Wau-nan-gee; Or, the Massacre at Chicago: A Romance of the American Revolution — John Shaqi
Wau-nan-gee; Or, the Massacre at Chicago: A Romance of the American RevolutionRichardson, Major (John)
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Wau-nan-gee; Or, the Massacre at Chicago: A Romance of the American Revolution
Richardson, Major (John)
Chicago (Ill.) -- Fiction; Fort Dearborn Massacre, Chicago, Ill., 1812 -- Fiction; Massacres -- Fiction
"Nay, beloved one," he exclaimed, as he pressed her to his heart,
"you know I did but jest. Then was my strong love for yourself, my
protection and my shield; and if that love was powerful then, what
irresistible strength has it attained now. Maria, I would fain
desire to live for ever, if but to show the vastness and enduringness
of my love for you."
"Ah! to what a trial am I to be subjected," she murmured, "and yet
I would not shun it. Why has the calm deep current of our joy been
thus cruelly interrupted, Ronayne? Should fate or circumstances
ever interpose to separate us, will you always entertain for me
the same ardent affection that you do now?"
"Heavens! why do you ask? What means this question? What is there
to divide us? nay, even separate us for an hour?"
"Oh! I cannot explain myself," she returned. "I know I speak wildly,
but I only mean in the possible event of anything of the kind. I
do not say that it may or will happen; but you know it might. None
of these things are impossible. We cannot control our destiny."
"Well, my love," remarked Ronayne, with a sigh, while an expression
of gravity and sadness pervaded his features, "it cannot be denied
that you have adopted some strange fancies this morning; firstly,
a desire to visit Hardscrabble, a place which you have always
hitherto carefully avoided; secondly, to see me dressed in a costume
which I have not worn since the occasion to which you have just
adverted; and thirdly, to frighten me to death by even hinting at
the possibility of separation. By the bye," he added, "it is a very
long time since we have seen Wau-nan-gee. You know he disappeared
the night of our marriage, and has never been seen since. I wonder
what can have become of him. Would you not like once more, Maria,
to see his handsome face? I shall never forget the eagerness with
which he picked up the wedding-ring which I had let fall in the
act of putting it on your finger, or the look of deep disappointment
when I rather abruptly--nay, somewhat rudely--snatched it from him,
as he tremblingly proceeded to complete that part of the ceremony
himself. It certainly looked very ominous."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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