n nature imperatively
demanded repose.

The doctors requested that Alfred and Emma would retire while they
examined the patient. In accordance with their wishes, they did so,
and Alfred, entering the balcony, paced up and down, impatient for the
result of the consultation. The door of Mrs. Wentworth's chamber
remained closed for nearly half an hour, when it opened, and Drs.
Humphries, Mallard and Purtell issued from it, looking grave and sad.

The heart of the husband sank as he looked at their features.

"Let me know the worst," he said, huskily, as they approached him.

"We will not deceive you," replied Dr. Mallard, "your wife, we fear,
will remain a maniac while her strength lasts, and then--" here he
paused.

"And then--" replied Alfred, inquiringly.

"We fear she will only recover her reason to die" continued Dr.
Mallard in a tone of sympathy.

"God help, me," uttered the soldier, as he sunk on a chair and buried
his face in his hands.

After a few more words full of sympathy and condolence the two doctors
left, and shortly after Dr. Humphries dispatched a servant to bring
the little boy from the old negro's cabin.

"His presence may rally Mr. Wentworth," the doctor observed to Harry.
"Since the consultation he has remained in the same seat, and has
never once visited the room of his wife. Something must be done to
rouse him from his grief, otherwise it will be fatal to his health."

"The presence of his son may be beneficial," said Harry, "but I do not
believe the child can while him away from the sorrow he has met with.
It has been a hard--a fatal blow, and has fallen with fearful effect
upon my poor friend."

In about an hour the servant returned with the child. He had been
neatly dressed in a new suit of clothes and looked the embodiment of
childish innocence.

Taking him by the hand Dr. Humphries led him into the balcony where
Alfred still sat with his face buried in his hands, deep in thought
and racked with grief.

"Here," said the old gentleman, "here is your son. The living and well
claim your attention as well as those who are gone and those who
suffer."

Alfred raised his head and gazed at the child for a moment.

"My boy," he exclaimed at last, "you are the last link of a once happy
chain." As he spoke he pressed the child to his bosom, and the
strong-hearted soldier found relief in tears.

CHAPTER THIRTIETH.

DEATH OF THE SOLDIER'S WIFE.

The presence of his child ligh