"We must let him eat something, Miss Winter," he whispered. "All night
the muffled sound of his footfall came from his room. I heard it at
nine, at ten, at eleven. At midnight Stanton left his door ajar and his
steady tramp, tramp, tramp, came with heavier sound. The last thing I
heard as I left at three was the muffled beat upstairs. The guard told
me it never stopped for a moment all night."

Betty was surprised to see his face illumined by a cheerful smile as she
entered. She gazed with awe into the deep eyes of the man whose single
word could stop the war and divide the Union. She wondered if he had
fought the Nation's battle alone with God through the night until his
prophetic vision had seen through cloud and darkness the dawn of a new
and more wonderful life.

She spoke softly:

"I've brought you a good mother who lost a son at Fredericksburg. She
has a message for you."

The tall form bent reverently and pressed her hand. A wonderful smile
transfigured his rugged face as he listened:

"God help you in your trials, Mr. President, as he has helped me in
mine----"

"And you lost your son at Fredericksburg?"

"Yes. It was long before I could feel reconciled. But I've been praying
for you day and night since----"

"For me?"

"You must be strong and courageous, and God will bring the Nation
through!"

"You say that to me, standing beside the grave of your son?"

"Yes, and beside the cot of my other boy who is here wounded from
Chancellorsville. I'm proud that God gave me such sons to lay on the
altar of my country. Remember, I am praying for you day and night!"

Both big hands closed over hers and he was silent a moment.

"It's all right then. I'll get new strength when I remember that such
mothers are praying for me."

He pressed Betty's hand at the door:

"Thank you, child. You bring medicine that reaches soul and body!"

The hour of despair had passed and the President returned to his task
patient, watchful, strong.

Daily the shadows deepened over the Nation's life. Blacker and denser
rose the clouds. Four Northern Generals had now gone down before Lee's
apparently invincible genius--McClellan, Pope, Burnside, and Hooker, and
with each fall the corpses of young men were piled higher.

Again the clamor rose for the return of McClellan to command. This cry
was not only heard in the crushed Army of the Potomac, it was backed by
the voice of two million Democrats who had chosen the man on ho