Part 48 (2/2)
Flushed and indignant, his old friend called.
”You know me, Mr. President,” he cried pa.s.sionately. ”How can I ever hold my head up again under censure from you--one of my oldest and best friends?”
The muscles of the drawn face twitched with nervous agony. He could not with his high sense of honor as President tell this man that he loved him and found no fault with him. To make his acceptance of the situation easier, his only course was to roust his friend's anger.
He turned and said curtly:
”You have, I believe, received your orders. I can suggest nothing but obedience.”
Too angry to ask an explanation, he strode from the room without a word.
The President closed his desk, climbed the steep hill of the Capitol Square, walked home in brooding silence, and locked himself in his room without eating his dinner.
Alarmed at his absence, Mrs. Davis at last gently rapped on his door.
With tender tact she drew from his reluctant lips the story.
Turning his dimmed eyes on hers, he burst out in tones of quivering anguish:
”Oh, my Winnie dear, how could any man with a soul write a letter like that, mark it private and force me to plunge a knife into the heart of my best friend and leave it there without a word--”
”You should have told your friend the whole truth!”
”No--he could have made trouble in the army. His commander knew that I could bear it best.”
”You must try to mingle more with those men, dear,” his wife pleaded.
”Use your brains and personality to win them. You can do it.”
”At the cost of precious hours I can give to better service for my country. No. I've given my life to the South. I'll eat my heart out in silence if I must--”
He paused and looked at her tenderly.
”Only your friendly eyes shall see, my dear. After all, what does it matter what men think of me now? If we succeed, we shall hear no more of malcontents. If we do not succeed, I shall be held accountable by both friend and foe. It's written so in the book of life. I must accept it.
I'll just do my best and G.o.d will give me strength to bear what comes.”
And so while the South was gayly celebrating the end of the war and every crow was busy pecking at the sensitive heart of their leader, the ominous shadow of five hundred thousand Northern soldiers, armed with the best weapons and drilled by the masters of military science, was slowly but surely drawing near.
CHAPTER XIX
SOCOLA'S PROBLEM
Socola found his conquest of Jennie beset with unforeseen difficulties.
His vanity received a shock. His success with girls at home had slightly turned his head.
His mother was largely responsible for his conceit. She honestly believed that he was the handsomest man in America. For more than six years--in fact, since his eighteenth birthday--his mother's favorite pet name was ”Handsome.” He had heard this repeated so often he had finally accepted it philosophically as one of the fixed phenomena of nature.
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