The shadow of a great sorrow shrouded his face and form. The shoulders
drooped. But the light in the depths of his sombre eyes was growing
steadily in intensity.
Old Edward, the veteran hallman, appeared at the door with his endless
effort to wash his hands without water.
"A young gentleman wishes to see you, sir, a reporter I think--Mr. Ned
Vaughan, of the _Daily Republican_."
Without lifting his eyes from the Virginia hills, the quiet voice said:
"Let him in."
In vain the wily diplomat of the press sought to obtain a declaration of
policy on the question of the relief of Fort Sumter. In his easy,
friendly way the President made him welcome, but only smiled and slowly
shook his head in answer to each pointed question, or laughed aloud at
the skillful traps he was invited to enter.
"It's no use, my boy," he said at last, with a weary gesture. "I'm not
going to tell you anything to-day----" he paused, and the light suddenly
flashed from beneath his shaggy brows, "----except this--you can say to
your readers that my course is as plain as a turnpike road. It is marked
out by the Constitution. I am in no doubt which way to go. I am going to
try to save the Union."
"In short," Ned laughed, "you propose to stand by your Inaugural?"
"That's a pretty good guess, young man! I'm surprised that you paid such
close attention to my address.
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