“Your husband at Quebec—and you here! how the deuce came that about?”
“My child has fallen asleep,” replied Mrs. Barton, turning to Mrs. Sackville; “and if you, ma'am, will condescend to hear the cause of my being here—there is no reason that I should be loath to tell it; only you know, ma'am, one does not like to be forward about speaking of troubles to strangers—and those so kind as you, it seems like begging, which I am not forward to do.”
Mrs. Sackville assured Mrs. Barton, that she felt great interest in knowing how she came into her present circumstances.
“My husband,” she said, “was a corporal in the fortieth ——. We were in Spain through all Wellington's campaigns, and had just crossed the Pyrennees into France, and were thinking of going home to England again, when the regiment was ordered to America. This was no great disappointment to me—I have no known relation in the world but my husband and child—then I had but the one. My husband is a sober man, who fears God and serves his king with all his heart: and his pay with my earnings, (for I did up all the linen of our officers) furnished us a decent living. When we arrived at Quebec, our regiment was sent into Upper Canada.
“Soon after we came to Newark, a detachment from the De Watteville regiment was ordered to make an attack on Fort Erie. In this detachment was a corporal, a great friend to us, who once saved my boy from drowning. At the moment he was ordered off, he had a child seemingly at the last gasp. The poor man was distracted like, and my husband, who had that tender heart that he could never bide to look on misery, offered to go as his substitute, and he went. You've doubtless heard of the sortie of Erie: that dreadful night my husband was taken prisoner. He got a letter written to me from Buffalo, to tell me all his ill-fortune. He had been mistaken by some American soldiers for a deserter from the American army; and not being with his own regiment when he was taken, or even among his acquaintance, he could not prove who he was. He had been ironed, and was to be taken to Greenbush, near Albany.
“He entreated me to procure from his captain, the necessary papers to prove that he was a true man, and to forward them to him. Our captain was a great friend to us; he gave me the writings, and I determined myself to go to Greenbush. I met with some troubles, and much kindness by the way. The people in your States, ma'am, are the freest and the kindest I have ever seen. They seemed to me like God's stewards, always ready to open their storehouses to the naked and hungry. I had money enough to pay for my boy's riding the most of the way; for myself I seldom felt weary, but pressed on beyond my strength; still I did not feel it till I got to Greenbush, and was told my husband had escaped from confinement the week before. Whither he had gone, no one knew, but all told me that if he was not retaken, he had probably reached Canada.
“I would have come straight home again, but my strength was utterly gone. I have not much recollection from this time: I remember having a fear that they would take my boy from me, but all seems as a dream, till I came to myself two months after in the alms-house in Albany. From that time I remained in a low wretched state, for four months, when this poor baby was born into this world of trouble.”
Here the poor woman gave way to a burst of tears, which seemed to be a relief to her full heart; for afterwards, she proceeded with more composure. “Many months passed before I was able to do any thing for myself. It pleased God to hear my prayer for patience; and though I was often without any hope that times would ever mend with me, I was kept from fretting. You are very kind to feel for me, but I will not tire you with all my ups and downs for the last three years. I have sent many letters into Canada, but have never received any return. My heart sometimes misgives me, and I think my husband has gone to Europe—or maybe is dead.”
“But, why,” asked Mrs. Sackville, “have you remained so long in the States?”
“O, ma'am, I was afraid to undertake the journey with my poor baby, who has always been but delicate, and I was determined not to leave Albany, where I had made many kind friends, till I had earned something to help us on our journey. I know how to turn my hands to almost any kind of work; and the last year has prospered so well with me, that when I left Albany I had forty dollars. At Buffalo my poor baby was taken down; and I have been obliged to spend ten dollars; with the rest I hope to get to Quebec; and if worst comes to worst, I may there find friends to send me to Europe.”