"You say that to me, standing beside the grave of your son?"
"Yes, and beside the cot of my other boy who is here wounded from Chancellorsville. I'm proud that God gave me such sons to lay on the altar of my country. Remember, I am praying for you day and night!"
Both big hands closed over hers and he was silent a moment.
"It's all right then. I'll get new strength when I remember that such mothers are praying for me."
He pressed Betty's hand at the door:
"Thank you, child. You bring medicine that reaches soul and body!"
The hour of despair had passed and the President returned to his task patient, watchful, strong.
Daily the shadows deepened over the Nation's life. Blacker and denser rose the clouds. Four Northern Generals had now gone down before Lee's apparently invincible genius—McClellan, Pope, Burnside, and Hooker, and with each fall the corpses of young men were piled higher.
Again the clamor rose for the return of McClellan to command. This cry was not only heard in the crushed Army of the Potomac, it was backed by the voice of two million Democrats who had chosen the man on horseback as their leader.
It was for precisely this reason that McClellan could not be considered again for command. His party had fallen under the complete control of its Copperhead leaders who demanded the ending of the war at once and at any sacrifice of principle or of the Union.