The Trials of the Soldiers Wife | Page 9

suppose you vill give me the shtore for von year
certain?"
"I am not decided about that," replied Mr. Elder, "as I do not like to
bind myself for any given time; for," he continued, "there is no telling
what may be the worth of a store in six months."
"I vould not take it unless I could get a lease by the year," replied Mr.
Swartz; "for the fact is, I have made a large contract with the
government, and vill have to extend by pisness."
Mr. Elder remained thoughtful for a few moments; then he replied: "As
you wont take it unless I give a lease for twelve months, I will do so on
one condition: that on your failure to pay the rent monthly in advance,
you forfeit the lease, and I am at liberty to demand your removal
without any notice."
"Shust as you like," he replied, "for I know te monish vill always pe
ready in advance."
"Well, I shall have the lease drawn out to-day and bring it to you to
sign," said Mr. Elder, rising and putting on his gloves. "Good morning;
be here at three o'clock, as I shall call round at that hour," and with
those words he left the room, and the Dutchman resumed the counting
of his money.
CHAPTER SEVENTH.
THE HUSBAND A PRISONER--EXILE OF THE SOLDIER'S WIFE.
Months rolled on, during which time Mrs. Wentworth was cheered by
many kind and affectionate letters from her husband, who had not been
sick a day since his departure from home. One of the letters received
from him stated that he had been detailed from his regiment to act as
clerk in Brigadier General Floyd's adjutant general's office, his superior
intelligence fitting him admirably for such an office; and the next letter
from him was dated at Fort Donelson, whence General Floyd had been
ordered with his brigade.

Fort Donelson fell. We need not record here the heroic defense and
stubborn fighting of the Confederate forces, and their unfortunate
capture afterwards. These are matters of history, and should be
recorded by the historian, and not the novelist. Sufficient to say, that in
the last day's fight Alfred Wentworth, having received a severe wound
in the arm, was marching to the rear, when an officer, dressed in the
garb of a lieutenant, who was lying on the field, called faintly to him,
and on his going up, he observed that the lieutenant's left leg was
fearfully mangled by a fragment of shell, and was bleeding so profusely,
that, unless medical aid was quickly procured, he would die. Forgetting
his own wound, which was very painful, he lifted the officer on his
shoulder and bore him to the hospital, where his leg was immediately
attended to, and his life saved. The severity of his own wound, and the
length of time which elapsed before any attention was paid to it,
brought on a severe fever, and on the escape of General Floyd, he was
delirious and unable to accompany him. He was, therefore, sent to
Chicago, and placed in the same hospital with the lieutenant whose life
he had saved.
On their recovery, which was about the same time, Lieutenant
Shackleford--for it was he--and Alfred Wentworth were both sent to
"Camp Douglas," the military prison near Chicago.
On the receipt of the news in New Orleans, that Fort Donelson and
nearly its entire garrison had surrendered, Mrs. Wentworth underwent
another long suspense of excitement and anxiety, which was, however,
partially allayed by the intelligence that General Floyd and staff had
escaped. But as the weeks rolled on, and she received no letter from her
husband, the old fear that he may have been killed came over her again,
until relieved by seeing his name as being among the wounded at the
Chicago hospital in one of the city papers.
In mentioning these hours of grief and suspense on the part of Mrs.
Wentworth, it must not be understood that we are representing a
weak-minded and cowardly woman. On the contrary, Mrs. Wentworth
would have rather heard that her husband was killed than one word
spoken derogatory to his courage, and would never have consented to

his remaining at home, while so many of his countrymen were hurrying
to protect their country from invasion. Her suspense and grief at the
intelligence of a battle in which her husband was engaged, were only
the natural feeling of an affectionate wife. At that moment she was no
longer the patriot daughter of the South; she was the wife and mother,
and none should blame her for her anxiety to know the fate of one so
much loved as her husband, and the father of her children.
Soon after her husband was taken prisoner, Mrs. Wentworth observed
that Horace