The Southerner: A Romance of the Real Lincoln Part 59

"I came alone, dear," the mother said brokenly, "because his father is so bitter. You see we're divided at home, too. I'm with John in his love for the Union--but his father is bitter against the war. It would do no good for him to come. He hates the President and says he's responsible for all the blood and suffering--and so I'm alone--but you'll help me?"

"Yes, I'll help and we'll fight to win."

The mother held her at arms' length a moment:

"How sweet and beautiful you are! How happy I am that you love my John!

I'm proud of you. Is John here?"

Betty's face clouded:

"No. I telegraphed him to come. He answered that a great battle was about to be fought and that it was absolutely useless to ask for pardon----"

"But it isn't--is it, dear?"

"No, we'll fight. John doesn't know the President as I do. We'll never give up--you and I--Mother!"

Again they were in each other's arms in silence. The older woman held her close.

And then came the long, hard fight.

The President heard the mother's plea with tender patience and shook his head sorrowfully.

"I'm sorry, dear Madam," he said at last, "to find this case so dangerous and difficult. Our army is approaching a battle. Tremendous issues hang on the results. It looks now as if this battle may end the war. The enemy have as good right to send their brave scouts and spies among us to learn our secrets as we have to send ours to learn theirs.

They kill our boys without mercy when captured. I have just asked Jefferson Davis to spare the life of one of the n.o.blest and bravest men I have ever known. He was caught in Richmond on a daring errand for his country. They refused and executed him. How can I face my Secretary of War with such a pardon in my hands?"

The mother's head drooped lower with each sorrowful word and when the voice ceased she fell on her knees, with clasped hands and streaming eyes in a voiceless prayer whose dumb agony found the President's heart more swiftly and terribly than words.

"O my dear little mother, you mustn't do that!" he protested, seizing her hands and lifting her to her feet. "You mustn't kneel to me, I'm not G.o.d--I'm just a distracted man praying from hour to hour and day to day for wisdom to do what's right! I can't stand this--you mustn't do such things--they kill me!"

He threw his big hands into the air with a gesture of despair, his face corpse-like in its ashen agony. He took a step from her and leaned against the long table in the centre of the room for support.

Betty whispered something in the mother's ear and led her near again.

"If you'll just give my boy to me alive," she went on in low anguish, "I'll take him home and keep him there and I'll pledge my life that he will never again take up arms against the Union----"

"You can guarantee me that?" he interrupted, holding her gaze.

"I'm sure of it. He's n.o.ble, high-spirited, the soul of honor. He was always good and never gave me an hour's sorrow in his life until this war came----"

The long arm suddenly swung toward his Secretary:

"Have the prisoner, Ned Vaughan, brought here immediately. When he comes, Madam, I'll see what can be done."

With a sob of joy the mother leaned against Betty, who took her out into the air until the wagon from the jail should come.

They had led Ned quickly into the President's office before his mother and Betty knew of his arrival. His wrists were circled with handcuffs.

The President looked over his spectacles at the irons and spoke sharply:

"Take those things off him----"

The guard hesitated, and the high pitched voice rang with angry authority:

"Take off those handcuffs, I tell you. His mother'll be here in a minute--take 'em off!"

The guard quickly removed the manacles and the President turned to him and his attendants:

"Clear out now. I'll call you when I want you."

Ned bowed:

"Thank you, sir."

"I hope I can do more than that for you, my boy. It all depends on you----"

The mother's cry of joy stopped him short as she walked into the door.

With a bound she reached Ned's side, clasped him in her arms and kissed him again and again with the low caressing words that only a mother's lips can breathe. He loosened her hands tenderly:

"I'm glad you came, dear. It's all right. You mustn't worry. This is war, you know."

"But we're going to save you, my darling. The President's going to pardon you. I feel it--I know it. That's why he sent for you. G.o.d has heard my prayer."

"I'm afraid you don't understand these things, dear," Ned replied tenderly. "The President can't pardon me--no one understands that better than I do----"

"But he will, darling! He will----"

Ned soothed her and turned to Betty.

"Just a moment, Mother, I wish to speak to Miss Betty."

He took her hand and looked into her face with wistful intensity.

"One long look at the girl of my dreams and I'll wait for you on the other side! This is not the way I told you I would return, is it? But it's war. We must take it as it comes--good-bye--dearest----"

"O Ned, Boy, the President will pardon you if you'll be reasonable. You must, for her sake, if not because I ask it."

"It's sweet of you to try this, dearest, but of course, it's useless.

The President must be just."

The tall figure rose and Ned turned to face his desk.

"Young man," he began gently, "you're a soldier of exceptional training and intelligence. You knew the danger and the importance of your mission. You have failed and your life is forfeited to the Nation, but for your mother's sake, because of her love and her anguish and her loyalty, I have decided to trust you and send you home on parole in her custody if you take the oath of allegiance----"

The mother gave a sob of joy.

"I thank you, Mr. President," was the firm reply, "for your generous offer for my mother's sake, but I cannot take your oath. I have sworn allegiance to another Government in the righteousness and justice of whose cause I live and am ready to die----"

"Ned--Ned!" the mother moaned.