Hardscrabble; or, the fall of Chicago Part 15

"Say no more, dearest Mrs. Headley, since it is your wish, I will go, no matter what the reception I encounter; and any further rebuke I may meet with, I will cheerfully endure for your sake."

"Now then, Ronayne, you are once more yourself, the generous, high-minded boy, in whom I delighted, even as a mother would delight in her son, when you first arrived here about three years ago. Yet, recollect that not only _I_ shall be gratified and benefitted by this, but YOU and YOURS. Let but this unhappy discord terminate, and we shall then be what soldiers and those connected with them, ought ever to be--one undivided family. And now, for the present, farewell."

"G.o.d bless you!" fervently exclaimed the ensign, as he took his leave of the graceful and n.o.ble wife of the commanding officer, with emotions that fully testified the effect produced upon him by her generous confidence and candor.

From the frequent reference made by Mrs. Headley to her own riper years, one might have been induced to consider her rather in the decline of life; but such was not the case. Her splendid and matronly figure might indeed have impressed the superficial observer with the belief that she had numbered more than forty summers, but the unchained and luxuriant hair--the white, even and perfect teeth--the rich, full lip, and unwrinkled brow, and smooth and brilliant cheek, would not have permitted the woman most jealous of her charms, could such have been found, to p.r.o.nounce her more than six-and-thirty, which was, indeed, her age. It was a source of gratification to her to consider and represent herself as older than she really was; and if she had any peculiarity--a weakness it could not be called--it was that of loving to look upon those younger persons who claimed a place in her friendship and esteem, as though she actually stood in the maternal relation to them. This may have, in some degree, arisen from the fact of her having ever been childless herself.

As Ronayne approached Elmsley's house on his return, a remarkably handsome and n.o.ble-looking Indian--quite a youth--was leaning against the frame of the door, and according to the simple habit of his race, indulging his curiosity by looking at, and admiring all that he beheld within. Elmsley himself had gone out, but Von Vottenberg, still seated at the breakfast-table, was discussing, with its remains, the now nearly finished claret, while Mrs. Elmsley and Maria Heywood were seated on the sofa opposite to the door, pa.s.sing their whispered remarks on the Indian, whose softened dark glances occasionally fell with intense admiration on the former, when he fancied the act unseen, but as instantly were withdrawn, when he perceived that it was observed.

Mrs. Elmsley was endeavoring to dissipate the dejection of her friend by rallying her, as the young officer came to the door, on the evidently new conquest she had made. The Indian turned to look at the intruder upon his pleasant musings, when a "wah!" expressive of deep satisfaction escaped him, and at the same moment, Ronayne grasped, and cordially shook his hand.

"Ha! there is his formidable rival, and seemingly his friend," whispered Mrs. Elmsley, in the ear of Maria--"handsome fellows, both of them, so much so, that were I single, like you, I should have some difficulty in choosing between them."

As she uttered these words, a sharp and unaccountable pang, sudden and fleeting as electricity, shot through the frame of her friend. The blood suddenly receded from her cheek, and then rapidly returning, suffused it with a burning heat.

"What is the matter, my love? Are you ill, you looked so pale just now?"

tenderly inquired Mrs. Elmsley.

"I cannot account for what I experienced. It was a feeling different from any I had ever known before--a strange, wild, and inexplicable dread of I know not what. But it has pa.s.sed away. Take no notice of it, dear, before Ronayne."

"Mrs. Elmsley," said the latter, almost using force to induce the modest-looking young Indian to enter the room, "will you allow me first to introduce my friend Waunangee to you, and then to give him a gla.s.s of claret? Forgive the liberty I take, but I confess a good deal of obligation to him, and would fain do the civil in return."

"Indeed! what a set speech for a gla.s.s of wine. Give it to him by all means, if it is only for his beautiful eyes--that is to say, if the doctor has left any--or stay, I will get another bottle."

"By no means," returned the young officer, "this unconscionable man has just left about half a tumbler foil, and I do not intend he shall have more. Waunangee," he pursued, after filling and presenting him with the gla.s.s, "that is the lady of the house," pointing to Mrs. Elmsley, "you must drink to her health."

"And dis you handsome squaw," remarked the Indian, a moment or two after having tossed off the wine, which quickly circulated through his veins.

"Dis you wife!" he repeated, throwing his expressive eyes upon Miss Heywood, while a rich glow lighted up his dark, but finely formed features.

"Hush!" said Ronayne, making a sign to intimate that he was not to indulge in such observations.

But even the small quant.i.ty of wine he had taken was acting potently on the fast animating Indian. "Dis no you squaw--dis Waunangee squaw," he said, with strong excitement of manner. "Waunangee, see him beautiful, Waunangee got warm heart--love him very much!"

"Tolerably well for a modest youth!" exclaimed the laughing Mrs.

Elmsley. "Who would have thought that one with those soft black eyes, more fitted for a woman than a man, would hazard so glowing a speech, after an acquaintance of barely five minutes?"

"Who says Chicago doesn't abound in adventure?" sneered Von Vottenberg, as he arose and pa.s.sed into the apartment of his patient. "I shall certainly write a book about this when I get back into the civilized world, and ent.i.tle it 'The Loves of the Handsome Waunangee, and the Beautiful American.'"

"You had better write 'The Loves of the Fat Von Vottenberg, and his Mistress, Whisky Punch,'" remarked Ronayne, peevishly, for in spite of himself, he felt annoyed at an observation, which he thought delicacy might have spared. "Come, Waunangee, my good friend, we must go."

But the young Indian was not so easily led. "Waunangee have him first dis nice squaw," he said, with all that show of dogged obstinacy which so usually distinguishes his race, when under the influence of liquor, and bent upon the attainment of a particular object.

"Hear me, Waunangee," replied the other, placing his hand upon his shoulder, and now, that Mrs. Elmsley only was present with his affianced, feeling less scruple in explaining to the young savage--"that is my squaw--my wife."

"Why you no tell him so?" asked the youth, gravely, and with an air of reproach, while, at the same time, he fixed his soft and melancholy eyes upon Miss Heywood. "Waunangee love officer's squaw--but Waunangee good heart. Shake him hand, my friend," he continued, walking up to her, and tendering his own, while, singular as it seemed to all, a tear dimmed his eye, and stole down his cheek. "'Spose no Waunangee wife--you Waunangee's friend?"

The generous but trembling girl, shook cordially the hand that rested in her own, and a.s.sured the youth, in a way easily intelligible to him, that, as the friend of her husband, and she blushed deeply, as the moment afterwards she became sensible she had used a word, she could not but feel to be premature, she would always regard him with friendship and esteem.

"What a nice little scene we might get up out of this morning's adventure," said the ever gay Mrs. Elmsley, as Waunangee, after having shaken hands with herself, departed with Ronayne. "Really, my dear, he is a fine looking, and certainly a warm-hearted fellow, that Wau--Wan--what's his name, Maria?"

"Waunangee. I know not how it is, Margaret, or why--I should attach so much importance to the thing, but if ever those glimpses of the future, called presentiments, had foundation in truth, that young Indian is destined to exercise some sort of influence over my fate."

"You do not mean that he is to supplant Ronayne, I hope," returned her friend, trying to laugh her oat of the serious mood, in which she seemed so much inclined to indulge.

"How can you speak so, Margaret? No, my presentiment is of a different character. But it is very foolish and silly to allow the feeling to weigh with me. I will try to think more rationally. Say nothing of this, however, and least of all to Ronayne."

"Not a word, dearest. Good bye for the present. I must look after the dinner. You know who dines with us."

A look expressive of the deep sense she entertained of the consideration of her friend, was the only commentary of Miss Heywood, as she pa.s.sed into her mother's apartment.

CHAPTER XI.

It was now the middle of May. A month had elapsed since the events detailed in the preceding chapters. The recollection of the outrage at Heywood's farm, committed early in April was fast dying away, save in the bosoms of those more immediately interested in the fate of its proprietor, and apprehensions of a repet.i.tion of similar atrocities had, in a great measure, ceased. A better understanding between the commanding officer and his subordinates--the result of a long private interview, which Ensign Ronayne had had with the former, on the morning after his promise to Mrs. Headley, followed by an apology on parade that day, had arisen. Corporal Nixon was now Sergeant Nixon--Collins had succeeded to him, and Le Noir and the boy--Catholic and Protestant--had been buried in one grave. Ephraim Giles filled the office of factotum to Von Vottenberg, whose love of whisky punch, was, if possible, on the increase. Winnebeg, the bearer of confidential despatches, announcing the hostile disposition and acts of certain of the Winnebagoes, had not returned, and Waunangee, who, recovered from the fumes of the claret, had, in an earnest manner, expressed to Ronayne contrition for the liberty he had taken with Miss Heywood, had departed from the neighborhood, no one knew whither. Harmony, in a word, had been some days restored in the Fort, and the only thing that detracted from the general contentment, was the uncertainty attending the fate of Mr.

Heywood--regretted less, however, for his own sake, than for that of his amiable daughter, who vainly sought to conceal from her friends, the anxiety induced by an absence, the duration of which it was utterly impossible to divine. As for Mrs. Heywood, she was still in ignorance, so well had things been managed by the Elmsleys, that any of the fearful scenes had occurred. She still believed her husband to be at the farm.

But, as it was not likely she could much longer remain in ignorance of what had been the subject of conversation with every one around her, it was advised by Von Vottenberg, that, as the warmth of spring was now fully developed, and all dread of the Indians resuming their hostile visit, at an end, she should be conveyed back to the cottage, the pure air around which, was much more likely to improve her health, than the confined atmosphere of the Fort. She had accordingly been removed thither early in May, accompanied by her daughter and Catherine.

Ronayne, of course, become once more a daily visitor, and soon beneath his hand, the garden began again to a.s.sume the beautiful garb it had worn at that season, for the last two years. The interviews of the lovers here, freed from the restraints imposed upon them while in the Fort, had resumed that fervent character which had marked them on the afternoon of the day when they so solemnly interchanged their vows of undying faith. They now no longer merely looked their love. They spoke of it--drank in the sweet avowal from each others lips, and luxuriated in the sweet pleasure it imparted. They were as the whole world to each other, and although language could not convey a warmer expression of their feelings, than had already gone forth from their lips, still was the repet.i.tion replete with a sweetness that never palled upon the ear.

Like the man who never tires of gazing upon his gold, so did they never tire of the treasures of the expressed love, that daily grew more intense in their hearts. And yet, notwithstanding this utter devotedness of soul--notwithstanding her flattering heart confessed in secret the fullest realization of those dreams which had filled and sustained her in early girlhood--albeit the a.s.surance the felt that, in Ronayne, she had found the impersonation of the imaginings of her maturer life, still whenever he urged her in glowing language to name the day when she would become his wife, she evaded an answer, not from caprice, but because she would not bring to him a heart clouded by the slightest tinge of that anxiety with which ignorance of her father's fate, could not fail to shade it. A painful circ.u.mstance which happened about that period, at length, however, brought affairs to a crisis.

It was a lovely evening towards the close of May, and after a somewhat sultry morning which had been devoted to a ride on horseback along the lakesh.o.r.e--Mrs. Headley and Mrs. Elmsley, who had accompanied them, having returned home, that Ronayne and his betrothed sat in the little summer-house already described. Mrs. Heywood who had been so far recovered from her weakness by the change of air, as to take slight exercise in the garden, supported by her daughter, and the young officer, had on this occasion expressed a wish to join them, in order that she might inhale the soft breeze that blew from the south, and enjoy once more the scenery of the long reach of the river, which wound its serpentine course from the direction of the farm. To this desire no other objection was offered, than what was suggested by her companions, from an apprehension that the fatigue of the ascent would be too great for her. She, however, persisted in her wish, declaring that she felt herself quite strong enough--an a.s.sertion for which her returning color gave some evidence. They ceased to oppose her. It was the first time the invalid had been in the summer-house, since the same period the preceding spring, and naturally a.s.sociating the recollection of her husband, with the familiar objects in the distance, she took her daughter's hand, and said in a low and husky voice, that proved how much she had overrated her own strength:

"How is it, Maria, my love, that we have seen nothing of your father, lately? I have never known him, since we have been in this part of the country, to be so long absent from us at one time."

"Nay, dear mamma," returned the pained girl, the tears starting to her eyes, in spite of her efforts to restrain them, "I do not exactly know what can detain him. Perhaps he is not at the farm," and here her tears forced their way--"you know, dearest mamma, that he is very fond of long hunting excursions."

"Yes, but, my child, why do you weep? Surely there is nothing in that to produce such emotion. He will soon be back again."

"Oh! yes, I hope so. Forgive me, my dear mamma, but I have a very bad head-ache, and never felt more nervous than I do this evening. Perhaps it is the effect of my ride in the heat of the sun. Shall we go on. It is nearly sunset, and I dread your being exposed to the night-air."

"Oh! it is so delicious," softly returned the invalid; "I feel as if I had not lived for the last twelve months, until now. Only a little while longer, shall I not, Mr. Ronayne? Perhaps I may never have an opportunity of ascending to this summer-house again."

During this short conversation, trifling in itself, but conveying, under the circ.u.mstances, so much subject for deep and painful reflections, the young officer had evinced much restlessness of manner, yet without interposing any other remark than to join Miss Heywood's entreaties that her mother would suffer herself to be conducted home, before the dew should begin to fall. In order, moreover, as much as possible to leave them uninterrupted in the indulgence of their feelings, he had from the first risen, and stood with his back to them, within the entrance of the summer house, and was now, with a view to drown their conversation to his own ear, whistling to Loup Garou, sitting on his haunches outside the garden-gate, looking fixedly at him.

Touched by the account he had received of the fidelity of the dog, he, had, with the consent of Sergeant Nixon, who was glad to secure for his favorite so kind a protector, become possessed of him from the moment of his return home; and time, which had in some degree blunted the sorrow of the animal for the loss of one master, rendered equally keen his instinct of attachment for the other. Within the month he had been his, every care had been taken by Ronayne himself, as well as by his servant, to wean the mourner from the grave of Le Noir, on which, for the first few days, he had lain, absorbed in grief--refusing all food, until, yielding at length to the voice of kindness, his memory of the past seemed to have faded wholly away.

Ronayne, however, from a fear of exciting unpleasant recollections in those who were not ignorant of the former position of the dog, had endeavoured as much as possible, to prevent him from crossing the river during his visits to the cottage; but, within the last four or five days, Loup Garou would not thus be kept back, and when expelled from the boat, had swam across, taking up his station at the gate, beyond which, however, he did not presume to pa.s.s, as if sensible that the delicate parterres within, were interdicted ground, and there generally lay squatted with his nose resting on the gra.s.s, between his outstretched fore-paws, until his master came forth on his return home.

The unexpected and encouraging whistle of the latter on this occasion, which had been given in pure unconsciousness, caused him to p.r.i.c.k his ears, and uttering a sharp cry, he sprang over the gate, bounding rapidly towards the eminence on which his master stood. About half-way between its base and the summit, there was a beautiful rose-bush which had been planted by Ronayne, and from which he had plucked two flowers, for the mother and daughter, during the ascent, and presented with a hand that was observed by Maria Heywood to tremble, and a cheek unwontedly pale.

On arriving opposite the rose-tree, the animal suddenly stopped, and putting his nose to the ground close under it, and sniffing almost furiously, uttered a prolonged and melancholy howl, while, with his fore-paws he began to scratch up the loose earth around, regardless of the voice of his master, who renewed his whistling, and called upon him almost angrily to desist.

Alarmed at this perseverance of action, the ensign descended to the spot--laid hands on Loup Garou, and sought to remove him, but the animal, strong of neck--full in the chest--and on the present occasion, under the influence of furious impulse, was not to be restrained.

The moaning of the dog--the descent-the corrective voice of his master, and the seeming struggle of both to attain opposite purposes, naturally attracted the attention of those above, and they both rose and neared to the doorway Ronayne had so recently quitted. Their horror may well be imagined when, on looking down, they found that the dog had already uncovered a human body, which, though disfigured and partially decomposed, filial and conjugal affection too clearly distinguished as the father of the one, the husband of the other!