"O Death, where is thy sting! O grave, where is thy victory! Blessed are they that die in the Lord! Death is not the chill shadow of the night--but the grey light of the dawn--the dawn of a new eternal day. Lift up your eyes and see its beauty. Open your ears and hear the stir of its wondrous life!" When the last friend had gone, the forlorn little figure stood beside the grave alone. There was a wistful smile on his lips as he slowly whispered: "I'll not forget, Ma, dear--I'll not forget. I'll live for you." Nor did he forget. In her slender figure a new force had appeared in human history. The peasant woman of the old world has ever taught her child contentment with his lot. And patient millions beyond the seas bend their backs without a murmur to the task their fathers bore three thousand years ago. Free America has given the race a new peasant woman. Born among the lowliest of her kind, she walks earth's way with her feet in the dust, her head among the stars. This one died young in the cabin beside the deep woods, but not before her hand had kindled a fire of divine discontent in the soul of her son that only God could extinguish. _The Story_ CHAPTER I THE MAN OF THE HOUR "It's positively uncanny----" Betty Winter paused on the top step of the Capitol and gazed over the great silent crowd with a shiver. "The silence--yes," Ned Vaughan answered slowly. "I wondered if you had felt it, too." "It's more like a funeral than an Inauguration." The young reporter smiled: "If you believe General Scott there may be several funerals in Washington before the day's work is done." "And you _don't_ believe him?" the girl asked seriously. "Nonsense! All this feverish preparation for violence----" Betty laughed: "I'm afraid you're not a good judge of the needs of the incoming administration. As an avowed Secessionist--you're hardly in their confidence." "Thank God, I'm not." "What are those horses doing over there by the trees?" "Masked battery of artillery." "Don't be silly!" "It's true. Old Scott's going to save the Capital on Inauguration Day any how! The Avenue's lined with soldiers--sharpshooters posted in the windows along the whole route of the Inaugural procession, a company of troops in each end of the Capitol. He has built a wooden tunnel from the street into the north end of the building and that's lined with guards. A squad of fifty soldiers are under the platform where we're going to sit----" "No!" "Look through the cracks and see for yourself!" Vaughan cried with scorn. The sparkling brown eyes were focused on the board platform. "I do see them moving," she said slowly, as a look of deep seriousness swept the fair young face. "Perhaps General Scott's right after all. Father says we're walking on a volcano----" "But not that kind of a volcano, Miss Betty," Vaughan interrupted. "Senator Winter's an Abolitionist. He hates the South with every breath he breathes." Betty nodded: