Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [67]
I smiled up at him in return. “I’ll take that chance.”
Charles looked at me for a long moment. He seemed to be drinking me in, the way a thirsty man gulps water. “Who did you come to this fund-raiser with tonight?” he asked at last.
“My father.”
“I’d like to meet him. I’d like to ask him if I may escort you home.”
My father was very pleased when Charles asked for permission to court me. “The St. Johns are one of Richmond’s finest families,” Daddy said proudly.
“Not to mention, one of the richest?” I teased.
“Well now, that never hurts, either. But let’s not forget what’s really important—”
“That I’m growing very fond of Charles?”
“No,” he said, laughing, “that he’s a good Southern Democrat.”
Charles and I went everywhere together that summer—to musical recitals and dinner parties, to the theater, and to countless political functions as the upcoming presidential election grew closer and closer. As my feelings for him deepened, so did the guilt I felt concerning Robert Hoffman—especially when Robert’s unanswered letters began to pile up on my desk.
I realized that my cousin Julia had been right; Robert believed he was in love with me. I’d continued writing to him regularly since returning to Richmond, but now that I was falling in love myself, I knew that it was unfair to string Robert along with false hopes. I sat down at my desk one day and wrote him a long, honest letter, gently explaining to him that we no longer had an “understanding.”
At the same time, I wrote to Aunt Martha, asking her to help cushion the news. I felt relieved, but a little worried, when Robert’s letters stopped immediately. I eventually received a very cool note from my aunt saying that she and Robert had talked, but she gave no indication of how he had received the news. My cousin Julia stopped mentioning him in her letters.
I had much bigger things to worry about that fall. The United States that I loved so much seemed on the brink of a terrible crisis. The race for president, like John Brown’s uprising, revealed a nation bitterly divided over slavery. The Democratic Party had split in two, with Northern Democrats nominating Senator Stephen Douglas of Illinois, and Southern Democrats nominating Kentucky’s Senator John Breckinridge. The Republicans chose a compromise candidate named Abraham Lincoln, who pledged to halt the spread of slavery in any states that joined the Union in the future but promised not to interfere with slavery in the states where it already existed. I thought Mr. Lincoln’s position was a fair compromise; Charles disagreed.
“Lincoln’s views are unacceptable,” he insisted. “Once our slave states are outnumbered in Congress, we will no longer have fair representation. The North could enact any laws they pleased.”
“Is that why South Carolina is threatening to secede if Mr. Lincoln is elected?”
“Yes, that’s exactly why. America broke away from Great Britain for the same reason—her interests were not being fairly represented.”
“Do you think it will come to that, Charles? Another revolution?”
“I pray not.”
But when Abraham Lincoln won the election—with only forty percent of the popular vote—Charles and I both felt a sense of dread. Not a single slaveholding state had voted for him.
Charles and I still disagreed over slavery, but we were able to discuss it without arguing now. He listened to my opinions, and that drew my heart to him. He admitted that slavery was unjust, and I admitted that abolishing it immediately would not only destroy the South’s economy but would leave millions of slaves unequipped to deal with their immediate freedom. Charles was kind and fair to his family’s slaves, even if the bonds of love that existed between Tessie and Eli and me were missing.
Tessie and I continued with our reading lessons in the afternoons, and she made excellent progress. Within six months, she could read simple stories and write down the sentences I dictated to her, even though her spelling was poor. She remained very fearful of being discovered, however,