When I knelt beside Wardour Wentworth in the old church of chimes a fortnight after my emancipation from the thraldom of demons, I acquired with this new allegiance of mine a more Christian and forbearing spirit than had ever before possessed me; but the pearl of great price came not yet.  Into the deeps of sorrow was my soul first compelled to enter, a diver in the great ocean, whence alone all such precious pearls are borne.

Notice had been given to Claude Bainrothe to evacuate my father’s premises before my return from the brief wedding-trip which comprised business as well as recreation.  Captain Wentworth took me with him to Richmond and to Washington, to both of which places his affairs led him.  In the last I had the pleasure of grasping Old Hickory by his honest hand.  He was my husband’s patron and benefactor, and as such alone entitled to my regard; but there was more.  As patriot, soldier, gentleman in the truest sense of the word, I have not seen his peer.

It was a great delight to me, in spite of the shadow Evelyn’s grief threw over our threshold, to stand once more as mistress in my father’s house, even in the wreck of fortune, and control the education and destiny of my young sister.  Little Ernie, too, had his place in the household as son by adoption, and grew daily stronger and more vigorous in our sight, the thoughtful, loving, and reticent child, heralding the man of power, affection, and principle, that he has become.

The employment of my husband lay near the city of my nativity.  He was occupied in making the great railroad through Jersey that was the pioneer of engineering progress, and a mighty link between two kindred States.  He was in this way, though often absent, never for any length of time, and his return was always a fresh source of joy to his household.  Mabel worshiped him; Ernie silently revered; Evelyn with all of her growing peculiarities acknowledged he had merit; and Mrs. Austin regarded him with mingled awe and affection, for to her he was singularly kind and affectionate.

“To grow old in servitude,” he would say, “what sadder fate can befall any being, or more entitle him or her to forbearance and respect?  What life-long hardships does this condition not impose?  And this is a field for universal charity, which costs not much, only a little patience and a few kind words and smiles.”

Ours was a happy household; no cloud rested upon it, save for a few brief days of illness or discomfort, until the great blow fell.  In her seventeenth year and on the eve of her marriage with Norman Stansbury (again our neighbor, at intervals, when he came to visit his relatives, a man of noble qualities and singularly devoted to my sister), Mabel died suddenly of some secret disease of the heart which had simulated radiant health and bloom.