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."