"It was a mad impulse, in my defense as well as his own."
"Impulse, yes! But back of it lay banked the fires of cruelty and race hatred! The Nation can not live with such barbarism rotting its heart out."
"But this is war, sir,—a war of races, and this an accident of war—besides, his life had been attempted by them twice before."
"So I've heard, and yet the Negro always happens to be the victim"
Margaret leaped to her feet and glared at the old man for a moment in uncontrollable anger.
"Are you a fiend?" she fairly shrieked.
Old Stoneman merely pursed his lips.
The girl came a step closer, and extended her hand again in mute appeal.
"No, I was foolish. You are not cruel. I have heard of a hundred acts of charity you have done among our poor. Come, this is horrible! It is impossible! You can not consent to the death of your son"
Stoneman looked up sharply:
"Thank God, he hasn't married my daughter yet"
"Your daughter!" gasped Margaret. "I've told you it was Phil who killed the negro! He took Ben's place just before the guards were exchanged"
"Phil!—Phil?" shrieked the old man, staggering to his club foot and stumbling toward Margaret with dilated eyes and whitening face; "My boy—Phil?—why—why, are you crazy?—Phil? Did you say—Phil?"
"Yes. Ben persuaded him to go to Charlotte until
