The heritage of centuries of heroic blood from the martyrs2 of old Scotland began to flash its inspiration from the past. Her heart beat with the unconscious life of men and women who had stood in the stocks, and walked in chains to the stake with songs on their lips.
The threat against the life of Doctor Cameron had not only stirred her martyr3 blood: it had roused the latent heroism4 of a beautiful girlhood. To her he had ever been the lover and the undimmed hero of her girlish dreams. She spent whole hours locked in her room alone. Margaret knew that she was on her knees. She always came forth5 with shining face and with soft words on her lips.
She struggled for two months in vain efforts to obtain a single interview with him, or to obtain a copy of the charges. Doctor Cameron had been placed in the old Capitol Prison, already crowded to the utmost. He was in delicate health, and so ill when she had left home he could not accompany her to Richmond.
Not a written or spoken word was allowed to pass 102 those prison doors. She could communicate with him only through the officers in charge. Every message from him was the same. “I love you always. Do not worry. Go home the moment you can leave Ben. I fear the worst at Piedmont.”
When he had sent this message, he would sit down and write the truth in a little diary he kept:
“Another day of anguish7. How long, O Lord? Just one touch of her hand, one last pressure of her lips, and I am content. I have no desire to live—I am tired.”
The officers repeated the verbal messages, but they made no impression on Mrs. Cameron. By a mental telepathy which had always linked her life with his her soul had passed those prison bars. If he had written the pitiful record with a dagger’s point on her heart, she could not have felt it more keenly.
At times overwhelmed, she lay prostrate8 and sobbed9 in half-articulate cries. And then from the silence and mystery of the spirit world in which she felt the beat of the heart of Eternal Love would come again the strange peace that passeth understanding. She would rise and go forth to her task with a smile.
In July she saw Mrs. Surratt taken from this old Capitol Prison to be hung with Payne, Herold, and Atzerodt for complicity in the assassination10. The military commission before whom this farce11 of justice was enacted12, suspicious of the testimony13 of the perjured14 wretches15 who had sworn her life away, had filed a memorandum16 with their verdict asking the President for mercy.
President Johnson never saw this memorandum. It 103 was secretly removed in the War Department, and only replaced after he had signed the death warrant.
In vain Annie Surratt, the weeping daughter, flung herself on the steps of the White House on the fatal day, begging and praying to see the President. She could not believe they would allow her mother to be murdered in the face of a recommendation of mercy. The fatal hour struck at last, and the girl left the White House with set eyes and blanched17 face, muttering incoherent curses.
The Chief Magistrate18 sat within, unconscious of the hideous19 tragedy that was being enacted in his name. When he discovered the infamy20 by which he had been made the executioner of an innocent woman, he made his first demand that Edwin M. Stanton resign from his cabinet as Secretary of War. And for the first time in the history of America, a cabinet officer waived21 the question of honour and refused to resign.
With a shudder22 and blush of shame, strong men saw that day the executioner gather the ropes tightly three times around the dress of an innocent American mother and bind23 her ankles with cords. She fainted and sank backward upon the attendants, the poor limbs yielding at last to the mortal terror of death. But they propped24 her up and sprung the fatal trap.
A feeling of uncertainty25 and horror crept over the city and the Nation, as rumours26 of the strange doings of the “Bureau of Military Justice,” with its secret factory of testimony and powers of tampering27 with verdicts, began to find their way in whispered stories among the people.
Public opinion, however, had as yet no power of adjustment. 104 It was an hour of lapse28 to tribal29 insanity30. Things had gone wrong. The demand for a scapegoat31, blind, savage32, and unreasoning, had not spent itself. The Government could do anything as yet, and the people would applaud.
Mrs. Cameron had tried in vain to gain a hearing before the President. Each time she was directed to apply to Mr. Stanton. She refused to attempt to see him, and again turned to Elsie for help. She had learned that the same witnesses who had testified against Mrs. Surratt were being used to convict Doctor Cameron, and her heart was sick with fear.
“Ask your father,” she pleaded, “to write President Johnson a letter in my behalf. Whatever his politics, he can’t be your father and not be good at heart.”
Elsie paled for a moment. It was the one request she had dreaded34. She thought of her father and Stanton with dread33. How far he was supporting the Secretary of War she could only vaguely35 guess. He rarely spoke6 of politics to her, much as he loved her.
“I’ll try, Mrs. Cameron,” she faltered36. “My father is in town to-day and takes dinner with us before he leaves for Pennsylvania to-night. I’ll go at once.”
With fear, and yet boldly, she went straight home to present her request. She knew he was a man who never cherished small resentments37, however cruel and implacable might be his public policies. And yet she dreaded to put it to the test.
“Father, I’ve a very important request to make of you,” she said gravely. 105
“Very well, my child, you need not be so solemn. What is it?”
“I’ve some friends in great distress38—Mrs. Cameron, of South Carolina, and her daughter Margaret.”
“Friends of yours?” he asked with an incredulous smile. “Where on earth did you find them?”
“In the hospital, of course. Mrs. Cameron is not allowed to see her husband, who has been here in jail for over two months. He cannot write to her, nor can he receive a letter from her. He is on trial for his life, is ill and helpless, and is not allowed to know the charges against him, while hired witnesses and detectives have broken open his house, searched his papers, and are ransacking39 heaven and earth to convict him of a crime of which he never dreamed. It’s a shame. You don’t approve of such things, I know?”
“What’s the use of my expressing an opinion when you have already settled it?” he answered good-humouredly.
“You don’t approve of such injustice40?”
“Certainly not, my child. Stanton’s frantic41 efforts to hang a lot of prominent Southern men for complicity in Booth’s crime is sheer insanity. Nobody who has any sense believes them guilty. As a politician I use popular clamour for my purposes, but I am not an idiot. When I go gunning, I never use a popgun or hunt small game.”
“Then you will write the President a letter asking that they be allowed to see Doctor Cameron?”
The old man frowned.
“Think, father, if you were in jail and friendless, and I were trying to see you——” 106
“Tut, tut, my dear, it’s not that I am unwilling—I was only thinking of the unconscious humour of my making a request of the man who at present accidentally occupies the White House. Of all the men on earth, this alien from the province of Tennessee! But I’ll do it for you. When did you ever know me to deny my help to a weak man or woman in distress?”
“Never, father. I was sure you would do it,” she answered warmly.
He wrote the letter at once and handed it to her.
She bent42 and kissed him.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to know that you have no part in such injustice.”
“You should not have believed me such a fool, but I’ll forgive you for the kiss. Run now with this letter to your rebel friends, you little traitor43! Wait a minute——”
He shuffled44 to his feet, placed his hand tenderly on her head, and stooped and kissed the shining hair.
“I wonder if you know how I love you? How I’ve dreamed of your future? I may not see you every day as I wish; I’m absorbed in great affairs. But more and more I think of you and Phil. I’ll have a big surprise for you both some day.”
“Your love is all I ask,” she answered simply.
Within an hour, Mrs. Cameron found herself before the new President. The letter had opened the door as by magic. She poured out her story with impetuous eloquence45 while Mr. Johnson listened in uneasy silence. His ruddy face, his hesitating manner, and restless eyes were in striking contrast to the conscious power of the 107 tall dark man who had listened so tenderly and sympathetically to her story of Ben but a few weeks before.
The President asked:
“Have you seen Mr. Stanton?”
“I have seen him once,” she cried with sudden passion. “It is enough. If that man were God on His throne, I would swear allegiance to the devil and fight him!”
The President lifted his eyebrows46 and his lips twitched47 with a smile:
“I shouldn’t say that your spirits are exactly drooping48! I’d like to be near and hear you make that remark to the distinguished49 Secretary of War.”
“Will you grant my prayer?” she pleaded.
“I will consider the matter,” he promised evasively.
Mrs. Cameron’s heart sank.
“Mr. President,” she cried bitterly, “I have felt sure that I had but to see you face to face and you could not deny me. Surely it is but justice that he have the right to see his loved ones, to consult with counsel, to know the charges against him, and defend his life when attacked in his poverty and ruin by all the power of a mighty50 government? He is feeble and broken in health and suffering from wounds received carrying the flag of the union to victory in Mexico. Whatever his errors of judgment51 in this war, it is a shame that a Nation for which he once bared his breast in battle should treat him as an outlaw52 without a trial.”
“You must remember, madam,” interrupted the President, “that these are extraordinary times, and that popular clamour, however unjust, will make itself felt 108 and must be heeded53 by those in power. I am sorry for you, and I trust it may be possible for me to grant your request.”
“But I wish it now,” she urged. “He sends me word I must go home. I can’t leave without seeing him. I will die first.”
She drew closer and continued in throbbing54 tones:
“Mr. President, you are a native Carolinian—you are of Scotch55 Covenanter blood. You are of my own people of the great past, whose tears and sufferings are our common glory and birthright. Come, you must hear me—I will take no denial. Give me now the order to see my husband!”
The President hesitated, struggling with deep emotion, called his secretary, and gave the order.
As she hurried away with Elsie, who insisted on accompanying her to the jail door, the girl said:
“Mrs. Cameron, I fear you are without money. You must let me help you until you can return it.”
“You are the dearest little heart I’ve met in all the world, I think sometimes,” said the older woman, looking at her tenderly. “I wonder how I can ever pay you for half you’ve done already.”
“The doing of it has been its own reward,” was the soft reply. “May I help you?”
“If I need it, yes. But I trust it will not be necessary. I still have a little store of gold Doctor Cameron was wise enough to hoard56 during the war. I brought half of it with me when I left home, and we buried the rest. I hope to find it on my return. And if we can save the twenty 109 bales of cotton we have hidden we shall be relieved of want.”
“I’m ashamed of my country when I think of such ignoble57 methods as have been used against Doctor Cameron. My father is indignant, too.”
The last sentence Elsie spoke with eager girlish pride.
“I am very grateful to your father for his letter. I am sorry he has left the city before I could meet and thank him personally. You must tell him for me.”
At the jail the order of the President was not honoured for three hours, and Mrs. Cameron paced the street in angry impatience58 at first and then in dull despair.
“Do you think that man Stanton would dare defy the President?” she asked anxiously.
“No,” said Elsie, “but he is delaying as long as possible as an act of petty tyranny.”
At last the messenger arrived from the War Department permitting an order of the Chief Magistrate of the nation, the Commander-in-Chief of its Army and Navy, to be executed.
The grated door swung on its heavy hinges, and the wife and mother lay sobbing59 in the arms of the lover of her youth.
For two hours they poured into each other’s hearts the story of their sorrows and struggles during the six fateful months that had passed. When she would return from every theme back to his danger, he would laugh her fears to scorn.
“Nonsense, my dear, I’m as innocent as a babe. Mr. 110 Davis was suffering from erysipelas, and I kept him in my house that night to relieve his pain. It will all blow over. I’m happy now that I have seen you. Ben will be up in a few days. You must return at once. You have no idea of the wild chaos60 at home. I left Jake in charge. I have implicit61 faith in him, but there’s no telling what may happen. I will not spend another moment in peace until you go.”
The proud old man spoke of his own danger with easy assurance. He was absolutely certain, since the day of Mrs. Surratt’s execution, that he would be railroaded to the gallows62 by the same methods. He had long looked on the end with indifference63, and had ceased to desire to live except to see his loved ones again.
In vain she warned him of danger.
“My peril is nothing, my love,” he answered quietly. “At home, the horrors of a servile reign64 of terror have become a reality. These prison walls do not interest me. My heart is with our stricken people. You must go home. Our neighbour, Mr. Lenoir, is slowly dying. His wife will always be a child. Little Marion is older and more self-reliant. I feel as if they are our own children. There are so many who need us. They have always looked to me for guidance and help. You can do more for them than any one else. My calling is to heal others. You have always helped me. Do now as I ask you.”
At last she consented to leave for Piedmont on the following day, and he smiled.
“Kiss Ben and Margaret for me and tell them that I’ll be with them soon,” he said cheerily. He meant in the 111 spirit, not the flesh. Not the faintest hope of life even flickered65 in his mind.
In the last farewell embrace a faint tremor66 of the soul, half sigh, half groan67, escaped his lips, and he drew her again to his breast, whispering:
“Always my sweetheart, good, beautiful, brave, and true!”
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收听单词发音
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1
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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martyrs
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| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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assassination
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| n.暗杀；暗杀事件 | |
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farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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enacted
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| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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perjured
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| adj.伪证的，犯伪证罪的v.发假誓，作伪证( perjure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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memorandum
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| n.备忘录，便笺 | |
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blanched
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| v.使变白( blanch的过去式 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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waived
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| v.宣布放弃( waive的过去式和过去分词 )；搁置；推迟；放弃（权利、要求等） | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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tampering
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| v.窜改( tamper的现在分词 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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tribal
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| adj.部族的，种族的 | |
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insanity
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| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
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scapegoat
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| n.替罪的羔羊，替人顶罪者；v.使…成为替罪羊 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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resentments
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| （因受虐待而）愤恨，不满，怨恨( resentment的名词复数 ) | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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ransacking
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| v.彻底搜查( ransack的现在分词 )；抢劫，掠夺 | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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outlaw
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| n.歹徒，亡命之徒；vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
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heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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hoard
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| n./v.窖藏，贮存，囤积 | |
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ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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implicit
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| a.暗示的，含蓄的，不明晰的，绝对的 | |
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gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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reign
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| n.统治时期，统治，支配，盛行；v.占优势 | |
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flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
参考例句： |
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