Into the Long Dark Night by Michael Phillips

Author:Michael Phillips
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Fiction;FIC042030;FIC042000;FIC026000
ISBN: 9781493413485
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2017-12-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

The President

The moment I stepped into the room where Mr. Lincoln was waiting, a great sense of awe came over me.

He was tall and thin, his face tired and his voice soft. Everything about him, from his black suit to the familiar beard, was exactly like the pictures I’d seen. And yet no picture could capture the aura of what it was like to be in the presence of a man of such stature and dignity.

His secretary introduced me.

The President came forward slowly, then extended his hand. I shook it, trying not to act as timid as I felt. At the touch of his grip, a thrilling surge of thrill passed through me. All over again it hit me—this is the President of the United States. This is Abraham Lincoln himself!

“Miss Hollister,” he said softly. “I am so pleased to finally meet you, and pleased that you wanted to make the long trip here to Washington.”

I swallowed and tried to say something, but couldn’t get anything out!

“As I told you in my letter,” he went on, “I’m most appreciative of how you helped with my election, and with raising money on behalf of the Union and the Sanitary Fund. It is important work they do, especially now with so many wounded, and of course they need money to continue their humanitarian operations. It is people such as you that the country has to thank for allowing such a work to continue. So when I tell you thank you, it is from the bottom of my heart.”

It was clear he really meant what he said. I was humbled for him to speak so graciously to me, but at last I managed to find my own tongue.

“I . . . I saw some of the Sanitary Commission’s people at Gettysburg,” I said. My voice sounded so small! I felt like a tiny little fly in the presence of the President.

“Yes, I did hear from one of our guards, through Mr. Hay, that you were at Gettysburg. I would like to know more about it. Surely you weren’t near the actual fighting?” As he spoke, Mr. Lincoln took a chair, motioning me to sit down opposite him. I did so.

“It was dreadful,” I said.

“The fighting itself?” he said. “Were you near enough to actually see what was going on?”

“Oh yes . . . everything about it was terrible! And yes, we were very close.”

“We?”

“I was with some Catholic nuns. We were helping the wounded however we could. Although with as much dying as there was, our efforts didn’t seem to amount to much.”

He asked how we came to be there, and I told him the whole story.

Mr. Lincoln listened quietly and patiently, and, it seemed, with great interest and thoughtfulness, asking me a question now and then, but mostly just letting me tell him about everything. I almost forgot where I was, and who he was! When I stopped, he was quiet for a minute, just thinking about what he’d heard. At

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