"But your President, Mr. Lincoln, I am told is a cruel monster, intent upon the destruction of the South."
"You are sadly misinformed, Mrs. Ruthven. There never beat a warmer, kinder heart than that of Abraham Lincoln, I know, for I have seen him and spoken with him, and I know that no one sorrows more over the stricken homes and bloodshed of this unhappy strife. He is misjudged now, but posterity will do him justice."
"I cannot believe it. If he deplores the evils of war, why does he not end it at once, and order his hordes of Yankee invaders to throw down their arms?"
"Because the life of the nation is at stake. I do not wish to speak severely of your leaders. They are actuated by a mistaken sense of right. Amid the clash of arms, Reason is silent. We are fighting, not against the South, but for its best good."
"You plead well, Colonel Stanton, but I am not convinced," answered the lady of the house.
At that moment Jack came up again, bringing Marion.
"Marion!" cried Harry Powell, and ran up to her.
"Harry!" she returned, and put out her hand to him.
"Will you shake hands with a Yankee?" he asked. "Jack was rather backward about doing it."
"I am always ready to shake hands with my cousin," she returned, and blushed.