Mill raised his hand and smiled. “The war comes first, Mr. President. Put them aside for a quieter time. You will find that I and Francis Wayland are in agreement in many things. If you permit me, I can sum up my feelings and my theories most easily for you. Firstly, I have always supported your stance in this war since I recognize it as a struggle against slavery. But as an Englishman I have stood aside from this conflict feeling that I have no personal involvement. Now I feel that attitude has been wrong. I no longer can be a silent spectator. The invasion of your country by mine was a singularly wicked act and cannot be forgiven.”

“You will find none here to argue with that, I assure you.”

There was a quick knock on the door, then John Hay appeared holding a telegram and gravely concerned.

“Could I speak to you about… a highly sensitive matter, Mr. President.”

“I will wait outside,” Mill said, rising to his feet. “May we continue this conversation?”

“Of course.”

Hay waited until the door had closed before he passed over the telegram. “I don’t know what this is all about, sir, but if it is true it sounds a good deal better than the news from New York State.”

Lincoln took the message and read aloud. “ ‘A group of Confederate officers crossed our lines under cease-fire agreement at Yorktown. They are now proceeding under escort to Washington. Leading them is General Robert E. Lee.’ ”

The President lowered the paper and Hay realized that he had never seen such a look of complete amazement upon his features before. Lincoln was ever the courtroom lawyer, the railroad lawyer who kept his emotions to himself. People saw the expression on his face that he wanted them to see. But not this time.

“Do you have the slightest inkling or fragment of information as to what this is all about? No, I thought that you didn’t, and if the expression on your face is anything to go by you are as baffled as I am. Telegraph back to whoever sent this and ask for amplification. And you had better call the Cabinet together for an emergency meeting. This is… extraordinary. I’ll finish my conversation with Mr. Mill. Come and get me when the Cabinet has assembled.”

There was no making sense of the telegram. What was happening? And what about the mysterious communication from General Sherman? Was there a connection? So deep in thought was he that he was unaware that Mill had returned until a polite cough drew his attention.

Reseated, Mill got quickly to the point. “I have been thinking about your parting words to me as I left. About needing men who could fight, not men who could think…”

“I apologize if what I said disturbed you, since no insult was intended.”

“Indeed no, sir, quite the opposite if truth be known. But you do need men who think, to plot the course into a successful future. I mind you of another Englishman, and indeed another philosopher. Thomas Paine, who wrote and theorized and argued the case for your American Revolution. He knew that the reason men fight wars is as important as the fighting itself. It is said that small men bring about progress by standing on the shoulders of giants. Paine and your founding fathers were indeed giants, and perhaps by standing on their shoulders this country can bring about a Second American Revolution that will build a new kind of future. This war cannot last forever, but America must last, survive and grow. Yours must be the guiding hand that sees to that survival. The place of the Negroes in your society is now an ambivalent one. This must be changed. And I know the way to do it…”

Lincoln was listening so intently that he was startled when his secretary knocked discreetly on the door.

“Mr. Mill. It is imperative that I attend a singularly important Cabinet meeting now. But you must return and amplify your suggestions. I heartily agree with your attitudes, and have the hope that perhaps you may be of great aid to me in solving some of my most difficult political problems.”

The Cabinet meeting was a brief one.

“Without some more information,” Chase said, “we have no way of making a decision on the matter.”

“Perhaps they bring surrender terms?” Seward said hopefully.

“Hardly that,” Lincoln told him. “We have no reason to believe that they want to end this war, not in so sudden and uncharacteristic a manner. When you consider the occasion you must realize that they are better placed at this moment than they have been since the war began. Why, they can just sit back and let the British fight their war for them. Then strike when they think we are at our weakest. Surrender is the least possible reason for this meeting. We must discover their intentions. We will meet with them, and I suggest that we have our military advisers there as well — since their mission consists only of military officers, or so I have been informed.”

It had been deemed that the Cabinet Room would be too small for this meeting, not with the senior officers from the army and navy attending as well. They assembled in the newly decorated Blue Room, where Mary Lincoln had tea served to them while they waited. Hay stepped up quietly to the President’s side.

“The only additional information we could get is that General Lee insisted on talking to you in person.”

“Well he has my ear, he certainly does.”

It was dusk before the cavalrymen and the carriages rattled up to the front entrance of the White House. The waiting military men stood, almost at attention, while the cabinet members who had been seated rose to their feet. The doors opened and General Robert E. Lee, Commander-in-Chief of the Confederate Army, strode into the room. An erect military figure, gray-bearded and grim of expression; over six feet in height, almost as tall as the President. He was followed by a small group of gray-clad and somber officers. Lee took off his hat and stepped forward to face Abraham Lincoln.

“Mr. President, I bring you a message from Mr. Jefferson Davis, the President of the Confederacy.”

Lincoln’s expression was under control now and he just nodded, lips pursed with silent attention as Lee went on. He did not recognize the legitimacy of Jefferson Davis’s title, but saw no reason to mention that now.

“If you would permit it, Mr. Lincoln, due to the confidential nature of my communication, I would like to be able to deliver it to you in private.”

There was a troubled murmur from the listening men and Lincoln held his hand up until the room was silent again.

“Gentlemen,” he said sternly. “I am going to honor this request. I am sure that the Commander-in-Chief of the Confederate armies is an honorable man and means me no physical harm.”

“That is indeed correct, Mr. Lincoln. And I will leave my sword with my staff as some indication of my good will.” He did just that, taking the scabbarded sword from its slings and passing it over to the nearest Southern officer.

The onlookers hesitated, but then stepped back when Lincoln turned toward the door. They opened a path and made way for the tall form of the President and the stern, upright figure of the general. The two men proceeded slowly from the room and up the grand staircase, if not arm in arm at least shoulder-to-shoulder. They passed the wide-eyed clerk at his desk and entered Lincoln’s office. Lincoln closed the door and spoke.

“If you would be so kind as to be seated, General Lee. I am sure that it has been a tiring journey.”

“Thank you, sir.”

If it had been tiring Lee did not show it. He took off his gray field hat and placed it on an end table, then sat upright on the first few inches of his chair as Lincoln dropped into his.

“Your message, if you please, General Lee.”

“Might I ask first, sir, if you have you had any word of the recent events in Biloxi, Mississippi?”