now this April of 1860 business doubts, sectional feeling and
love of country seemed to intensify the interest with which all classes
looked forward to the Charleston Democratic Convention.

The Convention met on April 23rd. It was grave and able. There were daily
prayers in the churches of Charleston for the success of Southern
principles. Henry Grey, a delegate, wrote to his sister:

"The Douglas platform was adopted and at once the delegations of six
cotton States withdrew. We who cannot accept Douglas meet in Richmond. It
means secession unless the Republicans are reasonable when they nominate
in Chicago. Mr. Alexander Stephens predicts a civil war, which most men I
meet here consider very unlikely."

Ann handed this letter to her husband, saying, "This will interest you."

He read it twice, and then said, "There is at least one man in the South
who believes the North will fight--Stephens."

"But will it, James?" A predictive spectre of fear rose before her.

Slowly folding the letter he said, "Yes, the South does not know us." She
walked away.

On May 16th the Republicans met in Chicago. The news of the nomination of
Lincoln came to the Squire as riding from the mills he met Dr. McGregor
afoot.

"What, walking!" he said. "I never before saw you afoot--away from that
saint of a mare."

"Yes, my old mare got bit by something yesterday and kicked the gig to
smithereens, and lamed her off hind-leg."

"I will lend you a horse and a gig," said Penhallow.

"Thanks," said McGregor simply. "I am sweating through my coat."

"But don't leave my horse half a day tied to a post--any animal with
horse-sense would kick."

"As if I ever did--but when the ladies keep me waiting. Heard the good
news? No--We have nominated Lincoln--and Hamlin."

"I preferred Seward. You surprise me. What of the platform?"

"Oh, good! The Union, tariff, free soil. You will like it. The October
elections in Pennsylvania will tell us who will win--later you will have
to take an active part."

"No. Come up to-morrow and get that horse--No, I'll send it."

The Squire met Rivers on the avenue. As he walked beside the horse, he
said, "I am going to dine with you."

"That is always good, but be on your guard about politics at Grey Pine.
Lincoln is nominated."

"Thank God! What do you think of it, Squire?"

"I think with you. This is definite--no more wabbling. But rest assured,
it means, if he is elected, secession, and in the end wa