The Southerner: A Romance of the Real Lincoln
9781465670403
213 pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
Ned Vaughan looked at her timidly. For the life of him he couldn't make her out. Was she laughing at him? He half suspected it, and yet there was something sweet and appealing in the way she gazed into his eyes. He gave it up and changed the subject. He had promised to bring John to-day and introduce him. He had been prattling like a fool about this older brother. He wished to God now something would keep him. The pangs of jealousy had already began to gnaw at the thought of her hand resting in his. From the way Betty Winter had laughed she was quite capable of flying two strings to her bow. And with all the keener interest because they happened to be brothers. Why had she asked him so pointedly about John? He had excited her curiosity, of course, by his silly brother—hero-worship. He had told her of his brilliant career in New York under Horace Greeley on the Tribune—of Greeley's personal interest, and the flattering letter he had written to Colonel Forney, which had made him the city editor of the New Party organ in Washington—of his cool heroism the night the mob had attacked the Republican office—and last he had hinted of an affair over a woman in New York that had led to a challenge and a bloodless duel—bloodless because his opponent failed to appear. It was his own fault, of course, if Betty was keeping him at arm's length to-day. No girl could fail to be interested in such a man—no matter who her father might be—Puritan or Cavalier. His arm trembled in spite of his effort at self-control as he led her down the stately steps of the eastern façade toward the Inaugural platform. He paused on the edge of the boards and pointed to the huge bronze figure of the statue of Liberty which had been cast to crown the dome of the Capitol. It lay prostrate in the mud and the crowds were climbing over it. "I wonder if Miss Liberty will ever be lifted to her place on high?" he said amusingly. "If they do finish the dome," Betty replied, "and crown it with that bronze, my father should sue for damages. One of his most eloquent figures of speech will be ruined. That prostrate work of art lying in the mud has given thousands of votes to the Republicans. I've caught myself crying over his eloquence at times myself."
