Harry thrilled more than once as the new President spoke on in calm, measured tones. He was glad to be present at the occurrence of great events, and he was glad to witness this gathering of the mighty.
The tide of youth flowed high in him, and he believed himself fortunate to have been at Charleston when the cannon met the Star of the West, and yet more fortunate to be now at Montgomery, when the head of the new nation was taking up his duties.
His gaze wandered for the first time from the men in the portico to the crowd without that rimmed them around. His eyes, without any particular purpose, passed from face to face in the front ranks, and then stopped, arrested by a countenance that he had little expected to see. It was the shadow, Shepard, standing there, and listening, and looking as intently as Harry himself. It was not an evil face, cut clearly and eager, but Harry was sorry that he had come. If Colonel Talbot's beliefs about him were true, this was a bad place for Shepard.
But his eyes went back to the new President and the men on the portico before him. The first scene in the first act of a great drama, a mighty tragedy, had begun, and every detail was of absorbing interest to him.
Shepard was forgotten in an instant.
Harry noticed that Mr. Davis never mentioned slavery, a subject which was uppermost in the minds of all, North and South, but he alluded to the possibility of war, and thought the new republic ought to have an army and navy. The concluding paragraph of his speech, delivered in measured but feeling tones, seemed very solemn and serious to Harry.
"It is joyous in the midst of perilous times," he said, "to look around upon a people united in heart, where one purpose of high resolve animates and actuates the whole; where the sacrifices to be made are not weighed in the balance against honor and right and liberty and equality.
Obstacles may retard, but they cannot long prevent the progress of a movement sanctified in justice and sustained by a virtuous people.
Reverently let us invoke the God of our fathers to guide and protect us in our efforts to perpetuate the principles which by his blessing they were able to vindicate, establish, and transmit to their posterity.
With the continuance of his favor ever gratefully acknowledged we may look hopefully forward to success, to peace and to prosperity."The final words were received with a mighty cheer which rose and swelled thrice, and again. Jefferson Davis stood calmly through it all, his face expressing no emotion. The thin lips were pressed together tightly. The points of his high collar touched his thick, close beard.
He wore a heavy black bow tie and his coat had broad braided lapels.
His hair was thick and slightly long, and his face, though thin, was full of vitality. It seemed to Harry that the grave, slightly narrowed eyes emitted at this moment a single flash of triumph or at least of fervor.
Mr. Davis was sworn in and Mr. Stephens after him, and when the shouting and applause sank for the last time, the great men withdrew into the hotel, and the troops marched away. The head of the new republic had been duly installed, and the separation from the old Union was complete.
The enthusiasm was tremendous, but Harry, like many others, had an underlying and faint but persistent feeling of sadness that came from the breaking of old ties. Nor had any news come telling that Kentucky was about to join her sister states of the South.
The Palmetto Guards marched back to their old camp, and Harry, Langdon, and St. Clair obtained leave of absence to visit the town. Youth had reasserted itself and Harry was again all excitement and elation.
It seemed to him at the moment that he was a boy no longer. The Tacitus lying peacefully in his desk was forgotten. He was a man in a man's great world, doing a man's great work.
But both he and his comrades had all the curiosity and zest of boys as they walked about the little city in the twilight, looking at everything of interest, visiting the Capitol, and then coming back to the Exchange Hotel, which sheltered for a night so many of their great men.
They stayed a while in the lobby of the hotel, which was packed so densely that Harry could scarcely breathe. Most of the men were of the tall, thin but extremely muscular type, either clean shaven or with short beards trimmed closely, and no mustaches. Black was the predominant color in clothing, and they talked with soft, drawling voices. But their talk was sanguine. Most of them asked what the North would do, but they believed that whatever she did do the South would go on her way. The smoke from the pipes and cigars grew thicker, and Harry, leaving his comrades in the crowd, walked out upon the portico.
The crisp, fresh air of the February night came like a heavenly tonic.
He remained there a little while, breathing it in, expanding his lungs, and rejoicing. Then he walked over to the exact spot upon which Jefferson Davis had stood, when he delivered his speech of acceptance.
He was so full of the scene that he shut his eyes and beheld it again.
He tried to imagine the feelings of a man at such a moment, knowing himself the chosen of millions, and feeling that all eyes were upon him.
Truly it would be enough to make the dullest heart leap.
He opened his eyes, and although he stood in darkness on the portico, he saw a dusky figure at the far edge of it, standing between two pillars, and looking in at one of the windows. The man, whoever he was, seemed to be intently watching those inside, and Harry saw at once that it was not a look of mere curiosity. It was the gaze of one who wished to understand as well as to know. He moved a little nearer. The figure dropped lightly to the ground and moved swiftly away. Then he saw that it was Shepard.
