by Thomas Dixon
CHAPTER II
SWEETHEARTS
When the first shock of horror at her husband's peril passed, it left astrange new light in Mrs. Cameron's eyes.
The heritage of centuries of heroic blood from the martyrs of old Scotlandbegan to flash its inspiration from the past. Her heart beat with theunconscious life of men and women who had stood in the stocks, and walkedin chains to the stake with songs on their lips.
The threat against the life of Doctor Cameron had not only stirred hermartyr blood: it had roused the latent heroism of a beautiful girlhood. Toher he had ever been the lover and the undimmed hero of her girlishdreams. She spent whole hours locked in her room alone. Margaret knew thatshe was on her knees. She always came forth with shining face and withsoft words on her lips.
She struggled for two months in vain efforts to obtain a single interviewwith him, or to obtain a copy of the charges. Doctor Cameron had beenplaced in the old Capitol Prison, already crowded to the utmost. He was indelicate health, and so ill when she had left home he could not accompanyher to Richmond.
Not a written or spoken word was allowed to pass those prison doors. Shecould communicate with him only through the officers in charge. Everymessage from him was the same. "I love you always. Do not worry. Go homethe moment you can leave Ben. I fear the worst at Piedmont."
When he had sent this message, he would sit down and write the truth in alittle diary he kept:
"Another day of anguish. How long, O Lord? Just one touch of her hand, onelast pressure of her lips, and I am content. I have no desire to live--Iam tired."
The officers repeated the verbal messages, but they made no impression onMrs. Cameron. By a mental telepathy which had always linked her life withhis her soul had passed those prison bars. If he had written the pitifulrecord with a dagger's point on her heart, she could not have felt it morekeenly.
At times overwhelmed, she lay prostrate and sobbed in half-articulatecries. And then from the silence and mystery of the spirit world in whichshe felt the beat of the heart of Eternal Love would come again thestrange peace that passeth understanding. She would rise and go forth toher task with a smile.
In July she saw Mrs. Surratt taken from this old Capitol Prison to be hungwith Payne, Herold, and Atzerodt for complicity in the assassination. Themilitary commission before whom this farce of justice was enacted,suspicious of the testimony of the perjured wretches who had sworn herlife away, had filed a memorandum with their verdict asking the Presidentfor mercy.
President Johnson never saw this memorandum. It was secretly removed inthe War Department, and only replaced after he had signed the deathwarrant.
In vain Annie Surratt, the weeping daughter, flung herself on the steps ofthe White House on the fatal day, begging and praying to see thePresident. She could not believe they would allow her mother to bemurdered in the face of a recommendation of mercy. The fatal hour struckat last, and the girl left the White House with set eyes and blanchedface, muttering incoherent curses.
The Chief Magistrate sat within, unconscious of the hideous tragedy thatwas being enacted in his name. When he discovered the infamy by which hehad been made the executioner of an innocent woman, he made his firstdemand that Edwin M. Stanton resign from his cabinet as Secretary of War.And for the first time in the history of America, a cabinet officer waivedthe question of honour and refused to resign.
With a shudder and blush of shame, strong men saw that day the executionergather the ropes tightly three times around the dress of an innocentAmerican mother and bind her ankles with cords. She fainted and sankbackward upon the attendants, the poor limbs yielding at last to themortal terror of death. But they propped her up and sprung the fataltrap.
A feeling of uncertainty and horror crept over the city and the Nation, asrumours of the strange doings of the "Bureau of Military Justice," withits secret factory of testimony and powers of tampering with verdicts,began to find their way in whispered stories among the people.
Public opinion, however, had as yet no power of adjustment. It was an hourof lapse to tribal insanity. Things had gone wrong. The demand for ascapegoat, blind, savage, and unreasoning, had not spent itself. TheGovernment could do anything as yet, and the people would applaud.
Mrs. Cameron had tried in vain to gain a hearing before the President.Each time she was directed to apply to Mr. Stanton. She refused to attemptto see him, and again turned to Elsie for help. She had learned that thesame witnesses who had testified against Mrs. Surratt were being used toconvict Doctor Cameron, and her heart was sick with fear.
"Ask your father," she pleaded, "to write President Johnson a letter in mybehalf. Whatever his politics, he can't be _your_ father and not be goodat heart."
Elsie paled for a moment. It was the one request she had dreaded. Shethought of her father and Stanton with dread. How far he was supportingthe Secretary of War she could only vaguely guess. He rarely spoke ofpolitics to her, much as he loved her.
"I'll try, Mrs. Cameron," she faltered. "My father is in town to-day andtakes dinner with us before he leaves for Pennsylvania to-night. I'll goat once."
With fear, and yet boldly, she went straight home to present her request.She knew he was a man who never cherished small resentments, however crueland implacable might be his public policies. And yet she dreaded to put itto the test.
"Father, I've a very important request to make of you," she said gravely.
"Very well, my child, you need not be so solemn. What is it?"
"I've some friends in great distress--Mrs. Cameron, of South Carolina, andher daughter Margaret."
"Friends of yours?" he asked with an incredulous smile. "Where on earthdid you find them?"
"In the hospital, of course. Mrs. Cameron is not allowed to see herhusband, who has been here in jail for over two months. He cannot write toher, nor can he receive a letter from her. He is on trial for his life, isill and helpless, and is not allowed to know the charges against him,while hired witnesses and detectives have broken open his house, searchedhis papers, and are ransacking heaven and earth to convict him of a crimeof which he never dreamed. It's a shame. You don't approve of such things,I know?"
"What's the use of my expressing an opinion when you have already settledit?" he answered good-humouredly.
"You _don't_ approve of such injustice?"
"Certainly not, my child. Stanton's frantic efforts to hang a lot ofprominent Southern men for complicity in Booth's crime is sheer insanity.Nobody who has any sense believes them guilty. As a politician I usepopular clamour for my purposes, but I am not an idiot. When I go gunning,I never use a popgun or hunt small game."
"Then you will write the President a letter asking that they be allowed tosee Doctor Cameron?"
The old man frowned.
"Think, father, if you were in jail and friendless, and I were trying tosee you----"
"Tut, tut, my dear, it's not that I am unwilling--I was only thinking ofthe unconscious humour of _my_ making a request of the man who at presentaccidentally occupies the White House. Of all the men on earth, this alienfrom the province of Tennessee! But I'll do it for you. When did you everknow me to deny my help to a weak man or woman in distress?"
"Never, father. I was sure you would do it," she answered warmly.
He wrote the letter at once and handed it to her.
She bent and kissed him.
"I can't tell you how glad I am to know that you have no part in suchinjustice."
"You should not have believed me such a fool, but I'll forgive you for thekiss. Run now with this letter to your rebel friends, you little traitor!Wait a minute----"
He shuffled to his feet, placed his hand tenderly on her head, and stoopedand kissed the shining hair.
"I wonder if you know how I love you? How I've dreamed of your future? Imay not see you every day as I wish; I'm absorbed in great affairs. Butmore and more I think of you and Phil. I'll have a big surprise for youboth some day."
"Your love is all I ask," she answ
ered simply.
Within an hour, Mrs. Cameron found herself before the new President. Theletter had opened the door as by magic. She poured out her story withimpetuous eloquence while Mr. Johnson listened in uneasy silence. Hisruddy face, his hesitating manner, and restless eyes were in strikingcontrast to the conscious power of the tall dark man who had listened sotenderly and sympathetically to her story of Ben but a few weeks before.
The President asked:
"Have you seen Mr. Stanton?"
"I have seen him once," she cried with sudden passion. "It is enough. Ifthat man were God on His throne, I would swear allegiance to the devil andfight him!"
The President lifted his eyebrows and his lips twitched with a smile:
"I shouldn't say that your spirits are exactly drooping! I'd like to benear and hear you make that remark to the distinguished Secretary ofWar."
"Will you grant my prayer?" she pleaded.
"I will consider the matter," he promised evasively.
Mrs. Cameron's heart sank.
"Mr. President," she cried bitterly, "I have felt sure that I had but tosee you face to face and you could not deny me. Surely it is but justicethat he have the right to see his loved ones, to consult with counsel, toknow the charges against him, and defend his life when attacked in hispoverty and ruin by all the power of a mighty government? He is feeble andbroken in health and suffering from wounds received carrying the flag ofthe Union to victory in Mexico. Whatever his errors of judgment in thiswar, it is a shame that a Nation for which he once bared his breast inbattle should treat him as an outlaw without a trial."
"You must remember, madam," interrupted the President, "that these areextraordinary times, and that popular clamour, however unjust, will makeitself felt and must be heeded by those in power. I am sorry for you, andI trust it may be possible for me to grant your request."
"But I wish it now," she urged. "He sends me word I must go home. I can'tleave without seeing him. I will die first."
She drew closer and continued in throbbing tones:
"Mr. President, you are a native Carolinian--you are of Scotch Covenanterblood. You are of my own people of the great past, whose tears andsufferings are our common glory and birthright. Come, you must hear me--Iwill take no denial. Give me now the order to see my husband!"
The President hesitated, struggling with deep emotion, called hissecretary, and gave the order.
As she hurried away with Elsie, who insisted on accompanying her to thejail door, the girl said:
"Mrs. Cameron, I fear you are without money. You must let me help youuntil you can return it."
"You are the dearest little heart I've met in all the world, I thinksometimes," said the older woman, looking at her tenderly. "I wonder how Ican ever pay you for half you've done already."
"The doing of it has been its own reward," was the soft reply. "May I helpyou?"
"If I need it, yes. But I trust it will not be necessary. I still have alittle store of gold Doctor Cameron was wise enough to hoard during thewar. I brought half of it with me when I left home, and we buried therest. I hope to find it on my return. And if we can save the twenty balesof cotton we have hidden we shall be relieved of want."
"I'm ashamed of my country when I think of such ignoble methods as havebeen used against Doctor Cameron. My father is indignant, too."
The last sentence Elsie spoke with eager girlish pride.
"I am very grateful to your father for his letter. I am sorry he has leftthe city before I could meet and thank him personally. You must tell himfor me."
At the jail the order of the President was not honoured for three hours,and Mrs. Cameron paced the street in angry impatience at first and then indull despair.
"Do you think that man Stanton would dare defy the President?" she askedanxiously.
"No," said Elsie, "but he is delaying as long as possible as an act ofpetty tyranny."
At last the messenger arrived from the War Department permitting an orderof the Chief Magistrate of the nation, the Commander-in-Chief of its Armyand Navy, to be executed.
The grated door swung on its heavy hinges, and the wife and mother laysobbing in the arms of the lover of her youth.
For two hours they poured into each other's hearts the story of theirsorrows and struggles during the six fateful months that had passed. Whenshe would return from every theme back to his danger, he would laugh herfears to scorn.
"Nonsense, my dear, I'm as innocent as a babe. Mr. Davis was sufferingfrom erysipelas, and I kept him in my house that night to relieve hispain. It will all blow over. I'm happy now that I have seen you. Ben willbe up in a few days. You must return at once. You have no idea of the wildchaos at home. I left Jake in charge. I have implicit faith in him, butthere's no telling what may happen. I will not spend another moment inpeace until you go."
The proud old man spoke of his own danger with easy assurance. He wasabsolutely certain, since the day of Mrs. Surratt's execution, that hewould be railroaded to the gallows by the same methods. He had long lookedon the end with indifference, and had ceased to desire to live except tosee his loved ones again.
In vain she warned him of danger.
"My peril is nothing, my love," he answered quietly. "At home, the horrorsof a servile reign of terror have become a reality. These prison walls donot interest me. My heart is with our stricken people. You must go home.Our neighbour, Mr. Lenoir, is slowly dying. His wife will always be achild. Little Marion is older and more self-reliant. I feel as if they areour own children. There are so many who need us. They have always lookedto me for guidance and help. You can do more for them than any one else.My calling is to heal others. You have always helped me. Do now as I askyou."
At last she consented to leave for Piedmont on the following day, and hesmiled.
"Kiss Ben and Margaret for me and tell them that I'll be with them soon,"he said cheerily. He meant in the spirit, not the flesh. Not the faintesthope of life even flickered in his mind.
In the last farewell embrace a faint tremor of the soul, half sigh, halfgroan, escaped his lips, and he drew her again to his breast, whispering:
"Always my sweetheart, good, beautiful, brave, and true!"
