His thin fate went death white. Handing the telegram to
his Secretary, he quietly said:
"I am sorry. We have lost our noblest and best friend in the court of
the enemy."
He immediately telegraphed the news to his wife who had fled further
south to Abbeville, South Carolina. Mrs. Davis burst into tears on
reading the fatal message. Her woman's intuition saw the vision of
horror which the tragedy meant to her and to her stricken people.
The President left Charlotte with an escort of a thousand cavalrymen for
Abbeville. His journey was slow. The wagons were carrying all that
remained of the Confederate Treasury with the money in currency from the
Richmond banks which had been entrusted to the care of the Secretary of
the Treasury.
Davis stopped at a little cabin on the roadside and asked the lady who
stood in the doorway for a drink of water.
She turned to comply with his request.
While he was drinking a baby barely able to walk crawled down the steps
and toddled to him.
The mother smiled.
"Is this not President Davis?" she asked tremblingly.
"It is, Madam," he answered with a bow.
She pointed proudly to the child:
"He's named for you!"
The President drew a gold coin from his pocket and handed it to the
mother.
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