Taking Alfred by the hand and followed by Harry, the doctor led the way to the chamber of the dying wife.  The child was sitting on the bed with his mothers arms around his neck.  Emma, Elsie, and the old negro were standing at the bedside looking sorrowfully at Mrs. Wentworth.  As soon as her husband entered, they made way for him to approach.

“Alfred, my husband” exclaimed Mrs. Wentworth, extending her arms, “I am so glad you have come that I can see you once more before I die.”

“Eva, my heart strings are torn with agony to see you thus” he replied raising her gently and pillowing his head on her bosom, “Oh! my wife, that this should be the end of all my hopes.  What consolation is there left to me on earth when you are gone.”

“Speak not so despairingly” she answered, “It were better that I should die than live with a burning conscience.  My husband, the act for which I have been tried, still haunts me, for here on earth it will ever be a reproach, while in Heaven, the sin I committed will be forgiven through the intercession of a divine Savior.”

“Perish the remembrance of that act!” answered her husband.  “To me my darling wife it can make no difference, for I regret only the necessity which impelled you to do it, and not the act.  Live, oh my wife, live and your fair fame shall never suffer, while your husband is able to shield you from the reproaches of the world.  Though the proud may affect to scorn you, those in whose hearts beats a single touch of generosity will forgive and forget it, and if even they do not, in the happiness of my unfaltering affections, the opinions of the world, can be easily disregarded.”

“It cannot be” she answered, “I am dying Alfred, and before many hours, the spirit will be resting in heaven.  To have you by my side ere my breath leaves my body, to grasp your hand, and gaze on your loved features ere I die, removes all my unhappiness of the weary months now past, and I leave this world content.”

“Oh my wife” said Alfred, “Is this the end of our married life?  Is this the reward I reap for serving my country!  Oh, had I remained in New Orleans, the eye of the libertine would never have been cast upon you, and you would have been saved from the grasp of the heartless speculator and extortioner.—­What is independence compared with you my wife?  What have I gained by severing the ties of love and leaving a happy home, to struggle for the liberty of my country?  A dead child—­a dying wife—­a child who will now be motherless; while I will be a wretched heart-broken man.  Better, far better, had I resisted the calls of my country, and remained with you, than to return and find my happiness gone, and my family beggared, and tossing on the rough billows of adversity, unheeded by the wealthy, and unfriended by all.”