Betty Winter paused on the top step of the Capitol and gazed over the great silent crowd with a shiver.
"The silence—yes," Ned Vaughan answered slowly. "I wondered if you had felt it, too."
"It's more like a funeral than an Inauguration2."
The young reporter smiled:
"If you believe General Scott there may be several funerals in Washington before the day's work is done."
"And you don't believe him?" the girl asked seriously.
"Nonsense! All this feverish3 preparation for violence——"
Betty laughed:
"I'm afraid you're not a good judge of the needs of the incoming administration. As an avowed4 Secessionist—you're hardly in their confidence."
"Thank God, I'm not."
"What are those horses doing over there by the trees?"
"Masked battery of artillery5."
"Don't be silly!"
"It's true. Old Scott's going to save the Capital on Inauguration Day any how! The Avenue's lined with soldiers—sharpshooters posted in the windows along the whole route of the Inaugural6 procession, a company of troops in each end of the Capitol. He has built a wooden tunnel from the street into the north end of the building and that's lined with guards. A squad7 of fifty soldiers are under the platform where we're going to sit——"
"No!"
"Look through the cracks and see for yourself!" Vaughan cried with scorn.
The sparkling brown eyes were focused on the board platform.
"I do see them moving," she said slowly, as a look of deep seriousness swept the fair young face. "Perhaps General Scott's right after all. Father says we're walking on a volcano——"
"But not that kind of a volcano, Miss Betty," Vaughan interrupted. "Senator Winter's an Abolitionist. He hates the South with every breath he breathes."
Betty nodded:
"And prays God night and morning to give him greater strength with which to hate it harder—yes——"
"But you're not so blind?"
"There must be a little fire where there's so much smoke. A crazy fool might try to kill the new President."
Ned Vaughan's slender figure stiffened9:
"The South won't fight that way. If they begin war it will be the most solemn act of life. It will be for God and country, and what they believe to be right. The Southern people are not assassins. When they take Washington it will be with the bayonet."
"And yet your brother had a taste of Southern feeling here the night of the election when a mob broke in and smashed the office of the Republican."
"A gang of hoodlums," he protested. "Anything may happen on election night to an opposition10 newspaper. The Southern men who formed that mob will never give this administration trouble——"
"I'm so anxious to meet your brother," Betty interrupted. "Why doesn't he come?"
"He's in the Senate Chamber11 for the ceremonies. He'll join us before the procession gets here."
"He's as handsome as everybody says?" she asked na?vely.
"I'll admit he's a good-looking fellow if he is my brother."
"And vain?"
"As a peacock——"
"Conceited12?"
"Very."
"And a woman hater!"
"Far from it—he's easy. He may not think so, but between us he's an easy mark. I've always been afraid he'll make a fool of himself and marry without the consent of his younger brother. He's a great care to me."
The brown eyes twinkled:
"You love him very much?"
Ned Vaughan nodded his dark head slowly:
"Yes. We've quarrelled every day since the election."
"Over politics?"
"What else?"
"Love, perhaps."
The dark eyes met hers.
"No, he hasn't seen you yet——"
Betty's laugh was genial14 and contagious15.
He had meant to be serious and hoped that she would give him the opening he'd been sparring for. But she refused the challenge with such amusement he was piqued16.
"You're from Missouri, but you're a true Southerner, Mr. Vaughan."
"And you're a heartless Puritan," he answered with a frown.
She shook her golden brown curls:
"No—no—no! My name's an accident. My father was born in Maine on the Canada line. But my mother was French. I'm her daughter. I love sunlight and flowers, music and foolishness—and dream of troubadours who sing under my window. I hate long faces and gloom. But my father has ambition. I love him, and so I endure things."
Ned Vaughan looked at her timidly. For the life of him he couldn't make her out. Was she laughing at him? He half suspected it, and yet there was something sweet and appealing in the way she gazed into his eyes. He gave it up and changed the subject.
He had promised to bring John to-day and introduce him. He had been prattling17 like a fool about this older brother. He wished to God now something would keep him. The pangs18 of jealousy19 had already began to gnaw20 at the thought of her hand resting in his.
From the way Betty Winter had laughed she was quite capable of flying two strings21 to her bow. And with all the keener interest because they happened to be brothers. Why had she asked him so pointedly23 about John? He had excited her curiosity, of course, by his silly brother—hero-worship. He had told her of his brilliant career in New York under Horace Greeley on the Tribune—of Greeley's personal interest, and the flattering letter he had written to Colonel Forney, which had made him the city editor of the New Party organ in Washington—of his cool heroism24 the night the mob had attacked the Republican office—and last he had hinted of an affair over a woman in New York that had led to a challenge and a bloodless duel25—bloodless because his opponent failed to appear. It was his own fault, of course, if Betty was keeping him at arm's length to-day. No girl could fail to be interested in such a man—no matter who her father might be—Puritan or Cavalier.
His arm trembled in spite of his effort at self-control as he led her down the stately steps of the eastern fa?ade toward the Inaugural platform. He paused on the edge of the boards and pointed22 to the huge bronze figure of the statue of Liberty which had been cast to crown the dome26 of the Capitol. It lay prostrate27 in the mud and the crowds were climbing over it.
"I wonder if Miss Liberty will ever be lifted to her place on high?" he said musingly28.
"If they do finish the dome," Betty replied, "and crown it with that bronze, my father should sue for damages. One of his most eloquent29 figures of speech will be ruined. That prostrate work of art lying in the mud has given thousands of votes to the Republicans. I've caught myself crying over his eloquence30 at times myself."
Ned Vaughan smiled:
"A queer superstition31 has grown up in Washington that the dome of the Capitol will never be completed——"
"Do you believe it?"
"No. It will be finished. But I'm not sure whether Abraham Lincoln or Jefferson Davis will preside on that occasion."
"And I haven't the slightest doubt on that point," Betty said with quick emphasis.
"I thought you were not a student of politics?" he dryly observed.
"I'm not. It's just a feeling. Women know things by intuition."
The young man glanced upward at the huge crane which swung from the unfinished structure of the dome.
"Anyhow, Miss Betty," he said smilingly, "your Black Republican President has a beautiful day for the Inaugural."
"We'll hope it's a sign for the future—shall we?"
"I hope so," was the serious answer. "God knows there haven't been many happy signs lately. It was dark and threatening at dawn this morning and a few drops of rain fell up to eight o'clock."
"You were up at dawn?" the girl asked in surprise.
"Yes. The Senate has been in session all night over the new amendment32 to the Constitution guaranteeing to the South security in the possession of their slaves."
"And they passed it?"
"Yes——"
"Over my father's prostrate form?"
"Yes—an administrative33 measure, too. I've an idea from the 'moderation' of your father's remarks that there'll be some fun between the White House and the Senate Chamber during the next four years. For my part I share his scorn for such eleventh hour repentance34. It's too late. The mischief35 has been done. Secession is a fact and we've got to face it."
"But we haven't heard from the new President yet," Betty ventured.
"No. That's why this crowd's so still. For the first time since the foundation of the government, the thousands banked in front of this platform really wish to hear what a President-elect has to say."
"Isn't that a tremendous tribute to the man?"
"Possibly so—possibly not. He has been silent since his election. Not a word has fallen from his lips to indicate his policy. He has more real power from the moment he takes the oath of office than any crowned head of Europe. From his lips to-day will fall the word that means peace or war. That's why this crowd's so still."
"It's weird," Betty whispered. "You can feel their very hearts beat. Do you suppose the new President realizes the meaning of such a moment?"
"I don't think this one will. I interviewed Stanton, the retiring Attorney General of Buchanan's Cabinet, yesterday. He knows Lincoln personally—was with him in a lawsuit36 once before the United States Court. Stanton says he's a coward and a fool and the ugliest white man who ever appeared on this planet. He has already christened him 'The Original Gorilla,' or 'The Illinois Ape'——"
"I wonder," Betty broke in with petulance37, "if such a man could be elected President? I'm morbidly38 curious to see him. My father, as an Abolitionist, had to vote for him and he must support his administration as a Republican Senator. But his favorite name for the new Chief Magistrate39 is, 'The Illinois Slave Hound.' I've a growing feeling that his enemies have overdone40 their work. I'm going to judge him fairly."
Vaughan's lips slightly curved.
"They say he's a good stump41 speaker—a little shy on grammar, perhaps, but good on jokes—of the coarser kind. He ought to get one or two good guffaws42 even out of this sober crowd to-day."
"You think he'll stoop to coarse jokes?"
"Of course——"
"Is that your brother?" Betty asked with a quick intake43 of breath, lifting her head toward a stalwart figure rapidly coming down the wide marble steps.
Ned Vaughan looked up with a frown:
"How did you recognize him?"
"By his resemblance to you, of course."
"Thanks."
"You're as much alike as two black-eyed peas—except that you're more slender and boyish."
"And not quite so good-looking?"
A low mischievous44 laugh was her answer as John lifted his hat and stood smiling before them.
"Miss Winter, this is my brother, whose praises I've long been chanting. I've a little work to do in the crowd—I'll be back in a few minutes."
There was just a touch of irony45 in the smile with which the younger man spoke46 as he hurried away, but the girl was too much absorbed in the striking picture John Vaughan made to notice. The sparkling brown eyes took him in from head to foot in a quick comprehending flash. The fame of his personal appearance was more than justified47. He was the most strikingly good-looking man she had ever seen, and to her surprise there was not the slightest trace of self-consciousness or conceit13 about him. His high intellectual forehead, thick black hair inclined to curl at the ends and straight heavy eyebrows49 suggested at once a man of brains and power. He looked older than he was—at least thirty, though he had just turned twenty-six. The square strong jaw50 and large chin were eloquent of reserve force. Two rows of white, perfect teeth smiled behind the black drooping51 moustache and invited friendship. The one disquieting52 feature about him was the look from the depths of his dark brown eyes—so dark they were black in shadow. He had been a dreamer when very young and followed Charles A. Dana to Brook53 Farm for a brief stay.
Before he had spoken a dozen words the girl felt the charm of his singular and powerful personality.
"I needn't say that I'm glad to see you, Miss Winter," he began, with a friendly smile. "Ned has told me so much about you the past month I'd made up my mind to join the Abolitionists, and apply for a secretaryship to the Senator if I couldn't manage it any other way."
"And you'll be content to resume a normal life after to-day?"
She looked into his eyes with mischievous challenge. She had recovered her poise54.
He laughed, and a shadow suddenly swept his face:
"I wonder, Miss Winter, if any of us will live a normal life after to-day?"
"You've seen the Rail-splitter, our new President?"
"No, I didn't wait in the Senate Chamber. I came out here to make sure of my seat beside you——"
"To hear every word of the Inaugural, of course," Betty broke in.
"Yes, of course——" he paused and the faintest suggestion of a smile flickered55 about the corners of his eyes. "Ned told me you had three good seats. I am anxious to hear what he says—but more anxious to see him when he says it. I can read his Inaugural, but I want to see the soul of the man behind its conventional phrases——"
"He'll use conventional phrases?"
"Certainly. They all do. But no man ever came to the Presidential chair with as little confidence back of him. The Abolitionists have already begun to denounce him before he has taken the oath of office. The rank and file of the party that elected him are not Abolitionists and never for a moment believed that the Southern people were in earnest when they threatened Secession during the campaign. We thought it bluff56. To say that the whole North and West is panic-stricken is the simple truth.
"Horace Greeley and the Tribune are for Secession.
"'Let our erring57 sisters go!' the editor tells the millions who hang on his words as the oracle58 of heaven.
"The North has been talking Secession for thirty years, and now that the South is doing what they've been threatening, we wake up and try to persuade ourselves that no such right exists in a sovereign state. Yet we all know that Great Britain surrendered to the thirteen colonies as sovereign states and named each one of them in her articles of surrender and our treaty of peace. We know that there never would have been a Constitution or a union if the men who drew it and created the union had dared to question the right of either of these sovereign states to withdraw when they wished. They didn't dare to raise the question. They left it for their children to settle. Now we're facing it with a vengeance59.
"Our fathers only dreamed a union. They never lived to see it. This country has always been an aggregation60 of jangling, discordant61, antagonistic62 sections. How is this man who comes into power to-day, this humble63 rail-splitter, this County Court advocate, to achieve what our greatest statesmen have tried for nearly a hundred years and failed to do? Seward, the man he has called to be Secretary of State, has been here for two months, juggling64 with his enemies. He's a Secessionist at heart and expects the union to be divided——"
"Surely," Betty interrupted, "you can't believe that."
"It's true. We don't dare say this in our paper, but we know it. So sure is Seward of the collapse65 of the Lincoln administration that he withdrew his acceptance of the post of Secretary of State, only day before yesterday. It's uncertain at this hour whether he'll be in the cabinet——"
"Why?" Betty asked in breathless surprise.
The young editor was silent a moment and spoke in low tones:
"You can keep a secret?"
"State secrets—easily."
"Mr. Seward expects to be called to a position of greater power than President——"
"You mean?"
"The Dictatorship. That's the talk in the inner circles. Nobody in the North expects war or wants war——"
"Except my father," Betty laughed.
"The Abolitionists don't count. If we have war there are not enough of them to form a corporal's guard—to say nothing of an army. The North is hopelessly divided and confused. If the South unites—if North Carolina, Virginia, Tennessee, Kentucky, Arkansas, Missouri and Maryland join the Confederacy under Davis, the union is lost. What's going to hinder them from uniting? They are all Slave States. They believe the new President is a Black Abolitionist Republican. He isn't, of course, but they believe it. How can he reassure66 them? The States that have already plunged67 into Secession have hauled the flag down from every fort and arsenal68 except Sumter and Pickens. The new President can only retake these forts by force. The first shot fired will sweep every Slave State out of the union and arraign69 the millions of Democratic voters in the North solidly against the Government. God pity the man who takes the oath to-day to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution!"
When John Vaughan's voice died away at last into a passionate70 whisper, Betty stood looking at him in a spell. She recovered herself with a start and a smile.
"You've mistaken your calling, Mr. Vaughan," she said with emotion.
"Why do you say that?"
"You're a statesman—not an editor—you should be in the Cabinet."
"Much obliged, Miss Betty—but I'm not in this one, thank you. Besides, you're mistaken. I'm only an intelligent observer and reporter of events. I've never had the will to do creative things."
"Why?"
"The responsibility is too great. Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. Only God Almighty71 can save this Nation to-day. It's too much to expect of one man."
"Yet God must use man, mustn't He?"
"Yes. That's why my soul goes out in sympathy to the lonely figure who steps out of obscurity and poverty to-day to do this impossible thing. No such responsibility was ever before laid on the shoulders of one man. In all the history of the world he has no precedent72, no guide——"
Ned interrupted the flow of John's impassioned speech by suddenly appearing with uplifted hand.
"Never such a crowd as this!"
"Why, they say it's smaller than usual!" Betty exclaimed.
"I don't mean size," Ned went on rapidly. "It's their temper that's remarkable73. An Inauguration crowd should support the administration. The Lord help the Rail-splitter if that sullen74 dumb mob are his constituents75! Half of them are downright hostile——"
"Washington's a Southern town," John remarked.
"They are not Washington folks—not one in a hundred. And the only honest backers old Abe seems to have are about a thousand serious young fellows from the West, whom General Scott has armed as a special guard to circle the crowd."
He paused and pointed to a group of a dozen Westerners standing76 beside a bush in the outer rim77 of the throng78.
"There's a bunch of them—and there's one stationed every ten yards. The artillery in position, the infantry79 in line, the sharpshooters masked in windows, the guard under the platform with muskets80 cocked, and a thousand volunteers to threaten the crowd from without, I think the new President should get a respectful hearing! The procession is coming up the Avenue now with a guard of sappers and miners packed so closely around the open carriage you can't even see the top of old Abe's head——"
"Let's get our seats!" Betty cried.
They had scarcely taken them when a ripple81 of excitement swept the crowd as every head was turned toward the aisle82 that led down the centre of the platform.
"Oh, it's Mrs. Lincoln and the children and her sisters!" Betty exclaimed. "What perfect taste in her dress! She knows how to wear it, too. What a typical, plump, self-poised83 Southern matron she looks. And, oh, those darling little boys—aren't they dears! She's a Kentuckian, too—the irony of Fate! A Southerner with a Southern wife entering the White House and eight great Southern States seceding84 from the union because of it. It's a funny world, isn't it?"
"The South hardly claims Mr. Lincoln as a Southerner," Ned remarked dryly.
"Claim it or not, he is," John declared, nodding toward Betty, "as truly a Southerner as Jefferson Davis. They were both born in Kentucky almost on the same day——"
Another ripple of excitement and the Diplomatic Corps85 entered with measured stately tread, their gorgeous uniforms flashing in the sun. They took their seats on the left of the canopy86, Lord Lyons, the British minister, seated beside the representative of the Court of France, two men destined87 to play their parts in the drama of Life and Death on whose first act the curtain of history was slowly rising.
The black-robed Supreme88 Court of the Republic, in cap and gown, slowly followed and took their places on the right, opposite the Diplomatic Corps.
The Marine89 band struck the first notes of the National Hymn90 amid a silence whose oppressiveness could be felt. The tension of a great fear had gripped the hearts of the crowd with icy fingers. The stoutest91 soul felt its spell and was powerless to shake it off.
Was it the end of the Republic? Or the storm clouded dawn of a new and more wonderful life? God only could tell, and there were few men present who dared to venture a prediction.
A wave of subdued92 excitement rippled93 the throng and every eye was focused on the procession from the Senate Chamber.
"They're coming!" Betty whispered excitedly.
The contrast between the retiring President, James Buchanan, and Abraham Lincoln was startling even at the distance of the first view from the platform. The man of the old era was heavy and awkward in his movements, far advanced in years, with thin snow white hair, his pallid94 full face seamed and wrinkled and his head curiously95 inclined to the left shoulder. An immense white cravat96 like a poultice pushed his high standing collar up to the ears. The sharp contrast of the black swallow-tailed coat, with the dead white of cravat, collar, face and hair, suggested the uncanny idea of a moving corpse97.
With his eyes fixed98 on Buchanan, John suddenly exclaimed:
"A man who's dead and don't know it!"
Only for a moment did the actual President hold the eye. The man of the hour loomed99 large at the head of the procession and instantly fixed the attention of every man and woman within the range of vision. His giant figure seemed to tower more than a foot above his surroundings. Everything about him was large—an immense head, crowned with thick shock of coarse black hair, his strong jaws100 rimmed101 with bristling102 new whiskers, long arms and longer legs, large hands, big features, every movement quick and powerful. The first impression was one of enormous strength. He looked every inch the stalwart backwoods athlete, capable of all the feats103 of physical strength campaign stories had credited to his record. One glance at his magnificent frame and no one doubted the boast of his admirers that he could lift a thousand pounds, five hundred in each hand, or bend an iron poker104 by striking it across the muscle of his arm.
As he reached the speaker's stand beneath the crowded canopy, there was an instant's awkward pause. In his new immaculate dress suit with black satin vest, shining silk hat and gold-headed cane105, he seemed a little ill at ease. He looked in vain for a place to put his hat and cane and finally found a corner of the railing against which to lean the stick, but there seemed no place left for his new hat. Senator Stephen A. Douglas, his defeated Northern opponent for the Presidency106, with a friendly smile, took it from his hands.
As Douglas slipped gracefully107 back to his seat, he whispered to the lady beside him:
"If I can't be President, at least I can hold his hat!"
The simple, but significant, act of courtesy from the great leader of the Northern Democracy was not lost on the new Chief Magistrate. He could hardly believe what his eyes had seen at first, and then he smiled. Instantly the rugged109 features were transformed and his whole being was lighted with a strange soft radiance whose warmth was contagious.
Betty's eyes were dancing with excitement.
"He's not ugly at all!" she whispered.
Ned softly laughed:
"He certainly is not a beauty?"
"Who expects beauty in a real man?" she answered, with a touch of scorn. And Ned shot a look of inquiry110 at John's handsome face. But the older brother was too intent on the drama before him to notice. The editor's eyes were riveted111 on the new President, studying every detail of his impressive personality. He had never seen him before and was trying to form a just and accurate judgment112 of his character. Beyond a doubt he was big physically—this impression was overwhelming—everything large—the head with its high crown of skull113 and thick, bushy hair, deep cavernous eyes, heavy eyebrows which moved in quick sympathy with every emotion, large nose, large ears, large mouth, large, thick under lip, very high cheek bones, massive jaw bones with upturned chin, a sinewy114 long neck, long arms, and large hands, long legs, and big feet. A giant physically—and yet somehow he gave the impression of excessive gauntness and about his face there dwelt a strange impression of sadness and spiritual anguish115. The hollowness of his cheeks accented by his swarthy complexion116 emphasized this.
The crowd had recognized him instantly, but without the slightest applause. The silence was intense, oppressive, painful. John glanced up and saw the huge figure of Senator Wigfall, of Texas, looking down on the scene from the base of one of the white columns of the central fa?ade. He waved his arm defiantly117 and laughed. His presence in the Senate after all his associates had withdrawn118 was the subject of keen speculation119. He was believed to be a spy of the Confederate Government. He had asked General Scott, half in jest, if he would dare to arrest a Senator of the United States for treason. The answer was significant of the times. Looking the Senator straight in the eye the old hero slowly said:
"No—I'd blow him to hell!"
Evidently the Senator was not as yet unduly120 alarmed. His expression of triumphant121 contempt for the evident lack of enthusiasm could not be mistaken. When John Vaughan recalled the confusion in the ranks of the triumphant party he knew that the Senator's scorn would he redoubled if he but knew half the truth. Again he turned toward the tall, lonely man with sinking heart.
The ceremony moved swiftly. The silence was too oppressive to admit delay. Senator Baker122, of Oregon, the warm personal friend of Lincoln, stepped quickly to the edge of the platform. With hand outstretched in an easy graceful108 gesture, he said:
"Fellow Citizens: I introduce to you Abraham Lincoln, the President-elect of the United States of America."
Again the silence of death, as the once ragged123, lonely, barefoot boy from a Kentucky cabin stepped forward into the fiercest light that ever beat on human head.
He quickly adjusted his glasses, drew his tall figure to its full height, and began to read his address, his face suddenly radiant with the poise of conscious reserve power, oblivious124 of crowd, ceremony, hostility125 or friendship. His voice was strong, high pitched, clear, ringing, and his articulation126 singularly and beautifully perfect. His words carried to the outer edge of the vast silent throng.
Betty watched his mobile features with increasing fascination127. His bushy eyebrows and the muscles of his sensitive face moved and flashed in sympathy with every emotion. In a countenance128 of such large and rugged lines every movement spoke unusual power. The lift of an eyebrow48, the curve of the lip, the flash of the eye were gestures more eloquent than the impassioned sweep of the ordinary orator's arm. He made no gesture with hand or arm or the mass of his towering body. No portrait of this man had ever been made. She had seen many pictures and not one of them had suggested the deep, subtle, indirect expression of his face—something that seemed to link him with the big forces of nature.
The crowd was feeling this now and men were leaning forward from their seats on the platform. The venerable Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, Roger B. Taney, whose clear, accurate and mercilessly logical decision on Slavery had created the storm which swept Lincoln into power, was watching him with bated breath, and not for an instant during the Inaugural address did he lower his sombre eyes from the face of the speaker.
John C. Breckenridge, the retiring Vice-President, his defeated opponent from the Southern States, the proud Kentucky chevalier, was listening with keen and painful intensity129, his handsome cultured features pale with the consciousness of coming tragedy.
His opening words had been reassuring130 to the South, but woke no response from the silent thousands who stood before him as he went on:
"I have no purpose directly or indirectly131 to interfere132 with the institution of Slavery in the States where it exists. I believe I have no lawful133 right to do so, and I have no inclination134 to do so."
The simplicity135, directness and clearness of this statement could find no parallel in the pompous136 words of his predecessors137. The man was talking in the language of the people. It was something new under the sun.
And then, with the clear ring of a trumpet138, each syllable139 falling clean cut and sharp with marvellous distinctness, he continued:
"I hold that the union of these States is perpetual——"
He paused for an instant, his voice suddenly failing from deep emotion and then, as if stung by the silence with which this thrilling thought was received, he uttered the only words not written in his manuscript, and made the only gesture of his entire address. His great fist came down with a resounding140 smash on the table and in tones heard by the last man who hung on the edge of the throng, he said:
"No State has the right to secede141!"
And still no cheer came from the strangely silent crowd—only a vague shiver swept the hearts of the Southern people before him. If the North loved the union they were giving no tokens to the tall, lonely figure on that platform.
At last the sentences, big with the fate of millions, were slowly and tenderly spoken:
"I shall take care that the laws of the union be faithfully executed in all the States. Doing this I deem to be a simple duty on my part, and I shall perform it——"
At last he had touched the hidden powder magazine with an electric spark, and a cheer swept the crowd. It died away at last—rose with new power and rose a third time before it subsided142, and the clear voice went on:
"I trust this will not be regarded as a menace, but only as the declared purpose of the union that it will constitutionally defend and maintain itself. In doing this there needs be no bloodshed or violence; and there shall be none unless it be forced upon the National authority. The power confided143 in me will be used to hold and occupy and possess the property and places belonging to the Government."
Again the powder mine exploded, and a cheer rose. The grim walls of Fort Sumter and Pickens, in far off Southern waters, flashed red before every eye.
The applause suddenly died away into the old silence, and a man in the crowd before the platform yelled:
"We're for Jefferson Davis!"
There was no answer and no disorder—only the shrill144 cry of the Southerner through the silence, and the speaker continued his address. Senator Douglas looked uneasily over the crowd toward the spot from whence came the cry. His brow wrinkled with a frown.
John Vaughan leaned toward Betty and whispered half to himself:
"I wonder if those cheers were defiance145 after all?"
But the girl was too intent on the words of the speaker to answer. His next sentence brought a smile and a nod of approval from Senator Douglas.
"But beyond what may be necessary for those objects, there will be no invasion, no using of force against or among the people anywhere——"
Again and again Douglas nodded his approval and spoke it in low tones:
"Good! Good! That means no coercion146."
And then, followed in solemn tones, the fateful sentences:
"In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow countrymen, and not in mine is the momentous147 issue of civil war. The Government will not assail148 you unless you first assail it. You can have no conflict without yourselves being the aggressors. You have no oath registered in Heaven to destroy the Government, while I shall have the most solemn one to 'preserve, protect and defend' it. You can forbear the assault upon it; I can not shrink from the defense149 of it——"
Again he paused, and the crowd hung spellbound as he began his closing paragraph in tender persuasive150 accents throbbing151 with emotion, his clear voice breaking for the first time:
"I am loath152 to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory stretching from every battlefield and patriot153 grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land will yet swell154 the chorus of the union when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature."
The closing words fell from his sensitive lips with the sad dreamy eyes blinded by tears.
At last he had touched the hearts of all. The sincerity155 and beauty of the simple appeal for the moment hushed bitterness and passion and the cheer was universal.
The black-robed figure of the venerable Chief Justice stepped forward with extended open Bible. His bony, trembling fingers and cadaverous intellectual face gave the last touch of dramatic contrast between the old and new régimes.
The tall, dark man reverently156 laid his left hand on the open Book, raised his right arm, and slowly repeated the words of the oath:
"I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, so help me God!"
The words had scarcely died on his lips when the distant boom of cannon157 proclaimed the new President. The crowd on the platform rose and stood with uncovered heads, while the procession formed in the same order as at its entrance and returned to the White House.
"What do you think of it?" Betty asked breathlessly, turning to Ned.
The firm young lips came together with sudden passion:
"The argument has ended. To your tents, O Israel! It means war——"
"Nonsense," John broke in impetuously. "It means anything or nothing. It's hot and cold—a straddle, a contradiction——"
He paused and turned to Betty:
"What do you think?"
"Of the President?" she asked dreamily.
"Of his Inaugural," John corrected.
"I don't know whether it means peace or war, not being a statesman, but of one thing I'm sure——"
She paused and Ned leaned close:
"Yes?"
"That a great man has appeared on the scene——"
Both men laughed and she went on with deep earnestness:
"I mean it—he's splendid—he's wonderful! He's a poet—a dreamer—and so typically Southern, Mr. Ned Vaughan. I could easily picture him fighting a duel over a fine point of honor, as he did once. He's patient, careful, wise, cautious—very tender and very strong. To me he's inspired——"
Again both men laughed.
"I honestly believe that God has sent him into the Kingdom for such a time as this."
"You get that impression from his rambling158 address with its obvious effort to straddle the Universe?" John asked incredulously.
"Not from what he said," Betty persisted, "so much as the way he said it—though I got the very clear idea that his purpose is to save the union. He made that thought ring through my mind over all others."
"You really like him?" Ned asked with a cold smile.
"I love him," was the eager answer. "He's adorable. He's genuine—a man of the people. We've had many Presidents who wore purple and fine linen159 and professed160 democracy—now we've the real thing. I wonder if they'll crucify him. All through his address I could see the little ragged forlorn boy standing beside his mother's grave crying his heart out in despair and loneliness. He's wonderful. And he's not overawed by these big white pillars above us, either. The man who tries to set up for a Dictator while he's in the White House will find trouble——"
"The two leading men he has called to his cabinet," John broke in musingly, "hold him in contempt."
"There's a surprise in store for Mr. Seward and Mr. Chase," Betty ventured.
"I'm afraid your father will not agree with you, Miss Betty," Ned laughed, glancing toward Senator Winter. "I foresee trouble for you."
"No danger. My father never quarrels with me over politics. He just pities my ignorance and lets it go at that. He never condescends161 to my level——"
She stopped suddenly and waved her hand toward the group of excited men who had gathered around Senator Winter.
A smile of recognition lighted the sombre Puritan face, as he pushed his friends aside and rapidly approached.
"How's my little girl?" he cried tenderly. "Enjoy the show?"
"Yes, dear, immensely—you know Mr. John Vaughan, Father, don't you?"
The old man smiled grimly as he extended his hand:
"I know who he is—though I haven't had the honor of an introduction. I'm glad to see you, Mr. Vaughan—though I don't agree with many of your editorials."
"We'll hope for better things in the future, Senator," John laughed.
"What's your impression of the Inaugural, Senator?" Ned asked, with a twinkle of mischief in his eye.
"You are asking me that as a reporter, young man, or as a friend of my daughter?"
"Both, sir."
"Then I'll give you two answers. One for the public and one for you. I've an idea you're going to be a rebel, sir——"
"We hope not, Senator," John protested.
"I've my suspicions from an interview we had once. But you're a good reporter, sir. I trust your ability and honesty however deeply I suspect your patriotism162. As a Republican Senator I say to you for publication: The President couldn't well have said less. It might have been unwise to say more. To you, as a budding young rebel and a friend of my daughter, I say, with the utmost frankness, that I have no power to express my contempt for that address. From the lips of the man we elected to strangle Slavery fell the cowardly words:
"'I have no purpose directly or indirectly to interfere with the institution of Slavery in the States where it exists'——"
The grim blue-grey eyes flashed with rage, he paused for breath and then, livid with suppressed emotion, continued:
"For fifty years every man who has stood on this platform to take the oath as President has turned his face to the South and bowed the knee to Baal. We hoped for better things to-day——" He paused a moment and his eyes filled with angry tears:
"How long, O Lord! How long!"
"But you mustn't forget, Senator, that he didn't run and we didn't win on an Abolition8 platform. We only raised the issue of the extension of Slavery into the new territories——"
"Yes!" the old man sneered163. "But you didn't fool the South! They are past masters in the art of politics. The South is seceding because they know that the Republican Party was organized to destroy Slavery—and that its triumph is a challenge to a life and death fight on that issue. It's a waste of time to beat the devil round the stump. We've got to face it. I hate a trimmer and a coward!—But don't you dare print that for a while, young man——"
"Hardly, sir," Ned answered with a smile.
"I've got to support my own administration for a few days at least—and then!—well, we won't cross any bridges till we come to them."
He stopped abruptly164 and turned to John:
"Come to see us, Mr. Vaughan. Your paper should be a power before the end of the coming four years. I know Forney, your chief. I'd like to know you better——"
"Thank you, Senator," the young editor responded cordially.
"Can't you dine with us to-morrow night, Mr. Vaughan?" Betty asked, unconsciously bending toward his straight, well poised figure. Ned observed her with a frown, and heard John's answer in a sudden surge of anger.
"Certainly, Miss Betty, with pleasure."
To Ned's certain knowledge it was the first invitation of the kind he had accepted since his advent165 in Washington. Again he cursed himself for a fool for introducing them.
Betty beamed her friendliest look straight into his eyes and softly said:
"You'll come, of course, Mr. Ned?"
For the life of him he couldn't get back his conventional tones for an answer. His voice trembled in spite of his effort.
"Thank you," he said slowly, "it will not be possible. I've an assignment at the White House for that evening."
He turned abruptly and left them.
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1
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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inauguration
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| n.开幕、就职典礼 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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avowed
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| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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inaugural
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| adj.就职的；n.就职典礼 | |
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squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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abolition
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| n.废除，取消 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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16
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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17
prattling
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的现在分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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18
pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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20
gnaw
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| v.不断地啃、咬；使苦恼，折磨 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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23
pointedly
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| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
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24
heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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25
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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27
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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28
musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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29
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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30
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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31
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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32
amendment
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| n.改正，修正，改善，修正案 | |
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33
administrative
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| adj.行政的，管理的 | |
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34
repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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35
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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lawsuit
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| n.诉讼，控诉 | |
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37
petulance
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| n.发脾气，生气，易怒，暴躁，性急 | |
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38
morbidly
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| adv.病态地 | |
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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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40
overdone
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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41
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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42
guffaws
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| n.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的名词复数 )v.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的第三人称单数 ) | |
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43
intake
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| n.吸入，纳入；进气口，入口 | |
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44
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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45
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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46
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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47
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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48
eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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49
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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50
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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51
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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52
disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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53
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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54
poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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55
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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56
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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57
erring
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| 做错事的，错误的 | |
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58
oracle
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| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
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59
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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60
aggregation
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| n.聚合，组合；凝聚 | |
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61
discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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62
antagonistic
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| adj.敌对的 | |
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63
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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64
juggling
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| n. 欺骗, 杂耍(=jugglery) adj. 欺骗的, 欺诈的 动词juggle的现在分词 | |
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65
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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66
reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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67
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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68
arsenal
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| n.兵工厂，军械库 | |
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69
arraign
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| v.提讯；控告 | |
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70
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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71
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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72
precedent
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| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
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73
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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74
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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constituents
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| n.选民( constituent的名词复数 )；成分；构成部分；要素 | |
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76
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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77
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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78
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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79
infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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80
muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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81
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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82
aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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83
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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84
seceding
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| v.脱离，退出( secede的现在分词 ) | |
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85
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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86
canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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87
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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88
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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89
marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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90
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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91
stoutest
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| 粗壮的( stout的最高级 )； 结实的； 坚固的； 坚定的 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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93
rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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94
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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95
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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96
cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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98
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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99
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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100
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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101
rimmed
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| adj.有边缘的，有框的v.沿…边缘滚动；给…镶边 | |
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102
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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103
feats
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| 功绩，伟业，技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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104
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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105
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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106
presidency
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| n.总统(校长，总经理)的职位(任期) | |
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107
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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108
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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109
rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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111
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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112
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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113
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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114
sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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115
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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116
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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117
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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118
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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119
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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120
unduly
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| adv.过度地，不适当地 | |
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121
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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122
baker
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| n.面包师 | |
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123
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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124
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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125
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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126
articulation
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| n.（清楚的）发音；清晰度，咬合 | |
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127
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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128
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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129
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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130
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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131
indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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132
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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lawful
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| adj.法律许可的，守法的，合法的 | |
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134
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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135
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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136
pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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137
predecessors
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| n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 )；前辈；（被取代的）原有事物；前身 | |
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138
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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139
syllable
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| n.音节；vt.分音节 | |
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140
resounding
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| adj. 响亮的 | |
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141
secede
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| v.退出，脱离 | |
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142
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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143
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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144
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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145
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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146
coercion
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| n.强制，高压统治 | |
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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148
assail
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| v.猛烈攻击，抨击，痛斥 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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150
persuasive
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| adj.有说服力的，能说得使人相信的 | |
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151
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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152
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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153
patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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154
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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155
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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156
reverently
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| adv.虔诚地 | |
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157
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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158
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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159
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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160
professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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161
condescends
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的第三人称单数 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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162
patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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163
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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164
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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165
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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