ould have told him so had I been able to reach
him--though I dreaded to hurt him."

John drew her hands down and looked at her with a strange expression.

"He's beyond the reach of pain and disappointment now, dear----"

"Dead?" she gasped.

The man only nodded, and clung desperately to her hands while her head
sank in a flood of tears.

"We'll cherish his memory," he said in a curiously quiet voice, "as one
of the sweetest bonds between us, my love----"

"Yes--always!" was the low answer.

For the life of him John Vaughan couldn't tell the terrible fact that
his hand had struck him down. God alone should know that.

When she had recovered from the shock of the announcement Betty caressed
his hand gently:

"We just love whom we love, dearest, and we can't help it. I am yours
and you are mine. It's not a question of good or bad, right or wrong. We
love--that's all."

"Yes, we love--that's all and it's everything. There's no more doubt,
dear?"

"Not one," she cried. "I'm going to bring back the red blood to your
cheeks now and take that fevered look out of your eyes----"

The weeks of convalescence were swift and beautiful to Betty--her
ministry to his slightest whim a continuous joy. The only cloud in her
sky was the strange, feverish, unquiet look in his eyes. On the day of
his discharge he received a letter from his mother which deepened this
expression to the verge of mania.

"What is it, dear?" Betty asked in alarm.

"One of those unfortunate things that have been happening somewhere
every day for the past year--an arrest and imprisonment for treasonable
utterances----"

"Who has been arrested?"

"This time my father in Missouri."

"Your father?" she gasped.

"Yes. He has been a bitter critic of the war. He seems to have gone too
far. There was a riot of some sort in the village and he took the wrong
side."

There was an ominous quiet in the way he talked.

"I'll take you to see the President, dearest," she said soothingly.
"We'll ask for his release. It's sure to be granted."

John's eyes suddenly flashed.

"You think so?"

"Absolutely sure of it."

"We'll try it then," he said, with a cold ring in his voice that chilled
Betty's heart, and sent her home wondering at its meaning.

CHAPTER XXXV

THE DARKEST HOUR

In the summer of 1864 the President saw the darkest hours of his life.
The change in his appearance was startling and pitiful. His sombre eyes
seemed to have sunk