“And now one last farewell,” continued Mrs. Wentworth, again embracing the corpse.  Another instant and she was out of the room followed by the three men, and they proceeded in the direction of the jail.

The old negro fell on her knees by the side of the bed, burying her head in the folds of the counterpane, while the tears flowed freely from her eyes.  The little boy nestled by her side sobbing and calling for his mother.

“Don’t cry chile,” said the old negro, endeavoring to console him.  “Your mammy will come back one of dese days,” then recollecting the words of Mrs. Wentworth in reference to him, she took him in her arms, and continued, “poh chile, I will take care ob you until your father come for you.”

Thus did the good hearted slave register her promise to take care of the child, and her action was but the result of the kind treatment she had received from her owner.  She had been taken care of when a child by the father of her present owner, who was no other than Dr. Humphries, and now that she had grown old and feeble, he had provided her with a home, and supported her in return for the long life of faithful service she had spent as his slave.

The next morning at about nine o’clock, a hearse might have been seen in front of the old woman’s cabin.  Without any assistance the negro driver lifted a little coffin from the chairs on which it rested in the room, and conveyed it into the hearse.  It then drove off slowly, followed by the old negro and the infant, and drove to the burial ground.  There a short and simple prayer was breathed over the coffin, and in a few moments a mound of earth covered it.  Thus was buried the little angel girl, who we have seen suffer uncomplainingly, and die with a trusting faith in her advent to Heaven.  No long procession of mortals followed her body, but the Angels of God were there, and they strewed the wood with the flowers of Paradise, which though invisible, wafted a perfume into the soul sweeter than the choicest exotics of earth.

From the grave of the child we turn to the mother, to see if her sufferings died with the body of the Angel which had just been buried.  They had not, for still the eye of God was turned from the Soldier’s Wife, and he saw not the life of misery and degradation that she was leading.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD.

THE COMMITTAL.

On the morning that Ella was buried, Mrs. Wentworth was carried before the Mayor, and charges preferred against her for robbery.  The package containing the remainder of the money had been found on her person the night previous, and this evidence was brought forward against her.

“What are your charges against this woman, Mr. Swartz,” began his Honor.

“Vell your Honor,” replied that individual, “I vill tell dem in but few words.  Dis voman called at my shtore yesterday, and begged me for monish.  I gave her von tollar, but she vouldn’t take it, and after she left de shtore I found out dat a package of monish, dat was on de safe was gone, I den called mine clerk, and I look for de monish, and he looked for de monish, but ve neider of us find de monish.  Den I say dat certainly somepody must take dish monish, and he say so too; den ve remember dat dis voman vas leaning against de safe, and he told me of it, and I remember too, and—­”