The President seemed to tower up to a greater height than even his former gigantic altitude. He threw both arms out in a sudden passion: "Forget your love! Forget your native State! Forget _yourself!_ Forget _everything_ except that this Union must and shall be saved, and that _you_ can hasten the end of this awful carnage!" The storm had swept over. He lowered his voice again, and with both hands on the preacher's shoulders: "I will agree to this. When you have gone so far that you can come back here to me and say, 'I _know_ now that I have done enough. My conscience is clear. My whole duty is done.' When you can come back here and say that to me--when you can say (if you and I had changed places) that you could ask no more of me--then I will agree to ask no more of you." Then, suddenly, "When will you start? To-night?"
"Yes," said Griffith, almost inaudibly, and sank into a chair.
Mr. Lincoln strode to the table and pushed aside the disfigured map. "I will write your instructions and make necessary plans," he said. "There is not much to do. The General and the engineer corps are ready. I hoped and believed you would go." His pen flew over the paper. Then he paused and looked at his visitor. "We must fix your rank. Will you volunteer, or shall I----?"
"Is that necessary, Mr. Lincoln? I am a preacher, you know. I---- Can't I go just as I am--just--as----?"
The President had turned again to the table, and was writing. Griffith stepped to his side.
"Do you realize, Mr. Lincoln, that every man, woman and child in that whole country will recognize me--and--?"
"Yes, yes, I know, I know. We must do everything we can to protect you from all danger--against assassination or----"
"It is not _that_," said Griffith, hoarsely. "Do you care nothing for the good-will--for the confidence--of your old neighbors hack in Illinois?"
"Do I care for it?" There was a long pause. The sunken eyes were drawn to a mere line. "I'd rather lose anything else in this world. It is meat and drink to me. I----"
"Look here, Mr. Davenport; don't make the mistake of thinking that I don't realize what I'm asking you to do--that I don't see the sacrifice. I do. I do, fully, and I want to do everything I can to--to make it up to you. I know you used to be greatly trusted and beloved down there. Morton has told me. He told me all about the pathos of that old negro following you, too, and how you made out to keep her. I know, I know it all, and I wouldn't ask you if I knew how to avoid it. I tell you that I'd rather give up everything else in this world than the good-will of those old friends of mine back there in Illinois; but if I had to give up the respect and confidence and love of every one of them, or forfeit that of Abraham Lincoln, who has sworn' to sustain this Union, I'd have to stick to old Abe! It would go hard with me--harder than anything I know of--but it would have to be done. We have _got_ to sustain this Union! We'll save her with slavery at the South and with friends to ourselves, if we can; but, by the Eternal I we'll save her anyhow!"