"What is it, dear?" Betty asked in alarm.
"One of those unfortunate things that have been happening somewhere
every day for the past year--an arrest and imprisonment for treasonable
utterances----"
"Who has been arrested?"
"This time my father in Missouri."
"Your father?" she gasped.
"Yes. He has been a bitter critic of the war. He seems to have gone too
far. There was a riot of some sort in the village and he took the wrong
side."
There was an ominous quiet in the way he talked.
"I'll take you to see the President, dearest," she said soothingly.
"We'll ask for his release. It's sure to be granted."
John's eyes suddenly flashed.
"You think so?"
"Absolutely sure of it."
"We'll try it then," he said, with a cold ring in his voice that chilled
Betty's heart, and sent her home wondering at its meaning.
CHAPTER XXXV
THE DARKEST HOUR
In the summer of 1864 the President saw the darkest hours of his life.
The change in his appearance was startling and pitiful. His sombre eyes
seemed to have sunk into their caverns beneath the bushy brows and all
but disappeared. Their gaze was more and more detached from earth and
set on some dim, invisible shore. Deeper and deeper sank the furrows in
his ashen face. The shoulders drooped beneath a weight too great for any
human soul to bear.
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