The Southerner: A Romance of the Real Lincoln Part 93

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

THE a.s.sa.s.sIN

John Vaughan's face paled with the sudden realization of the tremendous deed he was about to do. It had seemed the only solution of the Nation's life and his own, an hour ago. The air of Washington reeked with deadly hatred of the President. Every politician who could not control his big, straightforward, honest mind was his enemy. The gloom which shrouded the country over Grant's losses and the failure of his campaign had set every hound yelping at his heels in full cry. He spent much of his time in the hospitals visiting and cheering the wounded soldiers. These men were his friends. They believed in his honesty, his gentleness and his humanity, and yet so deadly had grown the pa.s.sions of war and so bitter the madness of political prejudice that the majority of the wounded men were going to vote against him in the approaching election.

An informal vote taken in Carver Hospital had shown the amazing result of three to one in favor of McClellan!

John Vaughan, in his fevered imagination, had felt that he was rendering a heroic service to the people in removing the one obstacle to peace.

The President was the only man who could possibly defeat McClellan and continue the war. He was denounced by the opposition as usurper, tyrant, and dictator. He was denounced by thousands of men in his own party as utterly unfit to wield the power he possessed.

And yet, as he heard the slow, heavy footfall approaching the door, a moment of agonizing doubt gripped his will and weakened his arm. His eye rested on a worn thumbed copy of the Bible which lay open on the desk.

This man, who was not a church member, in the loneliness of his awful responsibilities, had been searching there for guidance and inspiration.

There was a pathos in the thought that found his inner conscience through the mania that possessed him.

Well, he'd test him. He would try this tyrant here alone before the judgment bar of his soul--condemn him to death or permit him to live, as he should prove true or false to his mighty trust.

His hand touched his revolver again and he set his square jaws firmly.

The tall figure entered and closed the door.

A flash of blind rage came from the depths of John Vaughan's dark eyes at the first sight of him. He moved forward a step and his hand trembled in a desperate instinctive desire to kill. He was a soldier. His enemy was before him advancing. To kill had become a habit. It seemed the one natural thing to do.

He stopped with a shock of surprise as the President turned his haggard eyes in a dazed way and looked about the room.

The light fell full on his face increasing its ghost-like pathetic expression. The story of anxiety and suffering was burnt in letters of fire that left his features a wrinkled mask of grey ashes. The drooping eyelids were swollen, and dark bags hung beneath them. The muscles of his ma.s.sive jaws were flaccid, the lines about his large expressive mouth terrible in their eloquence. His sombre eyes seemed to gaze on the world with the anguish of millions in their depths.

For a moment John Vaughan was held in a spell by the unexpected apparition.

"You are alone, sir?" the quiet voice slowly asked.

"Yes."

"I had expected Miss Winter----"

"She came with me and was compelled to leave."

"Oh--will you pull up a chair."

The tall form dropped wearily at his desk. His voice had a far-away expression in its tones.

"And what can I do for you, sir?" he asked.

"My name is Vaughan--John Vaughan----"

The dark head was lifted with interest:

"The brother of Ned Vaughan, who escaped from prison?"

John nodded:

"The son of Dr. Richard Vaughan, of Palmyra, Missouri."

"Then you're our boy, fighting with Grant's army--yes, I heard of you when your brother was in trouble. You've been ill, I see--wounded, of course?"

"Yes."

The President rose and took his visitor's hand, clasping it with both his own:

"There's nothing I won't do for one of our wounded boys if I can--what is it?"

"My mother writes me that my father has been arrested without warrant, is held in prison without bail and denied the right to trial----"

He paused and leaned on the desk, trembling with excitement which had increased as he spoke.

"I have come to ask you for justice--that he shall be confronted by his accusers in open court and given a fair trial----"

A frown deepened the shadows in the dark, kindly face:

"And for what was he arrested?"

"For exercising the right of free speech. In a public address he denounced the war----"

The President shook his head sorrowfully:

"You see, my boy, your house is divided against itself--the symbol in the family group of our unhappy country. Of course, I didn't know of this arrest. Such things hurt me, so I refuse to know of them unless I must. They tell me that Seward and Stanton have arrested without warrant thirty-five thousand men. I hope this is an exaggeration. Still it may be true----"

He stopped, sighed, and shook his head again:

"But come, now, my son, and put yourself in my place. What can I do?

I've armed two million men and spend four millions a day to fight the South because they try to secede and disrupt the Union. My opponents in the North, taking advantage of our sorrows, harangue the people and elect a hostile legislature in Indiana, Ohio, and Illinois. They are about to pa.s.s an ordinance of secession and strike the Union in the back. If secession is wrong in the South it is surely wrong in the North. Shall I fight secession in the South and merely argue politely with it here? Instead of shooting these men, I've consented to a more merciful thing, I just let Seward and Stanton lock them up until the war is over and then I'll turn them all loose.

"Understand, my boy, I don't shirk responsibility. No Cabinet or Congress could conduct a successful war. There must be a one man power.

I have been made that power by the people. I am using it reverently but firmly. And I am backed by the prayers, the good will and the confidence of the people--the silent millions whom I don't see, but love and trust.

"This war was not of my choosing. Once begun, it must be fought to the end and the Nation saved. It will then be proved that among free men there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet, and that they who take such appeal are sure to lose their case and pay the cost. To preserve the life of the Const.i.tution I must strain some of its provisions in time of war----"

"And you will not interfere to give these accused men a trial?" John Vaughan interrupted in hard tones.

"I cannot, my boy, I dare not interfere. The civil law must be suspended temporarily in such cases. I cannot shoot a soldier for desertion and allow the man to go free who, by denouncing the war, causes him to desert. It cuts to the very heart of the Nation--its life is involved----"

He rose again and paced the floor, turning his back on his visitor in utter unconsciousness of the dangerous glitter in his eyes.

He paused and placed his big hand gently on John's arm:

"I know in doing this I am wielding a dangerous power--the power of kings--not because I love it, but because I must save my country. And I'm the humblest man who walks G.o.d's earth to-night!"