WAR
between me and any one who calls himself a follower of Lincoln. But I don't mind telling you that I am living, breathing, hoping only for the South—and that I am going to do all I can to help her! All, all! She shall prevail! She shall conquer! For, there are a million like me at work for her! Do you think the North can defeat such a host as that? A million like me!"
"No," says Jon, fascinated like a bird by a snake, "no, not one like you! You are glorious! You are invincible—you alone! And your cause must be—to raise such a spirit in even one such woman! Though I've thought little enough about either side—to my shame. But, love—"
"You mean—you mean," whispers she, stooping and almost putting her arms around Jon, "that you might be—can be—are one of us? Speak!"
But poor old Jon was troubled at that. Think of the temptation! He took her hands to keep her near, but he said:
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