“Speak not so, my husband,” she answered, “my sufferings may be the price of independence, and I meet them cheerfully.  Though in my hours of destitution, despair may have caused me to utter words of anguish, never, for a moment, have I regretted that you left me, to struggle for your country.  If in my sufferings; if in the death of my child; if in my death; and if in the destroying of our once happy family circle, the cause for which you are a soldier is advanced, welcome them.  Woman can only show her devotion by suffering, and though I cannot struggle with you on the battle-field, in suffering as I have done, I feel it has been for our holy cause.”

“Eva, Eva,” he exclaimed, “do all these give you back to me?  Do they restore my angel daughter?  Do they bring me happiness?  Oh, my wife, I had hoped that old age would meet us calmly floating down the stream of Time, surrounded by a happy family, and thanking God for the blessings he had bestowed upon me.  When I first led you to the altar, I dreamed that our lives would be blended together for many, many years, and though I knew that the ’Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,’ and that at any time we may die, I never thought that the end of our happiness would be brought about in such a way as this.  You tell me it is the price of Independence.  Aye, and it is a fearful price.  When you are laid in the cold grave aside of Ella, and I am struggling in the battle-field, what is there to inspire me with courage, and bid me fight on until liberty is won?  And when it is at last achieved, I cannot share the joy of my comrades.  I have no home to go to, and if even I have, it is desolate.  No wife is there to welcome me, no daughter to thank me, but I must take my orphan boy by the hand, and leading him to your grave, kneel by its side and weep together on the sod that covers your remains.”

There was not a dry eye in the room.  All wept with the husband, and even the dying woman could not restrain the tears.

“Alfred,” she said, “do not weep.  My husband, up there, in Heaven, we will meet again, and then the desolation on earth will be more than repaid by the pleasure of eternal joy.  Let not my death cause you to falter in your duty to the South.  Promise me, my husband, that through all changes you will ever remain steadfast and loyal to her sacred cause.  Look not on the cruelty of a few men as the work of the whole, and remember that if even you are not made happier by the achievement of independence, there are others you assist in making so, and other homes which would have been as desolate as yours, but for you and your comrades’ defense.  Promise me, Alfred, that so long as the war lasts, you will never desert the South.”

“I promise,” he replied.

“There is now but one thing that gives me thought,” she continued, her voice growing weaker each moment, “our little boy—­”

“Shall have a home so long as I live and his father is serving his country,” interrupted Dr. Humphries.  “Rest easy on that subject, madam,” he continued, “it will be a pleasure for me to take care of the boy.”