"Well, it will. It has lasted nearly three, and it will kick for two more. I ought to be promoted, by (this and that) for my sagacity."
"Just so," laughed the M. C. "But you won't be. The trouble is that you say just what the Copperheads say; and you get credit for the same motives. It is urged, moreover, that men like you discourage the nation and cheer the rebels."
"By Jove! I'd like to see the rebel who would be cheered by the news that the war will last two years longer."
The honorable member laughed again, in recognition of the hit, and proceeded:
"Then there is that old filibustering affair. When you went into that you were not so good a prophet as you are now; and in fact it is a very unfortunate affair at present; it stands in your way confoundedly. In fact, you are not a favorite with our left wing—our radicals. The President is all right. The War Department is all right. They admit your faithfulness, ability and services. It is the Senate that knocks you. I am afraid you will have to wait for something to turn up. In fact, I don't see my way to a confirmation yet."
Carter swore, groaned, and chewed his cigar to a pulp.
"But don't be discouraged," pursued the M. C. "We have brought over two or three of the radicals to your side. Three or four more will do the job. Then we can get a nomination with assurance of a confirmation. I promise you it shall be attended to at the first chance. But you must come out strong against slavery. Abolition is your card. New converts must be zealous, you know."
"By Jove, I am strong. I didn't believe in arming the negro once; but I do now. It was a good movement. I'll take a black brigade."
"Will you? Then you can have a white one, I guess. By the way, perhaps you can do something for yourself. A good many of the Members are in town already. I'll take you around—show you to friends and enemies. In fact you can do something for yourself."
Carter did something in the way of treating, giving game-suppers, flattering and talking anti-slavery, smiling outwardly the while, but within full of bitterness. It seemed to him a gross injustice that the destiny of a man who had fought should be ruled by people who slept in good beds every night and had never heard a bullet whistle. He thought that he was demeaning himself by bowing down to members of Congress and State wire-pullers; but he was driven to it by his professional rage for promotion, and still more urgently by the necessity of increasing his income. When he left Washington after the two weeks' stay which was permitted to him, his nomination to a brigadiership was promised, and he had strong hopes of obtaining the Senatorial confirmation. At New York he called on Mrs. Larue. He had not meant to do it when he quitted the virtuous capital of the nation, but as he approached her he felt drawn towards her by something stronger than the engine. Moreover, he thought to himself that she might do something for his promotion if she could be induced to go to Washington and try the ponderosity of the United States Senate with that powerful social lever of hers, la sainte passion, etc.