Part 93 (1/2)

”Come right in, Miss Jinny, Done heerd de General speak of you often--yas'm. De General'll be to home dis a'ternoon, suah. 'Twill do him good ter see you, Miss Jinny. He's been mighty lonesome. Walk right in, Cap'n, and make yo'selves at home. Lizbeth--Lizbeth!”

A yellow maid came running down the stairs. ”Heah's Miss Jinny.”

”Lan' of goodness!” cried Lizbeth. ”I knows Miss Jinny. Done seed her at Calve't House. How is you, Miss Jinny?”

”Very well, Lizbeth,” said Virginia, listlessly sitting down on the hall sofa. ”Can you give us some breakfast?”

”Yas'm,” said Lizbeth, ”jes' reckon we kin.” She ushered them into a walnut dining room, big and high and sombre, with plush-bottomed chairs placed about--walnut also; for that was the fas.h.i.+on in those days.

But the Captain had no sooner seated himself than he shot up again and started out.

”Where are you going, Lige?”

”To pay off the carriage driver,” he said.

”Let him wait,” said Virginia. ”I'm going to the White House in a little while.”

”What--what for?” he gasped.

”To see your Black Republican President,” she replied, with alarming calmness.

”Now, Jinny,” he cried, in excited appeal, ”don't go doin' any such fool trick as that. Your Uncle Dan'l will be here this afternoon. He knows the President. And then the thing'll be fixed all right, and no mistake.”

Her reply was in the same tone--almost a monotone--which she had used for three days. It made the Captain very uneasy, for he knew when she spoke in that way that her will was in it.

”And to lose that time,” she answered, ”may be to have him shot.”

”But you can't get to the President without credentials,” he objected.

”What,” she flashed, ”hasn't any one a right to see the President? You mean to say that he will not see a woman in trouble? Then all these pretty stories I hear of him are false. They are made up by the Yankees.”

Poor Captain Lige! He had some notion of the mult.i.tude of calls upon Mr.

Lincoln, especially at that time. But he could not, he dared not, remind her of the princ.i.p.al reason for this,--Lee's surrender and the approaching end of the war. And then the Captain had never seen Mr.

Lincoln. In the distant valley of the Mississippi he had only heard of the President very conflicting things. He had heard him criticised and reviled and praised, just as is every man who goes to the White House, be he saint or sinner. And, during an administration, no man at a distance may come at a President's true character and worth. The Captain had seen Lincoln caricatured vilely. And again he had read and heard the pleasant anecdotes of which Virginia had spoken, until he did not know what to believe.

As for Virginia, he knew her partisans.h.i.+p to, and undying love for, the South; he knew the cla.s.s prejudice which was bound to a.s.sert itself, and he had seen enough in the girl's demeanor to fear that she was going to demand rather than implore. She did not come of a race that was wont to bend the knee.

”Well, well,” he said despairingly, ”you must eat some breakfast first, Jinny.”

She waited with an ominous calmness until it was brought in, and then she took a part of a roll and some coffee.

”This won't do,” exclaimed the Captain. ”Why, why, that won't get you halfway to Mr. Lincoln.”

She shook her head, half smiling.

”You must eat enough, Lige,” she said.

He was finished in an incredibly short time, and amid the protestations of Lizbeth and the yellow butler they got into the carriage again, and splashed and rattled toward the White House. Once Virginia glanced out, and catching sight of the bedraggled flags on the houses in honor of Lee's surrender, a look of pain crossed her face. The Captain could not repress a note of warning.

”Jinny,” said he, ”I have an idea that you'll find the President a good deal of a man. Now if you're allowed to see him, don't get him mad, Jinny, whatever you do.”