She attempted to plead with him, but he very peremptorily ordered her to go, saying that he could do nothing for her.
Friends asked her to go to see Lincoln, but, sharing in the Southern prejudice or misunderstanding of the President, she refused in despair, believing him to be more fierce than Stanton. But she was at last persuaded to try.
With fear and trembling she came into his presence, and in the greatest joy any woman can have she came away.
“When I was permitted to go in to see him,” she said, in describing the scene, “he was alone. He immediately arose, with the most reassuring respect, and, pointing to a chair by his side, said, ‘Take this seat, Madam, and tell me what I can do for you.’”
She handed him, without speaking, a letter telling the truth about her son. He read it thoughtfully.
“Do you believe he will honor his parole if I permit him to go with you,” he said, with great kindness in his voice.
“I am ready, Mr. President,” she replied, “to peril my personal liberty that he will keep his parole.”
“You shall have your boy, my dear Madam,” he said. “To take him from the ranks of rebellion and give him to a loyal mother is the best investment that can be made by this government.”
He handed her an order to give to the commanding officer at Fort McHenry.
“May God grant,” he fervently added, “that your boy may prove a blessing to you and an honor to his country.”