As the little group stood in silence about his bed, they recalled his words to Colonel Knox only a few days before, when warned of the danger that might be lurking in hidden corners.
"I must come and go as usual," he said; "I cannot surround myself with a body-guard. If the good of this country, the interests of pure government and of the people against one-man power, demand the sacrifice of my life, I think I am ready."
The arrival of Mrs. Garfield from Long Branch was anxiously awaited all through that long, weary afternoon. An accident to the engine delayed the train upon which she had started, and it was evening before she reached the White House.
The President's quick ears heard the carriage-wheels as they rolled over the gravel driveway, and with a bright smile, he exclaimed,—
"That's my wife! God bless the little woman!" Then the strong-will power that had kept him up to this moment, seemed suddenly to give way. His attendants thought he was dying, and for hours his life hung upon the merest thread.
Slowly, but surely, the tide began to turn. At midnight he was still conscious—the doctors thought there was "one chance" that he might recover—the President had bravely taken that one chance; and with lightning speed the good news was telegraphed all over the country.
Sunday morning the President was so much better that he wanted to know what had been said about the assassination—and what was the general feeling throughout the country.
"The country," replied Colonel Rockwell, "is full of sympathy for you. We will save all the papers so that you can see them when you get well; but you must not talk now."
The President smiled, and in the broken slumber that followed he murmured to himself,—
"The great heart of the people will not let the old soldier die!"