United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
"This house--this place made me think of it. It was Dorothy Manners's
gown, and her necklace. I could not leave them. They were all the
remembrance I had of that night at Mr. Brinsmade's gate, when we came so
near to each other."
"Virginia," he said, "some force that we cannot understand has brought us
together, some force that we could not hinder. It is foolish for me to
say so, but on that day of the slave auction, when I first saw you, I had
a premonition about you that I have never admitted until now, even to
myself."
She started.
"Why, Stephen," she cried, "I felt the same way!"
"And then," he continued quickly, "it was strange that I should have gone
to Judge Whipple, who was an intimate of your father's--such a singular
intimate. And then came your party, and Glencoe, and that curious
incident at the Fair."
"When I was talking to the Prince, and looked up and saw you among all
those people."
He laughed.
"That was the most uncomfortable of all, for me."
"Stephen," she said, stirring the leaves at her feet, "you might have
taken me in your arms the night Judge Whipple died--if you had wanted to.
But you were strong enough to resist. I love you all the more for that."
Again she said:-- "It was through your mother, dearest, that we were most
strongly drawn together. I worshipped her from the day I saw her in the
hospital. I believe that was the beginning of my charity toward the
North."
"My mother would have chosen you above all women, Virginia," he answered.
In the morning came to them the news of Abraham Lincoln's death. And the
same thought was in both their hearts, who had known him as it was given
to few to know him. How he had lived in sorrow; how he had died a martyr
on the very day of Christ's death upon the cross. And they believed that
Abraham Lincoln gave his life for his country even as Christ gave his for
the world.
And so must we believe that God has reserved for this Nation a destiny
high upon the earth.
Many years afterward Stephen Brice read again to his wife those sublime
closing words of the second inaugural:--
"With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the
right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish
the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him
who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his children
--to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace
among ourselves and with all nations."
AFTERWORD
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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