"You will let me, Mr. President," pleaded Goddard vehemently. "I am blind—helpless—my life will be no loss—I have served my country—while she——" Nancy clung to him in sudden terror. "I give you my word Nancy will henceforth be loyal to our Government."
"Seems to me you are promising a good deal," said Lincoln, dryly.
"You will let me?"—eagerly.
"Die in her stead? No."
"And you are right," declared Nancy, as Goddard stooped over her to hide his bitter disappointment. "I will not accept such a sacrifice."
"'Greater love hath no man,'" quoted Lincoln softly. "You have warm friends, Nancy. Doctor Boyd was with me at noon. He told me that your father on his death-bed made you swear that you would do your utmost to assist the Confederacy. Is that so?"
"Yes." Nancy raised her head bravely and met unflinchingly the gaze of the saddest eyes she had ever seen in human head. "But it was not only that, Mr. President. Like all loyal Virginians, I loved and believed in the Cause."
"As I believe in my Cause, Nancy. Suppose we leave Cause and effect to our Maker; He knows and will not judge our errors harshly, for God is love. The fighting is practically over. Dear child, are you willing to trust to me to heal the war-hurt, and to accept the protection of the flag again, the flag your forefathers died for?"
"Yes," said Nancy, brokenly. It hurt most cruelly to renounce her Cause; and Lincoln, ever quick to detect suffering, spoke to Goddard in an undertone as Nancy walked to the window to regain some hold on her composure.
"Ah, Nancy," he said, as she returned; "I was not surprised to hear Symonds did not recognize your writing. He did not know you were ambidextrous." An exclamation escaped Nancy. "You forget you once showed Tad that you have that gift—so your right hand did not know what your left one wrote." Lincoln laughed gently; then rose. "I left my wife in the carriage and I must not keep her waiting too long, as we are going to Ford's Theater to see 'Our American Cousin.'