"I can't help it, darling. Life hangs on this message—our home—"
She paused and her eyes wandered about the familiar room and its furnishings.
"You know how I love this home. It's woven into the very fiber of my heart. Our future—all that we have on earth—it's more than I can bear—"
The daughter drew the dear face to her lips.
"But why try to take it all on our shoulders, dearest? We must leave
Papa to fight this out alone. We can't decide it for him."
The mother brushed her tears away and responded cheerfully.
"Yes, I know, dear. Your father didn't leave his room all day yesterday. He ate no dinner. No supper. All night the tramp of his feet overhead has only been broken when he fell on his knees to pray—"
Her voice wandered off as in a half dream. She paused, and then rushed on impetuously.
"Why, why can't we hear from Richmond? The Convention should have voted before noon yesterday. And we've waited all night—"
"The authorities may be holding back the news."