He had
caught the excitement in the quivering social structure of which he was
part. What he was really thinking down in the depths of his African soul
only God could see. His dark face merely grinned in quick obedience to
command.
From every house where these farewells were being said, a weeping woman
emerged and waved a last adieu to the tear-stained faces at the window.
Wagons and carts lumbered through the streets on their way to the wharf
or station, piled high with baggage.
Hotel-keepers stood in the doorway of their establishments with darkened
brows. The glory of the past was departing. The future was a blank.
On the morning after his farewell address to the Senate, a messenger,
who refused to give his name, was ushered into the library of Senator
Davis.
The stately black butler bowed again with quiet dignity.
"Yo' name, sah? I--failed to catch it?"
The messenger lifted his hand:
"No name. Please say to the Senator that I came from an important
official with a message of the gravest importance--I wish to see him
alone at once--"
The faithful servant eyed his visitor with an ominous look. There was no
question of his loyalty to the man he served.
"It's all right, Robert, I'm a friend of Senator Davis.
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