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Dixon, Thomas, 1864-1946

"The Victim A romance of the Real Jefferson Davis"

All he could
get out of the supreme emblem of the "Rebellion" was that it was her
Capitol and _her_ flag and he loved her.
And then he laughed for sheer joy that love had come into his heart and
made the world beautiful. He surrendered himself body and soul to the
madness and wonder of it all.
If he could only see his mother and tell her, she could understand. He
couldn't talk to the bundle of nerves Miss Van Lew had become. Her eyes
burned each day with a deeper and deeper light of fanatical patriotism.
He had yielded none of his own enthusiasm. But this secret of his heart
was too sweet to be shared by a comrade in arms.
Only God's eye, or the soul of the mother who bore him, could understand
what he felt. The realization of his love for Jennie brought a new fear
into his heart. His nerve was put daily to supreme test in the dangerous
work in which he was engaged. A single mistake would start an
investigation sure to end with a rope around his neck. Love had given
life a new meaning. The chatter of the squirrels in the Capitol Square
was all about their homes and babies in the tree tops. The song of
birds in the old flower garden on Church Hill made his heart thump with
a joy that was agony. The flowers were just bursting into full bloom and
their perfume filled the air with the lazy dreaming of the southern
spring.


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