The Trials of the Soldier's Wife

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXTH.

  THE RECOGNITION.

  As soon as the groom had prepared the buggy, he announced to Dr.Humphries that it was in readiness. Calling Harry, who was againseated by the side of his betrothed, indulging in secret conversation,the Doctor went into the street where the buggy was.

  "I will drive myself this morning, John," he remarked to the groom,"Mr. Harry will go with me."

  "Berry well, sah," replied the groom, moving off.

  Stepping into the buggy, followed by Harry, the Doctor took the reinsin his hands and was about to drive off.

  "Wait a moment," observed Harry, "has Elsy gone to the cabin?"

  "No, I forgot all about her," answered the Doctor, "and I am glad youreminded me."

  "You had better send for her at once, and give her orders to proceedimmediately to the cabin," said Harry, "for without her we would beunable to know whether the child is that of Alfred Wentworth or ofsome other unfortunate soldier."

  "Here, John!" called out Dr. Humphries after the retreating form ofthe groom, "come here to me."

  The boy turned back and returned to the side of the buggy.

  "Tell Elsy to come here at once," said the Doctor.

  The boy moved off to comply with his master's order, and in a fewmoments returned, accompanied by Elsy.

  "Do you go to the old woman's cabin," said Dr. Humphries, as soon asshe had reached the side of the buggy, "and wait there until I arrive.There is no necessity to mention what I am going there for."

  "Yes sah," replied Elsy, as she turned away to do her master'sbidding.

  "And now," remarked the Doctor, "we will go on and find out who thesepeople are. But before we go, I had better purchase a few things thatwill relieve the necessities of the child."

  With these words the Doctor drove off, and on arriving in front of astore, drew in the reins and, alighting, shortly after returned withseveral packages, which he placed in the buggy and, re-entering it, hedrove to the cabin of the old slave. On arriving there the Doctor andHarry found the old woman and the child seated in the room talking.The boy appeared quite contented, now that his grief at the loss ofhis sister and departure of his mother had subsided, and was laughingmerrily when they entered. He was dressed very cleanly and neatly bythe old slave, who had expended all her savings in purchasing suitablecloths for him, and his appearance excited the remark of the Doctorand his companion the moment they entered the threshold of the roomand saw him.

  "Good day sah," said the old negro, rising and curtseying as soon asthe two gentlemen entered.

  "God day, Auntie," said the doctor, "how are you getting on."

  "Berry well," answered the old woman, and then added, "I'm mighty gladyou come here dis day, for I want to talk wid you 'bout dis herechile."

  "I have heard all about him, Auntie," said the Doctor, "and have comehere expressly for the purpose of learning something about hisparents."

  "'Spose dat gal Elsy tell you," observed the old woman, snappishly,nettled because she had not the opportunity of telling her master thetale of Mrs. Wentworth and her children.

  "Yes, Auntie," he replied, "Elsy told me, but not before I had askedher all about those unfortunate people, so you must not be mad withher."

  "She might ha' waited till you see me befo' she say anyting about it,"remarked the old woman.

  "Never mind that, Auntie," replied the Doctor, who knew the oldwoman's jealous disposition and wanted to pacify her. "Has Elsy beenhere yet?"

  "No sah," she replied, "I aint seen her since mornin'."

  "She will be here directly, then," he remarked, and seating himselfthe Doctor waited the arrival of Elsy.

  "Come here my little man," said Harry, who had been sitting on the bedduring the dialogue between the old slave and her master.

  The child walked up to him and placed his arms on Harry's knees.

  "What is your name," enquired the young man, lifting the child up onhis knees.

  "My name is Alf," he replied.

  "Alf what?" asked Harry.

  The child looked at him enquiringly, not understanding the question.

  "What is your mother's name," continued Harry, perceiving that the boywas unable to answer his question.

  "My ma's name is Eva," he answered.

  "And your sister's?" asked Harry.

  "My sister is named Ella," replied the child, and then added,mournfully, "but she is gone from here; they took her out in a littlebox and put her in the ground, and Granny says she is gone to heaven;and my ma," he continued, "some bad men carried away, but Granny saysshe will soon come back--wont she?" and his innocent face looked upconfidingly in Harry's.

  "Yes, my boy," he answered, "your ma will soon come back to you."

  "There appears no doubt of the identity of this family," remarkedHarry to Dr. Humphries, after a short pause, "everything we have yetdiscovered indicates that Alfred Wentworth's wife and children havepassed a fearful life since their expulsion from New Orleans."

  "Poor woman and children," observed the Doctor, dashing away a tear,"could I have known their penury, I should have been only glad torelieve them, and even now, it is not too late for us to benefit thischild and his mother. As soon as Elsy arrives here I shall remove theboy to my house and visit the mother in jail."

  "I do not think it advisable to move the child until you havesucceeded in obtaining the release of Mrs. Wentworth," answered Harry."His father may chance to see him, and, under the circumstances, woulddiscover where his wife was; which discovery I desire to avoid as longas possible. The best thing that you can do is to leave the boy herefor twenty-four hours longer, by which time bail can be procured forhis mother, and I shall endeavor to silence the charge, so that theremay be no necessity for a trial."

  "May not Mr. Wentworth see the child and recognise him before we haveaccomplished his mother's release," enquired the Doctor.

  "I do not think it likely," he replied, "Alfred will not visit soremote a vicinity, and the child need not be carried into the businessportion of the city."

  "I shall leave him here, then, as you think it advisable," remarkedthe Doctor; "it cannot injure him to remain in this cabin for a daylonger, while it might lead to unpleasant discoveries should he beremoved."

  Harry and the old gentleman remained silent for some time, when Elsyentered the room. No sooner did the girl see the boy than sherecognized her master's child, and taking him in her arms caressed himwith all the exhibitions of affection the negro is capable of.

  "Dis am Mas Alfred own chile" she exclaimed to Harry and the oldgentleman, "and who would thought dat him would be libin' here."

  "I supposed it was your master's child, my good girl," observed theDoctor, and then added, as he rose from his seat, "you can stay herewith him until dark, when you had better return home; meanwhile, I donot wish you to let Mr. Wentworth know that his wife and child are inthis city, nor do I wish you to take him out of this cabin. ComeHarry," he continued, "let us go now and see the mother; she will beable to give us full details of her unfortunate life and to inform usof the cause for which she is in prison."

  Leaving the cabin, the two gentlemen re-entered the buggy and drove tothe Mayor's office. Finding him absent, they proceeded to hisresidence, and, after briefly narrating the tale of Mrs. Wentworth andher family, requested permission to visit her.

  "Certainly, my dear sirs," replied Mr. Manship, such being the name ofthe Mayor, "take a seat while I write you an order of admittance."

  In a few minutes the order to admit Dr. Humphries and his companion inthe female's ward of the prison was written. Returning thanks to theMayor, the two gentlemen started for the prison, and on showing thepermit, were ushered into the cell occupied by Mrs. Wentworth.

  "Good God!" exclaimed Harry, as he looked upon the squalid and haggardform of the broken hearted woman, "this surely cannot be the wife ofAlfred Wentworth."

  Mrs. Wentworth had paid no attention to the visitors when they firstentered, but on hearing her husband's
name pronounced, rose from hercrouching position and confronted the speaker. The name of the one sheloved had awoke the slumbering faculties of the woman, and, like aflash of electricity on a rod of steel, her waning reason flared upfor a moment.

  "You spoke my husband's name," she said in a hoarse tone, "what ofhim?"

  "He is my friend, madam," replied Harry, "and as such I have called tosee you, so that you may be removed from this place."

  "Thank you," she answered; "yours is the first voice of charity I havelistened to since I left New Orleans. But it is too late; I havenothing now to live for. Adversity has visited me until nothing butdisgrace and degradation is left of a woman who was once looked uponas a lady."

  "There is no necessity for despondency, my good madam," observed Dr.Humphries. "The misfortunes which have attended you are such as allwho were thrown in your situation are subject to. Our object in cominghere," he continued, "is to learn the true cause of your being in thiswretched place. Disguise nothing, but speak truthfully, for there aretimes when crimes in some become necessity in others."

  "My tale is briefly told," she answered. "Forced by the cruelty of avillain to leave my comfortable home in New Orleans, I sought refugein the Confederate lines. I anticipated that refugees would meet witha welcome from the more fortunate people of the South. In that I wasdisappointed; for when my means gave out, and every endeavor toprocure work to feed my children had failed--when I had not a dollarto purchase bread for my innocent babes, I applied for assistance.None but the most dire necessity would have prompted me to such astep, and, Oh, God! when it was refused--when the paltry pittance Iasked for was refused, the hope which I had clung so despairingly to,vanished, and I felt myself indeed a miserable woman. Piece afterpiece of furniture went, until all was gone--my clothing was nextsold to purchase bread. The miserable life I led, the hours spent withmy children around me crying for bread--the agonizing pangs which rentmy mother's heart when I felt I could not comply with theirdemand--all--all combined to make me an object of abject misery. Butwhy describe my sufferings? The balance of my tale is short. I wasforced out of the shelter I occupied because I could not pay the ownerhis rent. My oldest child was then ill, and in the bleak night wind,canopied by heaven alone, I was thrust, homeless, from a shelter ownedby a man whose wealth should have made him pause ere he performed suchan act. With my sick child in my arms I wandered, I knew not where,until I found she had fainted. Hurrying to a small cabin on the road,I entered and there discovered an old negro woman. From the lips of aslave I first heard words of kindness, and for the first time aid wasextended to me. Applying restoratives, my child revived and I waiteduntil next morning, when I returned once more to ask for aid. A paltrysum was handed to me, more for the sake of getting rid of themendicant than to relieve my distress. I felt that the sum offered wasinsufficient to supply the demands of my sick daughter and my starvingboy. I was turning in despair away when my eye lit upon a package ofmoney resting on the safe. For a moment I hesitated, but the thoughtof my children rose uppermost in my mind, and, seizing the package Ihurried from the store."

  "So you did take the money," said Harry.

  "Yes," she replied, "but it did me little good, for when the doctorwas called he pronounced my daughter beyond medical skill. She diedthat evening, and all the use to which the money was appropriated, wasthe purchase of a coffin."

  "Then the--the--" said Harry, hesitating to use the word theft, "then,it was not discovered that you had taken the money until your childwas dead and buried."

  "No," she said, "listen--my child lay enrobed in her garment of death,and the sun was fast declining in the west, when Mr. Swartz and twoconstables entered the room and arrested me. On my bended knees Iappealed to him not to tear me from the body of my child. Yes," shecontinued, excitedly, "I prayed to him in the most abject manner toleave me until my child was buried. My prayers were unavailing, andfrom the window of this cell I witnessed a lonely hearse pass by,followed by none other than my infant boy and the kind old negro. OhGod! Oh God!" she went on, bursting into tears and throwing herself onthe wretched pallet in the cell, "my cup of misery was then full, andI had drained it to the very dregs. I have nothing more to live fornow, and the few days longer I have to spend on earth can be passed aswell in a prison as in a mansion."

  "Not so," interrupted Dr. Humphries, "I trust you will live many, manyyears longer, to be a guardian to your child and a comfort to yourhusband."

  "It cannot be," she answered sadly. "The brain, overwrought, will soongive way to madness, and then a welcome death will spare me the lifeof a maniac. I do not speak idly," she continued, observing the lookthey cast upon her; "from the depths of my mind, a voice whispers thatmy troubles on earth will soon be o'er. I have one desire, however,and should like to see it granted."

  "Let me know what that is," remarked Dr. Humphries, "and if it lies inmy power it shall be accorded to you with pleasure."

  "Your companion spoke of my husband as his friend; does he know wherehe is at present, and if so, can I not see him?"

  "I promise that you shall see your husband before many days. Until youare removed from this place I do not think it advisable, but,"continued Harry, "I shall, on leaving this place, endeavor to secureyour release."

  Mrs. Wentworth made no answer, and, speaking a few words ofconsolation and hope to her, the two gentlemen left the prison. Thenext morning Harry called on the Mayor and asked if Mrs. Wentworthcould be bailed, but on his honor mentioning that her trial would comeoff the next day, the court having met that evening, he determined toawait the trial, confident that she would be acquitted when the factsof the case were made known to the jury. On the same day he met AlfredWentworth, who informed him that he was more strongly impressed thanever in the belief that the pretended Englishman was a spy.

  "I will inform you of a plan that will prove whether you are right ornot," observed Harry, when he had concluded. "Tomorrow at about threeo'clock in the evening persuade him to visit the Court House. I willbe present, and if he is really the spy you imagine, will have fullevidence against him."

  "What evidence?" enquired Alfred.

  "Never do you mind," he replied, "just bring him and there will beplenty of evidence found to convict him if he is a spy. By the way,"he continued, "you said you suspected him to be the same man whocaused your wife to be turned out of New Orleans?"

  "Yes," Alfred answered, "but why do you ask?"

  "Oh, nothing in particular," he replied, "only in the event his beingAwtry, you will have a double motive in finding out whether he is aspy or not."

  "You are right," observed Alfred, "but whether he is Awtry or not, Ishould deem it my duty to the Government to ferret out the true statusof that man, and to have him brought to justice if he is really a spy.Your request to carry him to the Court House is a strange one, and Iwill cheerfully comply with it, although I cannot see how his beingthere will enable us to make the discovery."

  "Leave that to me," answered Harry, "and content yourself withbelieving that I am certain it will prove whether he is an Englishmanor a Yankee."

  With that the two friends departed and Harry returned home muchperplexed at the manner he had arranged for the husband and wife tomeet.