ere 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."

"Then I die happy," said Mrs. Wentworth, and turning to her husband
she said with difficulty, "Farewell, my husband. Amid all my trials
and sufferings my love for you has ever been as true and pure as the
hour we married. To die in your arms, with my head on your bosom was
all I wished, and my desire is gratified. Farewell."

Before her husband could reply her reason had vanished, and she
remained oblivious to all around her. Her eyes were closed, and the
moving of her lips alone told that she yet lived.

"Eva! darling! Wife!" exclaimed Alfred passionately "Speak to me! oh
my angel wife, speak one word to me ere you die. Look at me! say that
you recognize me. Awake to consciousness, and let me hear the sound of
your voice once more. Wake up my wife" he continued wildly, "Oh for
another word--one look before you are no more."

His wild and passionate words reached the ear of the dying woman, and
her voice came again, but it was the dying flicker of the expiring
lamp. She slowly opened her eyes and looked up in the face of her
husband.

"Alfred--husband, happiness" she murmured softly, then gently drawing
down his head, her lips touched his for an instant, and the soldier's
wife embraced her husband for the last time on earth.

Releasing his head Mrs. Wentworth kept her eyes fixed upon those of
her husband. Their glances met and told their tale of deep and
unutterable affection. The look they gave each other pierced their
souls, and lit up each heart with the fires of love. Thus they
continued for several minutes, when Mrs. Wentworth, rising on her
elbow, looked for a moment on the grief struck group around her bed.

"Farewell," she murmured, and then gazing at her husband, her lips
moved, but her words could not be heard.

Stooping his ear to her lips, Alfred caught their import, and the
tears coursed down his cheek.

The words