CHAPTER SEVENTH.
THE HUSBAND A PRISONER--EXILE OF THE SOLDIER'S WIFE.
Months rolled on, during which time Mrs. Wentworth was cheered by manykind and affectionate letters from her husband, who had not been sicka day since his departure from home. One of the letters received fromhim stated that he had been detailed from his regiment to act as clerkin Brigadier General Floyd's adjutant general's office, his superiorintelligence fitting him admirably for such an office; and the nextletter from him was dated at Fort Donelson, whence General Floyd hadbeen ordered with his brigade.
Fort Donelson fell. We need not record here the heroic defense andstubborn fighting of the Confederate forces, and their unfortunatecapture afterwards. These are matters of history, and should berecorded by the historian, and not the novelist. Sufficient to say,that in the last day's fight Alfred Wentworth, having received asevere wound in the arm, was marching to the rear, when an officer,dressed in the garb of a lieutenant, who was lying on the field,called faintly to him, and on his going up, he observed that thelieutenant's left leg was fearfully mangled by a fragment of shell,and was bleeding so profusely, that, unless medical aid was quicklyprocured, he would die. Forgetting his own wound, which was verypainful, he lifted the officer on his shoulder and bore him to thehospital, where his leg was immediately attended to, and his lifesaved. The severity of his own wound, and the length of time whichelapsed before any attention was paid to it, brought on a severefever, and on the escape of General Floyd, he was delirious and unableto accompany him. He was, therefore, sent to Chicago, and placed inthe same hospital with the lieutenant whose life he had saved.
On their recovery, which was about the same time, LieutenantShackleford--for it was he--and Alfred Wentworth were both sent to"Camp Douglas," the military prison near Chicago.
On the receipt of the news in New Orleans, that Fort Donelson andnearly its entire garrison had surrendered, Mrs. Wentworth underwentanother long suspense of excitement and anxiety, which was, however,partially allayed by the intelligence that General Floyd and staff hadescaped. But as the weeks rolled on, and she received no letter fromher husband, the old fear that he may have been killed came over heragain, until relieved by seeing his name as being among the wounded atthe Chicago hospital in one of the city papers.
In mentioning these hours of grief and suspense on the part of Mrs.Wentworth, it must not be understood that we are representing aweak-minded and cowardly woman. On the contrary, Mrs. Wentworth wouldhave rather heard that her husband was killed than one word spokenderogatory to his courage, and would never have consented to hisremaining at home, while so many of his countrymen were hurrying toprotect their country from invasion. Her suspense and grief at theintelligence of a battle in which her husband was engaged, were onlythe natural feeling of an affectionate wife. At that moment she was nolonger the patriot daughter of the South; she was the wife and mother,and none should blame her for her anxiety to know the fate of one somuch loved as her husband, and the father of her children.
Soon after her husband was taken prisoner, Mrs. Wentworth observedthat Horace Awtry became more assiduous in his attentions to her.Every day he would call with presents for her children, and severaltimes small packages of bank-bills were found in the parlor, which,when presented to him, he would always disclaim being the owner of;and although Mrs. Wentworth truly believed that they had been leftthere by him, the kind and respectful tone he used to her, and theintense interest he appeared to take in the welfare of her children,were such that she never imagined, for a moment, he was using thismeans to cloak a vile and unmanly purpose. Once, and only once, wasshe made aware that the scandal tongues of her neighbors were beingused detrimental to her honor; and then the information was given byher slave Elsy, who overheard a conversation between two of herneighbors not at all complimentary to her, and which the faithfulnegress lost no time in repeating to her mistress, with the veryindignant remark that, "ef dem people nex' doh fancy dey can doanyting to take away your name, dey's much mistaken, as I will tellyou ebery ting dey say 'bout you, an' you will know what to do." Mrs.Wentworth made no reply to the negro, but on the next visit of Mr.Awtry's, she candidly told him what had been said of her inconsequence of his visits. He appeared very much surprised, but toldher that such scandalous remarks, emanating as they did out of puremalice, should not be noticed, as all who were acquainted with herknew very well that her character and fair name were above suspicion.With that the subject was dropped, and he continued paying her hisvisits.
New Orleans fell into the hands of the enemy, and the wholeConfederacy was convulsed, as if shaken by an earthquake. Noneanticipated such a thing, and its fall brought misery to thousands.The enemy had scarcely taken possession, than Horace Awtry and hisbosom friend, Charles Bell, went to the provost marshal's office andtook the oath of allegiance, after proving, entirely to thesatisfaction of the Yankees, that they were Northern, and had alwaysbeen Union men. Mr. Awtry immediately received a commission in theFederal army, and by his willingness to point out prominent"secession" men and women, soon ingratiated himself in the favor of"Beast Butler."
No sooner had he gained the favor of Butler, than his attentions toMrs. Wentworth changed to that of unmanly presumption, and at last hehad the baseness to make proposals at once dishonorable to her as alady of virtue and position in society, and disgraceful to him as aman. These propositions were accompanied by a threat to have herturned out of the house and exiled from New Orleans. With a spiritworthy of a Southern woman, she indignantly spurned his base offersand ordered him never to place his feet across the threshold of herhouse, at the same time defying to do his worse. He left her,declaring that she should be turned out of the city, and a few daysafter, in proof of his threat, an order was presented to her, signedby General Butler, commanding her to leave the city.
Her faithful slave, Elsy, shed bitter tears on hearing that her kindmistress would have to leave New Orleans, and declared that she wouldnot remain in the city, but would follow her.
"But they will not let you go with me, Elsy," said Mrs. Wentworth."You are free now, they say, to do as you like--you are no longerbelonging to me."
"I ain't a gwine to stay here, missis," replied the negro, "for anymoney in dis world, and if dey wont let me go out wid you, I will comearter you by myself."
"Well, Elsy," said Mrs. Wentworth, "I do not force you to leave NewOrleans, but should you get out, come to me at Jackson. You are a goodgirl, and I shall not forget your fidelity."
"I'll be dere, shure," said the negro, quite pleased at the permissionto follow her mistress if she could.
Mrs. Wentworth immediately set to work packing up a few necessaries,and with the small amount of money she had left awaited the nextmorning, when she would start for Pass Manchac.
On the following morning she proceeded to the boat, amid the cries andlamentations of the faithful Elsy, and with throbbing heart and manysighs gazed on her loved city until it had receded from her view.
On arriving at the "Pass" she was about to step from the boat, when ahand was laid upon her shoulder, and looking round she observed Mr.Awtry, dressed in the full uniform of a Yankee captain, standing byher.
"Are you determined to leave home," he said, "and all its pleasures;and starve in the rebel lines? Why not accept my offer and lead a lifeof ease and affluence. Your husband shall never know of ourconnection, and thus you will be spared many a weary day and nightworking for bread to feed your children."
She looked at him for a moment with all that withering scorn andindignation which outraged virtue and innocence can assume, and thensaid: "Leave me! Go to the land from whence you came and make suchoffers to the women there, but remember now you are speaking to aSouthern woman."
"But think a moment, and--" he began.
"Leave me this instant," she said excitedly, "or I shall call otherswith more the heart of men than you to my assistance. Accept youroffer?" she continued with all the scorn she could use. "Accept suchan offer from a _Yankee_!
Go, I would despise and hate were you nottoo despicable for either feeling of enmity."
Several persons approaching at that moment, he moved away hurriedlyafter hissing in her ear: "Take your choice. In either one way or theother I am revenged on you for the way you rejected my addresses inpast years."
She landed on the shore, and a few minutes after the boat moved backon its way to New Orleans, when taking her small trunk in her handsthe soldier's wife, with her two children, started on their long andlively march. For where? She knew not. There she was, an utterstranger with two tender children, far from her home, and with onlytwo hundred dollars in money. Where could she go to for support. Herhusband was in a foreign prison, and she a wanderer in a strangeState. Her heart sank within her, and the soldier's wife wept. Aye,wept! Not tears of regret at what she had sacrificed, but tears ofloneliness. Who would not weep if they were parted from those theylove, and were cast in a strange land without a friend, and withscarcely any means?
We leave the soldier's wife for a brief while, and transport thereader to her husband. Her trials have commenced--God help her!