The North and South Trilogy: North and South, Love and War, and Heaven and Hell
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This “entertaining [and] authentic dramatization” (The New York Times) is a thrilling tale of shifting loyalties, set during one of the darkest moments in American history.
you know.” He felt as if she had shone a great light down into a pit within him, a pit where he hid thoughts and feelings of which he was ashamed. Her perception angered him. But, as always, he could never be angry with her for long. Perhaps—the insight came suddenly—perhaps love existed in its truest, deepest form when one partner saw into the soul of the other and never shrank from what was discovered there. He managed a weary laugh. “I reckon you’ve found my secret. Hard work and these
profession in the traditional sense, no office, no visible source of income, though he’d lived in the city twenty-five years. The only term to describe his circumstances during the last sixteen was opulent. Reporters new to Washington—young men, usually, and long on nerve, short on wisdom—sometimes described him as a lobbyist. The totally foolhardy substituted the words influence peddler. Elkanah Bent didn’t know a great deal about Starkwether’s affairs, but he did know that calling the man a
does. That is an observation, not an excuse for inaction. We cannot avoid the inescapable, George. West Point is at war.” He plucked the cigar from his mouth. “What’s that, sir?” “At war. Those of us who love the place must campaign as if the enemy has formidable leadership—which it does—” He whacked Greeley’s newspaper. “We must fight with intelligence, zeal, our whole soul—and never admit to even the remotest possibility of defeat. We shall not cower. We shall not wait passively to have our
catch up, either. You plow an acre, ten minutes later a battery of artillery gallops across it, and you start over.” “The superstitious boys say our luck’s turned bad. Sharpsburg might have been a victory instead of a stand-off if the Yankees hadn’t found those cigars wrapped in a copy of Lee’s order. Courage doesn’t count for much against bad luck—or the numbers the other side can muster.” But Cooper had spoken of the numbers long ago, hadn’t he? Warned of them. Charles shivered in the dark.
absolutely powerless. That’s the strangest part.” “No, it isn’t. I understand perfectly.” George knew Orry had said something, but he was too excited to hear the words, or the note of melancholy in his friend’s voice. A distant whistle sounded the last call for the lighter. George shook Patrick Flynn’s hand. “Good-bye, sir. You’ve been wonderful to a stranger.” “You’re no longer a stranger, lad,” the lawyer said with a swift glance at his daughter. Constance had put on a light shawl and was