Every disaster is laid at
his door. In his big heart he is carrying the burden of millions--their
suffering, their sorrows, their despair. You blamed him at first for
trifling with the war. Now you blame him for the bloody results when the
army really fights. You ask for an effective campaign and when you get
these tragic battles you heap on his head greater curses. It isn't
right. It isn't fair. I can't understand how a man with your deep sense
of justice can be so cruelly inconsistent----"
The Senator shook his grey head in protest:
"There! there! dear--we won't discuss it. You're a woman and you can't
understand my point of view. We'll just agree to disagree. You like the
man in the White House. God knows he's lonely--I shouldn't begrudge him
that little consolation. His whole attitude in this war is loathsome to
me. To him the Southerners are erring brethren to be brought back as
prodigal sons in the end. To me they are criminal outlaws to be hanged
and quartered--their property confiscated, the foundations of their
society destroyed, and every trace of their States blotted from the
map----"
"Father!"
"Until we understand that such is the purpose of the war we can get
nowhere--accomplish nothing. But there, dear--I didn't mean to say so
much. There is always one thing about which there can be no dispute--I
love my little girl----"
He slipped his arm about her tenderly again.
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