The Southerner: A Romance of the Real Lincoln Part 23

There was no answer and no disorder--only the shrill 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 defiance 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 coercion."

And then, followed in solemn tones, the fateful sentences:

"In _your_ hands, my dissatisfied fellow countrymen, and not in _mine_ is the momentous issue of civil war. The Government will not a.s.sail _you_ unless you _first_ a.s.sail _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 _a.s.sault_ upon it; _I_ can _not_ shrink from the _defense_ of it----"

Again he paused, and the crowd hung spellbound as he began his closing paragraph in tender persuasive accents throbbing with emotion, his clear voice breaking for the first time:

"I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though pa.s.sion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land will yet swell 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 sincerity and beauty of the simple appeal for the moment hushed bitterness and pa.s.sion 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 regimes.

The tall, dark man reverently 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 Const.i.tution of the United States, so help me G.o.d!"

The words had scarcely died on his lips when the distant boom of cannon 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 pa.s.sion:

"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 G.o.d has sent him into the Kingdom for such a time as this."

"You get that impression from his rambling 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 linen and professed 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 condescends 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.