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Dixon, Thomas, 1864-1946

"The Southerner A Romance of the Real Lincoln"

Anyhow, when I lay in the hospital recovering from
my wounds, I got the letter about my father and made up my mind to kill
you----"
He paused, but the sombre eyes gave no sign--they seemed to be gazing on
the shores of eternity.
"And I came here to-night for that purpose--my men are in that hall
now!"
He stopped and folded his hands deliberately, waiting for his judge to
speak.
A long silence fell between them. The tall, sorrowful man was looking at
him with a curious expression of wonder and self pity.
"So you came here to-night to kill me?"
"Yes."
Again a long silence--the deep eyes looking, looking with their strange
questioning gaze.
"Well," the younger man burst out at last, "what is my fate? I deserve
it. Even generosity and gentleness have their limit. I've passed it.
And I've no desire to escape."
The kindly hand was lifted to John Vaughan's shoulder:
"Why didn't you do it?"
"Because for the first time you made me see things as you see them--I
got a glimpse of the inside----"
"Then I won you--didn't I?" the President cried with elation. "I've been
talking to you just to keep my courage up--just to save my own soul from
the hell of despair. But you've lifted me up. If I can win you I can win
the others if I could only get their ear. All I need is a little time.


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