The Trials of the Soldiers Wife | Page 2

would regret it. But the patriotic heart of his wife
would not reproach him for having performed his duty; so heaving a
sigh as she looked at the child in her arms, and the little girl on her
fathers knee, a tear trickled down her flushed cheek as she bade him
God-speed. The time that elapsed between his enlistment and departure
for the seat of war, was spent by Alfred Wentworth in providing a
home for his family, so that in the event of his being killed in battle,
they should not want. Purchasing a small residence on Prytania street,
he removed his family into it and concluded his business in time for his
departure.
The morning of the twenty-second of May broke brightly over the
far-famed "Crescent City." Crowds of citizens were seen congregating
on Canal street to witness the departure of two more regiments of
Orleanians. The two regiments were drawn up in line between Camp
and Carondelet streets, and their fine uniforms, glistening muskets and
soldierly appearance created a feeling of pride among the people. They
were composed principally of Creoles and Americans, proper. The
handsome, though dark complexions of the Creoles could be seen lit up
with enthusiasm, in conversation with the dark-eyed Creole beauties of
the city, while the light-haired and fair-faced sons of the Crescent City
were seen mingling among the crowd of anxious relatives who
thronged to bid them farewell.
Apart from the mass of volunteers--who had previously stacked their
arms--Alfred Wentworth and his wife were bidding that agonizing
farewell, which only those who have parted from loved one can feel.
His little bright-eyed daughter was clasped in his arms, and every
minute he would stoop over his infant and kiss its tiny cheeks. Marks of
tears were on the eyelids of his wife, but she strove to hide them, and
smiled at every remark made by her daughter. They were alone from
the eyes of a curious crowd. Each person present had too much of his
own acquaintances to bid farewell, to notice the speechless farewell

which the soldier gave his wife. With one arm clasped around her, and
the other holding his daughter, Alfred Wentworth gazed long and
earnestly at the features of his wife and children, as if to impress the
features of those loved ones still firmer in his mind.
"Attention, battalion!" rang along the line in stentorian tones, and the
voices of the company officers calling "fall in, boys, fall in!" were
heard in the streets. Clasping his wife to his heart, and imprinting a
fond, fond kiss of love upon her cheeks, and embracing his children,
the soldier took his place in the ranks, and after the necessary
commands, the volunteers moved forward. A crowd of their relatives
followed them to the depot of the New Orleans, Jackson and Great
Northern Railroad, and remained until the cars were out of sight. After
the troops had entered, and the train was slowly moving off, one of the
soldiers jumped from the platform, and, embracing a lady who stood
near, exclaimed:
"Farewell, dearest Eva! God bless you and the children--we shall meet
again." As soon as he spoke, Alfred Wentworth sprang into the cars
again and was soon swiftly borne from the city.
Mrs. Wentworth remained standing where her husband had left her,
until the vast crowd had dispersed, and nothing could be seen of the
train but a thin wreath of smoke emerging from the tree-tops in the
distance. Calling the colored nurse, who had followed with the children,
she bade her return home, and accompanied her back to her now lonely
residence.
CHAPTER SECOND.
THE WIFE AND CHILDREN--A VISITOR
The weeks passed slowly to Mrs. Wentworth from the departure of her
husband; but her consciousness that he was performing his duty to his
country, and the letters he wrote from Virginia, cheered her spirits, and,
in a measure, made her forget his absence.
She was alone one evening with her children, who had become the sole

treasures of her heart, and on whom she lavished every attention
possible, when the ringing of the bell notified her of the presence of a
visitor. Calling the servant, she bade her admit the person at the door.
The negro left the room to do her mistress' bidding, and shortly after, a
handsome gentleman of about thirty-five years of age entered.
"Good morning, Mrs. Wentworth," he said, on entering the room. "I
trust yourself and children are in good health."
Mrs. Wentworth rose from her chair, and, slightly inclining her head,
replied: "To what circumstance am I indebted for the honor of this visit,
Mr. Awtry?"
"Nothing very particular, madam," he replied; "but hearing of your
husband's departure, I thought I should lake the liberty of paying a visit
to an old acquaintance,