The tearful face looked up, "And you do forgive me?" "Forgive! There is no need for any such word in the dictionary of love." Between half-hysterical laughter and ready tears, she gasped, "Where did you get that prettiness?"
"Read it in a book, you goosey. Go to bed."
"No, not yet. This crime or craze will make mischief?"
"Yes, Ann, out of all proportion to the thing. The South will be in a frenzy, and the North filled with regret and horror. Now go to bed—we have behaved like naughty children."
"Oh, James, must I be put in a corner?"
"Yes—of my heart. Now, good night."
November passed. The man who had sinned was fairly tried, and on December 2nd went to a well-deserved death. Penhallow refused to talk of him to Rivers, who praised the courage of his last hours.
"Mark," he said, "have been twice or thrice sure I was to die—and I have seen two murderers hanged, and I do assure you that neither they nor I were visibly disturbed. The fact is, when a fellow is sure to be put to death, he is either dramatic—as this madman was—or quietly undemonstrative. Martyr! Nonsense! It was simply stupid. I don't want to talk about it. Those mischief-makers in Congress will howl over it." They did, and secession was ever in the air.
CHAPTER XVIII
The figure of Lincoln had been set on the by-ways of State politics by his debate with Douglas. His address in New York in February of 1860 set him on the highways of the nation's life. Meanwhile there were no talks about politics at Grey Pine. The Christmas Season had again gone by with unwonted economies.