"Don't omit his next sentence, sir—'nor is it less certain, that the two races, equally free, cannot live under the same government—'"
"Exactly," Lee answered solemnly. "And that is the only reason why I have ever allowed myself to own a slave for a moment—the insoluble problem of what to do with him when freed. The one excuse for Slavery which the South can plead without fear before the judgment bar of God is the blacker problem which their emancipation will create. Unless it can be brought about in a miracle of patience, wisdom and prayer."
He paused and smiled at Ruffin's forlorn expression.
"Will you call your reporter now to take my views?"
"No, sir," the planter growled. "I've changed my mind."
The Colonel laughed softly.
"I thought you might."
Ruffin gazed in silence through the window at the blinking lights in Washington, turned and looked moodily at his calm host. He spoke in a slow, dreamy monotone, his eyes on space seeing nothing:
"Colonel Lee, this country is hell bent and hell bound. I can see no hope for it."
Lee lifted his head with firm faith.