The soldier's wife sat by the bedside, on one of the rude chairs, that formed a portion of the furniture, and remained plunged in thought. A deep sleep had overtaken Ella, although her breathing was heavy, and the fever raged with redoubled violence. "Mother can't I get something to eat?" asked her little son. His words woke his mother from her thoughts, but before she could reply, the old negro had forestalled. "Is it some ting you want to eat, my little darling," she enquired, rising from her seat, and going to a little cupboard near the door of the room. "Yes granny," he answered, "I am quite hungry." "Bress your little heart," she remarked, giving him a large piece of bread. "Here is some ting to eat." Taking the child on her knees, she watched him until he had completed eating the food, when putting him down, she opened a trunk, and pulled out a clean white sheet, which she placed on a little mattress near the bed. "Come now," she said, "go to bed now like a good boy." The child obeyed her, and was soon enjoying a refreshing sleep. "Where will you sleep to-night, auntie," asked Mrs. Wentworth, who had been a silent observer of the old woman's proceedings. "I got some tings 'bout here; missis, dat will do for a bed," she answered. "I am sorry I have to take away your bed to-night," remarked Mrs. Wentworth, "but I hope I will be able to pay you for your kindness some time." "Dat's all right," replied the old negress, and spreading a mass of different articles on the floor, she crept in among them, and shortly after fell asleep, leaving Mrs. Wentworth alone with her thoughts, watching over the sleeping forms of her children. The next morning the old woman woke up early, and lighting fire, made a frugal but amply sufficient breakfast, which, she placed before her uninvited guests. Mrs. Wentworth partook of the meal but slightly, and her little son ate heartily. Ella being still asleep, she was not disturbed. Shortly after the meal was over, the old negro left the cabin, saying she would return some time during the day. About nine o'clock, Ella woke, and feebly called her mother. Mrs. Wentworth approached the bedside, and started back much shocked at the appearance of her child. The jaws of the little girl had sunk, her eyes were dull and expressiveless and her breath came thick and heavily. "What do you wish my darling," enquired her mother. "I feel quite sick, mother," said the little girl, speaking faintly and with great difficulty. "What is the matter with you?" Mrs. Wentworth asked, her face turning as pale as her child's. "I cannot breathe," she answered, "and my eyes feel dim. What can be the matter?" "Nothing much, my angel," replied her mother. "You have only taken a cold from exposure in the air last night. Bear up and you will soon get well again." "I feel so different now from what I did before," she remarked. "Before I was so hot, and now I feel as cold as ice."