Presently she felt him near.  She turned and looked through her tears at his face that was all compassion.  And now she was unashamed.  He had placed a chair behind her.

“Sit down, Virginia,” he said.  Even the name fell from him naturally.

She obeyed him then like a child.  He remained standing.

“Tell me about your cousin,” he said; “are you going to marry him?”

She hung an instant on her answer.  Would that save Clarence?  But in that moment she could not have spoken anything but the truth to save her soul.

“No, Mr. Lincoln,” she said; “I was—­but I did not love him.  I—­I think that was one reason why he was so reckless.”

Mr. Lincoln smiled.

“The officer who happened to see Colonel Colfax captured is now in Washington.  When your name was given to me, I sent for him.  Perhaps he is in the anteroom now.  I should like to tell you, first of all, that this officer defended your cousin and asked me to pardon him.”

“He defended him!  He asked you to pardon him!  Who is he?” she exclaimed.

Again Mr. Lincoln smiled.  He strode to the bell-cord, and spoke a few words to the usher who answered his ring.

The usher went out.  Then the door opened, and a young officer, spare, erect, came quickly into the room, and bowed respectfully to the President.  But Mr. Lincoln’s eyes were not on him.  They were on the girl.  He saw her head lifted, timidly.  He saw her lips part and the color come flooding into her face.  But she did not rise.

The President sighed But the light in her eyes was reflected in his own.  It has been truly said that Abraham Lincoln knew the human heart.

The officer still stood facing the President, the girl staring at his profile.  The door closed behind him.  “Major Brice,” said Mr. Lincoln, when you asked me to pardon Colonel Colfax, I believe that you told me he was inside his own skirmish lines when he was captured.”

“Yes, sir, he was.”

Suddenly Stephen turned, as if impelled by the President’s gaze, and so his eyes met Virginia’s.  He forgot time and place,—­for the while even this man whom he revered above all men.  He saw her hand tighten on the arm of her chair.  He took a step toward her, and stopped.  Mr. Lincoln was speaking again.

“He put in a plea, a lawyer’s plea, wholly unworthy of him, Miss Virginia.  He asked me to let your cousin off on a technicality.  What do you think of that?”

“Oh!” said Virginia.  Just the exclamation escaped her—­nothing more.  The crimson that had betrayed her deepened on her cheeks.  Slowly the eyes she had yielded to Stephen came back again and rested on the President.  And now her wonder was that an ugly man could be so beautiful.

“I wish it understood, Mr. Lawyer,” the President continued, “that I am not letting off Colonel Colfax on a technicality.  I am sparing his life,” he said slowly, “because the time for which we have been waiting and longing for four years is now at hand—­the time to be merciful.  Let us all thank God for it.”