The Southerner: A Romance of the Real Lincoln Part 19

CHAPTER I

THE MAN OF THE HOUR

"It's positively uncanny----"

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 Inauguration."

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 feverish preparation for violence----"

Betty laughed:

"I'm afraid you're not a good judge of the needs of the incoming administration. As an avowed Secessionist--you're hardly in their confidence."

"Thank G.o.d, I'm not."

"What are those horses doing over there by the trees?"

"Masked battery of artillery."

"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 Inaugural 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 squad 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 G.o.d 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 stiffened:

"The South won't fight that way. If they begin war it will be the most solemn act of life. It will be for G.o.d and country, and what they believe to be right. The Southern people are not a.s.sa.s.sins. 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 opposition 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 Chamber for the ceremonies. He'll join us before the procession gets here."

"He's as handsome as everybody says?" she asked navely.

"I'll admit he's a good-looking fellow if he is my brother."

"And vain?"

"As a peac.o.c.k----"

"Conceited?"

"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."