered. + +"My name is Virginia Carvel," she said. "I have come all the way from +St. Louis to see you." + +"Miss Carvel," said the President, looking at her intently, "I have +rarely been so flattered in my life. I--I hope I have not disappointed +you." + +Virginia was justly angry. + +"Oh, you haven't," she cried, her eyes flashing, "because I am what you +would call a Rebel." + +The mirth in the dark corners of his eyes disturbed her more and more. +And then she saw that the President was laughing. + +"And have you a better name for it, Miss Carvel?" he asked. "Because +I am searching for a better name--just now." + +She was silent--sternly silent. And she tapped her foot on the carpet. +What manner of man was this? "Won't you sit down?" said the President, +kindly. "You must be tired after your journey." And he put forth a +chair. + +"No, thank you," said Virginia; "I think that I can say what I have come +to say better standing." + +"Well," said Mr. Lincoln, "that's not strange. I'm that way, too. The +words seem to come out better. That reminds me of a story they tell +about General Buck Tanner. Ever heard of Buck, Miss Carvel? No? Well, +Buck was a character. He got his title in the Mormon war. One day the +boys asked him over to the square to make a speech. The General was a +little uneasy. + +"'I'm all right when I get standing up, Liza,' he said to his wife. +Then the words come right along. Only trouble is they come too cussed +fast. How'm I going to stop 'em when I want to?' + +"'Well, I du declare, Buck,' said she, 'I gave you credit for some +sense. All you've got to do is to set down. That'll end it, I reckon.' + +"So the General went over to the square and talked for about an hour and +a half, and then a Chicago man shouted to him to dry up. The General +looked pained. + +"'Boys,' said he, 'it's jest every bit as bad for me as it is for you. +You'll have to hand up a chair, boys, because I'm never going to get shet +of this goldarned speech any anther way.'" + +Mr. Lincoln had told this so comically that Virginia was forced to laugh, +and she immediately hated herself. A man who could joke at such a time +certainly could not feel the cares and responsibilities of his office. +He should have been a comedian. And yet this was the President who had +conducted the war, whose generals had conquered the Confederacy. And she +was come to ask him a favor. Virginia swallowed her pride. + +"Mr. Lincoln," she began, "I have come to talk to you about my cousin, +Colonel Clarence Colfax." + +"I shall be happy to talk to you about your cousin, Colonel Colfax, Miss +Carvel. Is he your third or fourth cousin?" + +"He is my first cousin," she retorted. + +"Is he in the city?" asked Mr. Lincoln, innocently. "Why didn't he come +with you?" + +"Oh, haven't you heard?" she cried. "He is Clarence Colfax, of St. +Louis, now a Colonel in the army of the Confederate States." + +"Which army?" asked Mr. Lincoln. Virginia tossed her head in +exasperation. + +"In General Joseph Johnston's army," she replied, trying to be patient. +"But now," she gulped, "now he has been arrested as a spy by General +Sherman's army." + +"That's too bad," answered Mr. Lincoln. + +"And--and they are going to shoot him." + +"That's worse," said Mr. Lincoln, gravely. "But I expect he deserves +it." + +"Oh, no, he doesn't," she cried. "You don't know how brave he is! He +floated down the Mississippi on a log, out of Vicksburg, and brought back +thousands and thousands of percussion caps. He rowed across the river +when the Yankee fleet was going down, and set fire to De Soto so that +they could see to shoot." + +"Well," said Mr. Lincoln, "that's a good starter." Then he looked +thoughtful. + +"Miss Carvel," said he, "that argument reminds me of a story about a man +I used to know in the old days in Illinois. His name was McNeil, and he +was a lawyer. + +"One day he was defending a prisoner for assault and battery before Judge +Drake. + +"'Judge, says McNeil, 'you oughtn't to lock this man up. It was a fair +fight, and he's the best man in the state in a fair fight. And, what's +more, he's never been licked in a fair fight in his life.' + +"'And if your honor does lock me up,' the prisoner put in, 'I'll give +your honor a thunderin' big lickin' when I get out.' + +"The Judge took off his coat. + +"'Gentlemen,' said he, 'it's a powerful queer argument, but the Court +will admit it on its merits. The prisoner will please to step out on the +grass.'" + +This time Virginia contrived merely to smile. She was striving against +something, she knew not what. Her breath was coming deeply, and she was +dangerously near to tears. Why? She could not tell. She had come into +this man's presence despising herself for having to ask him a favor. The +sight of his face she had ridiculed. Now she could not look into it +without an odd sensation. What was in it? Sorrow? Yes, that was +nearest it. + +What had the man done? Told her a few funny stories--given quizzical +answers to some of her questions. Quizzical, yes; but she could not be +sure then there was not wisdom in them, and that humiliated her. She had +never conceived of such a man. And, be it added gratuitously, Virginia +deemed herself something of an adept in dealing with men. + +"And now," said Mr. Lincoln, "to continue for the defence, I believe that +Colonel Colfax first distinguished himself at the time of Camp Jackson, +when of all the prisoners he refused to accept a parole." + +Startled, she looked up at him swiftly, and then down again. "Yes," she +answered, "yes. But oh, Mr. Lincoln, please don't hold that against +him." + +If she could only have seen his face then. But her lashes were dropped. + +"My dear young lady," replied the President, "I honor him for it. I was +merely elaborating the argument which you have begun. On the other hand, +it is a pity that he should have taken off that uniform which he adorned +and attempted to enter General Sherman's lines as a civilian,--as a spy." + +He had spoken these last words very gently, but she was too excited to +heed his gentleness. She drew herself up, a gleam in her eyes like the +crest of a blue wave in a storm. + +"A spy!" she cried; "it takes more courage to be a spy than anything else +in war. Then he will be shot. You are not content in, the North with +what you have gained. You are not content with depriving us of our +rights, and our fortunes, with forcing us back to an allegiance we +despise. You are not content with humiliating our generals and putting +innocent men in prisons. But now I suppose you will shoot us all. And +all this mercy that I have heard about means nothing--nothing--" + +Why did she falter and stop? + +"Miss Carvel," said the President, "I am afraid from what I have heard +just now, that it means nothing." Oh, the sadness of that voice,--the +ineffable sadness,--the sadness and the woe of a great nation! And the +sorrow in those eyes, the sorrow of a heavy cross borne meekly,--how +heavy none will ever know. The pain of a crown of thorns worn for a +world that did not understand. No wonder Virginia faltered and was +silent. She looked at Abraham Lincoln standing there, bent and +sorrowful, and it was as if a light had fallen upon him. But strangest +of all in that strange moment was that she felt his strength. It was the +same strength she had felt in Stephen Brice. This was the thought that +came to her. + +Slowly she walked to the window and looked out across the green grounds +where the wind was shaking the wet trees, past the unfinished monument to +the Father of her country, and across the broad Potomac to Alexandria in +the hazy distance. The rain beat upon the panes, and then she knew that +she was crying softly to herself. She had met a force that she could not +conquer, she had looked upon a sorrow that she could not fathom, albeit +she had known sorrow. + +Presently she felt him near. She turned and looked through her tears at +his face that was all compassion. And now she was unashamed. He had +placed a chair behind her. + +"Sit down, Virginia," he said. Even the name fell from him naturally. + +She obeyed him then like a child. He remained standing. + +"Tell me about your cousin," he said; "are you going to marry him?" + +She hung an instant on her answer. Would that save Clarence? But in +that moment she could not have spoken anything but the truth to save her +soul. + +"No, Mr. Lincoln," she said; "I was--but I did not love him. I--I think +that was one reason why he was so reckless." + +Mr. Lincoln smiled. + +"The officer who happened to see Colonel Colfax captured is now in +Washington. When your name was given to me, I sent for him. Perhaps he +is in the anteroom now. I should like to tell you, first of all, that +this officer defended your cousin and asked me to pardon him." + +"He defended him! He asked you to pardon him! Who is he?" she +exclaimed. + +Again Mr. Lincoln smiled. He strode to the bell-cord, and spoke a few +words to the usher who answered his ring. + +The usher went out. Then the door opened, and a young officer, spare, +erect, came quickly into the room, and bowed respectfully to the +President. But Mr. Lincoln's eyes were not on him. They were on the +girl. He saw her head lifted, timidly. He saw her lips part and the +color come flooding into her face. But she did not rise. + +The President sighed But the light in her eyes was reflected in his own. +It has been truly said that Abraham Lincoln knew the human heart. + +The officer still stood facing the President, the girl staring at his +profile. The door closed behind him. "Major Brice," said Mr. Lincoln, +when you asked me to pardon Colonel Colfax, I believe that you told me +he was inside his own skirmish lines when he was captured." + +"Yes, sir, he was." + +Suddenly Stephen turned, as if impelled by the President's gaze, and so +his eyes met Virginia's. He forgot time and place,--for the while even +this man whom he revered above all men. He saw her hand tighten on the +arm of her chair. He took a step toward her, and stopped. Mr. Lincoln +was speaking again. + +"He put in a plea, a lawyer's plea, wholly unworthy of him, Miss +Virginia. He asked me to let your cousin off on a technicality. What do +you think of that?" + +"Oh!" said Virginia. Just the exclamation escaped her--nothing more. +The crimson that had betrayed her deepened on her cheeks. Slowly the +eyes she had yielded to Stephen came back again and rested on the +President. And now her wonder was that an ugly man could be so +beautiful. + +"I wish it understood, Mr. Lawyer," the President continued, "that I am +not letting off Colonel Colfax on a technicality. I am sparing his +life," he said slowly, "because the time for which we have been waiting +and longing for four years is now at hand--the time to be merciful. Let +us all thank God for it." + +Virginia had risen now. She crossed the room, her head lifted, her heart +lifted, to where this man of sorrows stood smiling down at her. + +"Mr. Lincoln," she faltered, "I did not know you when I came here. I +should have known you, for I had heard him--I had heard Major Brice +praise you. Oh," she cried, "how I wish that every man and woman and +child in the South might come here and see you as I have seen you to-day. +I think--I think that some of their bitterness might be taken away." + +Abraham Lincoln laid his hands upon the girl. And Stephen, watching, +knew that he was looking upon a benediction. + +"Virginia," said Mr. Lincoln, "I have not suffered by the South, I have +suffered with the South Your sorrow has been my sorrow, and your pain +has been my pain. What you have lost, I have lost. And what you have +gained," he added sublimely, "I have gained." + +He led her gently to the window. The clouds were flying before the wind, +and a patch of blue sky shone above the Potomac. With his long arm he +pointed across the river to the southeast, and as if by a miracle a shaft +of sunlight fell on the white houses of Alexandria. + +"In the first days of the war," he said, "a flag flew there in sight of +the place where George Washington lived and died. I used to watch that +flag, and thank God that Washington had not lived to see it. And +sometimes, sometimes I wondered if God had allowed it to be put in +irony just there." His voice seemed to catch. "That was wrong," he +continued. "I should have known that this was our punishment--that the +sight of it was my punishment. Before we could become the great nation +He has destined us to be, our sins must be wiped out in blood. You loved +that flag, Virginia. You love it still. + +"I say in all sincerity, may you always love it. May the day come when +this Nation, North and South, may look back upon it with reverence. +Thousands upon thousands of brave Americans have died under it for what +they believed was right. But may the day come again when you will love +that flag you see there now--Washington's flag--better still." + +He stopped, and the tears were wet upon Virginia's lashes. She could not +have spoken then. + +Mr. Lincoln went over to his desk and sat down before it. Then he began +to write, slouched forward, one knee resting on the floor, his lips +moving at the same time. When he got up again he seemed taller than +ever. + +"There!" he said, "I guess that will fix it. I'll have that sent to +Sherman. I have already spoken to him about the matter." + +They did not thank him. It was beyond them both. He turned to Stephen +with that quizzical look on his face he had so often seen him wear. + +"Steve," he said, "I'll tell you a story. The other night Harlan was +here making a speech to a crowd out of the window, and my boy Tad was +sitting behind him. + +"'What shall we do with the Rebels?' said Harlan to the crowd. + +"'Hang 'em!' cried the people. "'No,' says Tad, 'hang on to 'em.' + +"And the boy was right. That is what we intend to do,--hang on to 'em. +And, Steve," said Mr. Lincoln, putting his hand again on Virginia's +shoulder, "if you have the sense I think you have, you'll hang on, too." + +For an instant he stood smiling at their blushes,--he to whom the power +was given to set apart his cares and his troubles and partake of the +happiness of others. For of such was his happiness. + +Then the President drew out his watch. "Bless me!" he said, "I am ten +minutes behind my appointment at the Department. Miss Virginia, you may +care to thank the Major for the little service he has done you. You can +do so undisturbed here. Make yourselves at home." + +As he opened the door he paused and looked back at them. The smile +passed from his face, and an ineffable expression of longing--longing and +tenderness--came upon it. + +Then he was gone. + +For a space, while his spell was upon them, they did not stir. Then +Stephen sought her eyes that had been so long denied him. They were not +denied him now. It was Virginia who first found her voice, and she +called him by his name. + +"Oh, Stephen," she said, "how sad he looked!" + +He was close to her, at her side. And he answered her in the earnest +tone which she knew so well. + +"Virginia, if I could have had what I most wished for in the world, I +should have asked that you should know Abraham Lincoln." + +Then she dropped her eyes, and her breath came quickly. + +"I--I might have known," she answered, "I might have known what he was. +I had heard you talk of him. I had seen him in you, and I did not know. +Do you remember that day when we were in the summer-house together at +Glencoe, long ago? When you had come back from seeing him?" + +"As yesterday," he said. + +"You were changed then," she said bravely. "I saw it. Now I understand. +It was because you had seen Mr. Lincoln." + +"When I saw him," said Stephen, reverently, "I knew how little and narrow +I was." + +Then, overcome by the incense of her presence, he drew her to him until +her heart beat against his own. She did not resist, but lifted her face +to him, and he kissed her. + +"You love me, Virginia!" he cried. + +"Yes, Stephen," she answered, low, more wonderful in her surrender than +ever before. "Yes--dear." Then she hid her face against his blue coat. +"I--I cannot help it. Oh, Stephen, how I have struggled against it! +How I have tried to hate you, and couldn't. No, I couldn't. I tried to +insult you, I did insult you. And when I saw how splendidly you bore it, +I used to cry." He kissed her brown hair. + +"I loved you through it all," he said. + +"Virginia!" + +"Yes, dearest." + +"Virginia, did you dream of me?" + +She raised her head quickly, and awe was in her eyes. "How did you +know?" + +"Because I dreamed of you," he answered. And those dreams used to linger +with me half the day as I went about my work. I used to think of them as +I sat in the saddle on the march." + +"I, too, treasured them," she said. "And I hated myself for doing it." + +"Virginia, will you marry me?" + +"Yes." + +"To-morrow?" + +"Yes, dear, to-morrow." Faintly, "I have no one but you--now." + +Once more he drew her to him, and she gloried in his strength. + +"God help me to cherish you, dear," he said, "and guard you well." + +She drew away from him, gently, and turned toward the window. + +"See, Stephen," she cried, "the sun has come out at last." + +For a while they were silent, looking out; the drops glistened on blade +and leaf, and the joyous new green of the earth entered into their +hearts. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +ANNAPOLIS + +IT was Virginia's wish, and was therefore sacred. As for Stephen, he +little cared whither they went. And so they found themselves on that +bright afternoon in mid-April under the great trees that arch the unpaved +streets of old Annapolis. + +They stopped by direction at a gate, and behind it was a green cluster of +lilac bushes, which lined the walk to the big plum-colored house which +Lionel Carvel had built. Virginia remembered that down this walk on a +certain day in June, a hundred years agone, Richard Carvel had led +Dorothy Manners. + +They climbed the steps, tottering now with age and disuse, and Virginia +playfully raised the big brass knocker, brown now, that Scipio had been +wont to polish until it shone. Stephen took from his pocket the clumsy +key that General Carvel had given him, and turned it in the rusty lock. +The door swung open, and Virginia stood in the hall of her ancestors. + +It was musty and damp this day as the day when Richard had come back from +England and found it vacant and his grandfather dead. But there, at the +parting of the stairs, was the triple-arched window which he had +described. Through it the yellow afternoon light was flooding now, even +as then, checkered by the branches in their first fringe of green. But +the tall clock which Lionel Carvel used to wind was at Calvert House, +with many another treasure. + +They went up the stairs, and reverently they walked over the bare floors, +their footfalls echoing through the silent house. A score of scenes in +her great-grandfather's life came to Virginia. Here was the room--the +cornet one at the back of the main building, which looked out over the +deserted garden--that had been Richard's mother's. She recalled how he +had stolen into it on that summer's day after his return, and had flung +open the shutters. They were open now, for their locks were off. The +prie-dieu was gone, and the dresser. But the high bed was there, +stripped of its poppy counterpane and white curtains; and the steps by +which she had entered it. + +And next they went into the great square room that had been Lionel +Carvel's, and there, too, was the roomy bed on which the old gentleman +had lain with the gout, while Richard read to him from the Spectator. +One side of it looked out on the trees in Freshwater Lane; and the other +across the roof of the low house opposite to where the sun danced on the +blue and white waters of the Chesapeake. + +"Honey," said Virginia, as they stood in the deep recess of the window, +"wouldn't it be nice if we could live here always, away from the world? +Just we two! But you would never be content to do that," she said, +smiling reproachfully. "You are the kind of man who must be in the midst +of things. In a little while you will have far more besides me to think +about." + +He was quick to catch the note of sadness in her voice. And he drew her +to him. + +"We all have our duty to perform in the world, dear," he answered. "It +cannot be all pleasure." + +"You--you Puritan!" she cried. "To think that I should have married a +Puritan! What would my great-great-great-great-grandfather say, who was +such a stanch Royalist? Why, I think I can see him frowning at me now, +from the door, in his blue velvet goat and silverlaced waistcoat." + +"He was well punished," retorted Stephen, "his own grandson was a Whig, +and seems to have married a woman of spirit." + +"She had spirit," said Virginia. "I am sure that she did not allow my +great-grandfather to kiss her--unless she wanted to." + +And she looked up at him, half smiling, half pouting; altogether +bewitching. + +"From what I hear of him, he was something of a man," said Stephen. +"Perhaps he did it anyway." + +"I am glad that Marlborough Street isn't a crowded thoroughfare," said +Virginia. + +When they had seen the dining room, with its carved mantel and silver +door-knobs, and the ballroom in the wing, they came out, and Stephen +locked the door again. They walked around the house, and stood looking +down the terraces,--once stately, but crumbled now,--where Dorothy had +danced on the green on Richard's birthday. Beyond and below was the +spring-house, and there was the place where the brook dived under the +ruined wall,--where Dorothy had wound into her hair the lilies of the +valley before she sailed for London. + +The remains of a wall that had once held a balustrade marked the outlines +of the formal garden. The trim hedges, for seventy years neglected, had +grown incontinent. The garden itself was full of wild green things +coming up through the brown of last season's growth. But in the grass +the blue violets nestled, and Virginia picked some of these and put them +in Stephen's coat. + +"You must keep them always," she said, "because we got them here." + +They spied a seat beside a hoary trunk. There on many a spring day +Lionel Carvel had sat reading his Gazette. And there they rested now. +The sun hung low over the old-world gables in the street beyond the wall, +and in the level rays was an apple tree dazzling white, like a bride. +The sweet fragrance which the day draws from the earth lingered in the +air. + +It was Virginia who broke the silence, + +"Stephen, do you remember that fearful afternoon of the panic, when you +came over from Anne Brinsmade's to reassure me?" + +"Yes, dear," he said. "But what made you think of it now?" + +She did not answer him directly. + +"I believed what you said, Stephen. But you were so strong, so calm, so +sure of yourself. I think that made me angry when I thought how +ridiculous I must have been." + +He pressed her hand. + +"You were not ridiculous, Jinny." She laughed. + +"I was not as ridiculous as Mr. Cluyme with his bronze clock. But do you +know what I had under my arm--what I was saving of all the things I +owned?" + +"No," he answered; "but I have often wondered." She blushed. + +"This house--this place made me think of it. It was Dorothy Manners's +gown, and her necklace. I could not leave them. They were all the +remembrance I had of that night at Mr. Brinsmade's gate, when we came so +near to each other." + +"Virginia," he said, "some force that we cannot understand has brought us +together, some force that we could not hinder. It is foolish for me to +say so, but on that day of the slave auction, when I first saw you, I had +a premonition about you that I have never admitted until now, even to +myself." + +She started. + +"Why, Stephen," she cried, "I felt the same way!" And then," he +continued quickly, "it was strange that I should have gone to Judge +Whipple, who was an intimate of your father's--such a singular intimate. +And then came your party, and Glencoe, and that curious incident at the +Fair." + +"When I was talking to the Prince, and looked up and saw you among all +those people." + +He laughed. + +"That was the most uncomfortable of all, for me." + +"Stephen," she said, stirring the leaves at her feet, "you might have +taken me in your arms the night Judge Whipple died--if you had wanted to. +But you were strong enough to resist. I love you all the more for that." + +Again she said:-- + +It was through your mother, dearest, that we were most strongly drawn +together. I worshipped her from the day I saw her in the hospital. +I believe that was the beginning of my charity toward the North." + +"My mother would have chosen you above all women, Virginia," he answered. + +In the morning came to them the news of Abraham Lincoln's death. And the +same thought was in both their hearts, who had known him as it was given +to few to know him. How he had lived in sorrow; how he had died a martyr +on the very day of Christ's death upon the cross. And they believed that +Abraham Lincoln gave his life for his country even as Christ gave his for +the world. + +And so must we believe that God has reserved for this Nation a destiny +high upon the earth. + +Many years afterward Stephen Brice read again to his wife those sublime +closing words of the second inaugural:-- + + "With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the + right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish + the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him + who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his children + --to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace + among ourselves and with all nations." + + + + +AFTERWORD + +The author has chosen St. Louis for the principal scene of this story +for many reasons. Grant and Sherman were living there before the Civil +War, and Abraham Lincoln was an unknown lawyer in the neighboring state +of Illinois. It has been one of the aims of this book to show the +remarkable contrasts in the lives of these great men who came out of the +West. This old city of St. Louis, which was founded by Laclede in 1765, +likewise became the principal meeting-place of two great streams of +emigration which had been separated, more or less, since Cromwell's day. +To be sure, they were not all Cavaliers who settled in the tidewater +Colonies. There were Puritan settlements in both Maryland and Virginia. +But the life in the Southern states took on the more liberal tinge which +had characterized that of the Royalists, even to the extent of affecting +the Scotch Calvinists, while the asceticism of the Roundheads was the +keynote of the Puritan character in New England. When this great country +of ours began to develop, the streams moved westward; one over what +became the plain states of Ohio and Indiana and Illinois, and the other +across the Blue Ridge Mountains into Kentucky and Tennessee. They mixed +along the line of the Ohio River. They met at St. Louis, and, farther +west, in Kansas. + +Nor can the German element in St. Louis be ignored. The part played by +this people in the Civil War is a matter of history. The scope of this +book has not permitted the author to introduce the peasantry and trading +classes which formed the mass in this movement. But Richter, the type of +the university-bred revolutionist which emigrated after '48, is drawn +more or less from life. And the duel described actually took place in +Berlin. + +St. Louis is the author's birthplace, and his home, the home of those +friends whom he has known from childhood and who have always treated him +with unfaltering kindness. He begs that they will believe him when he +says that only such characters as he loves are reminiscent of those he +has known there. The city has a large population,--large enough to +include all the types that are to be found in the middle West. + +One word more. This book is written of a time when feeling ran high. +It has been necessary to put strong speech into the mouths of the +characters. The breach that threatened our country's existence is healed +now. There is no side but Abraham Lincoln's side. And this side, with +all reverence and patriotism, the author has tried to take. + +Abraham Lincoln loved the South as well as the North. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Freedom meant only the liberty to earn their own living +Simple men who command by force of character + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRISIS, V8, BY CHURCHILL *** + +********* This file should be named wc58w10.txt or wc58w10.zip ******** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, wc58w11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, wc58w10a.txt + +This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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