As soon as they were asleep, Mrs. Wentworth removed from the bedside
and seated herself at the window, which she opened. There she sat,
looking at the clouds as they floated by, dark as her own prospects
were. The morning dawned and saw her still there. It was a beautiful
morning, but the warble of the bird in a tree near by, as he poured
forth his morning song, awoke no echo in the heart of the soldier's
wife. All was cheerless within her. The brightness of the morning only
acted like a gleam of light at the mouth of a cavern. It made the
darkness of her thoughts more dismal.




CHAPTER THIRTEENTH.

THE APPEAL FOR CREDIT


The first call of the little boy, when he awoke in the morning, was
for bread. He was doubly hungry now. Thirty-six hours had passed since
he had eaten the last mouthful of food that remained in the room. Mrs.
Wentworth on that night of vigils, had determined to make an appeal
for help to the man she had purchased the furniture from, on her
arrival at Jackson, and in the event of his refusing to assist her, to
sell the bed on which her children were wont to sleep. This
determination had not been arrived at without a struggle in the heart
of the soldier's wife. For the first time in her life she was about to
sue for help from a stranger, and the blood rushed to her cheeks, as
she thought of the humiliation that poverty entails upon mortal. It is