"Yes, but shall you vote for him? I presume you have always been a
Democrat, more or less—less of late."
"I shall vote for Fremont if he is nominated; not wholly a wise choice. I am tired of what seems like an endless effort North and South, to add more exasperations. It will go on and on. Each section seems to want to make the other angry."
"It is not Mrs. Penhallow's opinion, I fear. The wrongdoing is all on our side."
Said the Squire gravely, "That is a matter, Mark, we never now discuss—the one matter. Her brothers in Maryland, are at odds. One at least is bitter, as I gather from their letters."
"Well, after the election things will quiet down, as usual."
"They will not, Mark. I know the South. Unhappily they think we live by the creed of day-book and ledger. We as surely misunderstand them, and God alone knows what the future holds for us."
This was unusual talk for Penhallow. He thought much, but talked little, and his wife's resolute attitude of opinions held from youth was the one trouble of an unusually happy life.
"We can only hope for the best," said Rivers. "Time is a great peacemaker."
"Or not," returned his host as Rivers rose. "Just a word, Mark, before you go. I am desirous that you should not misunderstand me in regard to my politics. I see that slavery is to be more and more in question. My own creed is, 'let it alone, obey the laws, return the runaways,—oh! whether you like it or not,—but no more slave territory.' And for me, my friend, the States are one country and above all else, above slave questions, is that of an unbroken union. I shall vote for Fremont. I cannot go to party meetings and speak for him because, Mark, I am in doubt about the man, and because—oh! you know."
Yes, he knew more or less, but knowing did not quite approve. The Squire of Grey Pine rarely spoke at length, but now he longed, as he gave some further clue to his reticence, to make public a political creed which was not yet so fortified by the logic of events as to be fully capable of defence.