The Trials of the Soldier's Wife: A Tale of the Second American RevolutionAbrams, Alex. St. Clair (Alexander St. Clair)
History
The Trials of the Soldier's Wife: A Tale of the Second American Revolution
Abrams, Alex. St. Clair (Alexander St. Clair)
Confederate States of America -- Fiction; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
He was unmoved. Why should he care for the misery of strangers? Was he
not of the world as man generally finds it? The exceptions to the rule
are not of this earth. They occupy a place in the celestial realms,
for, if even they may have committed sins in early life, their deeds
of charity blots out the record, and they enter Heaven welcomed by the
hosts of angels who dwell there, while their absence from this creates
a void not easily filled.
Mr. Elder answered her not for several minutes. He stood there with
his arms folded, silently gazing upon the thin form of Mrs. Wentworth,
who, with clasped hands and outstretched arms, anxiously awaited his
decision. But he gave no promise of acquiescence, no hope of pity, no
look of charity in his features--they looked cold, stern, and vexed.
There she stood the picture of grief, awaiting the words that would
either give her hope or plunge her forever into the fathomless depths
of despair. The eyes of the soldier's wife were turned on Mr. Elder
with a sad and supplicating look. In any other but the cold,
calculating creature before her, their look might have moved to pity,
but with him nothing availed; not even a struggle for mastery between
humanity and brutality could be seen, and as she gazed upon him she
felt that there was no chance of her wishes being gratified.
Her little son clung to her dress half frightened at the attitude of
his mother, and the stern and unforbidding aspect of Mr. Elder. Ella
strove to rise while her mother was speaking, but fell back on her bed
unable to perform the effort. She was, therefore, content to be there
and listen to the conversation as it occurred between Mr. Elder and
her mother. Her little heart was also tortured, for this had been the
first time she had ever heard such passionate and earnest language as
was depicted in Mrs. Wentworth's words.
At last Mr. Elder spoke, and his words were eagerly listened to by
Mrs. Wentworth.
"This annoys me very much," he said. "Your importunities are very
disagreeable to me, and I must insist that they shall cease. As I told
you before, I cannot afford to lose tenants in an unnecessary act of
liberality, and through mistaken charity. The fact is," he continued
in a firm and decisive tone, "you _must_ leave this room to-night. I
will not listen to any more of your pleading. Your case is but the
repetition of many others who fled from their homes and left all they
had, under the impression that the people of other States would be
compelled to support them. This is a mistaken idea, and the sooner its
error is made known the better it will be for the people of the South,
whose homes are in the hands of the enemy."
"Then you are determined that my children and myself shall be turned
from the shelter of this room to-night," she enquired, dropping her
hands by her side, and assuming a standing attitude.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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