very precarious. One of the balls that had entered his body could not
be found, and the wound was kept open with the view to discovering
where it had lodged. His agony of mind at the failure of his attempt
to escape had retarded his recovery in a great degree, and when the
information came that the prisoners were about to be exchanged, and he
was declared unable to be removed, it added further to his detriment.
A fever seized him, and for many days he remained on his bed, hovering
between life and death.




CHAPTER TWELFTH.

THE STARVING CHILDREN.


Long weeks rolled on, and the small sum possessed by Mrs. Wentworth,
had been entirely exhausted. She had, however, by sewing, contrived to
supply herself and children with food. It was the same old tale of
sleepless nights of toil. Often the grey streak which heralds the
morning, would find her still pouring over her work, while her two
children were sleeping on the bed in one corner of the room. At times
she would cease her work, and think for long hours on the loved
husband, now a prisoner in the hands of the Federals. In those hours,
tears would course her cheeks, as the stern reality of her position
presented itself; to know that he was absent, while she was leading a
life of penury and toil. Still she struggled on. When at times despair
rose up before her like a demon, and she felt herself about to succumb
to it, the memory of her absent husband, and the sight of her loved