tall dark man who had listened so tenderly and sympathetically to her story of Ben but a few weeks before.
The President asked:
"Have you seen Mr. Stanton?"
"I have seen him once," she cried with sudden passion. "It is enough. If that man were God on His throne, I would swear allegiance to the Devil and fight him!"
The President lifted his eyebrows and his lips twitched with a smile:
"I shouldn't say that your spirits are exactly drooping! I'd like to be near and hear you make that remark to the distinguished Secretary of War."
"Will you grant my prayer?" she pleaded.
"I will consider the matter," he promised, evasively.
Mrs. Cameron's heart sank.
"Mr. President," she cried, bitterly, "I have felt sure that I had but to see you face to face and you could not deny me. Surely, it is but justice that he have the right to see his loved ones, to consult with counsel, to know the charges against him, and defend his life when attacked in his poverty and ruin by all the power of a mighty government? He is feeble and broken in health and suffering from wounds received carrying the flag of the Union to victory in Mexico. Whatever his errors of judgment in this war, it is a shame that a Nation for which he once bared his breast in battle should treat him as an outlaw without a trial."
"You must remember, Madam," interrupted the President, "that these are extraordinary times, and that popular clamour, however unjust, will make itself felt
