Wau-nan-gee; Or, the Massacre at Chicago: A Romance of the American RevolutionRichardson, Major (John)
General
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
During this short and low conversation, Mrs. Elmsley and Von
Voltenberg had been talking aside on the same subject, the former
continuing to weep quietly but bitterly for the loss of her friend.
Ronayne now questioned the surgeon in regard to the cause of the
suddenness of their departure from the point where he had dismounted
to procure water.
Von Voltenberg replied that he scarcely knew himself, but his own
impression was that Mrs. Ronayne had started off her horse the
moment the shots were fired--he supposed in the very exaggerated
spirit of wantonness which had marked her actions ever since leaving
the fort. He had mechanically followed in courtesy, and the result
was as has been seen--her sudden captivity by the war party, who
had hurried her off, almost unresistingly, he knew not whither,
while he himself was taken in the direction in which Ronayne had
seen him.
"Did she scream--did she express alarm when taken?" asked Mrs.
Headley.
"No; I cannot say that she did," returned the Doctor, somewhat
surprised, and not comprehending the motive for the question; "but
you know Mrs. Ronayne is a woman of great nerve and presence of
mind. Moreover, as the thing was done in a moment, she must have
been too greatly astonished to understand her danger, for she came
abruptly on the Indians on turning the sharp angle of the road
leading up to the house."
Mrs. Headley's eyes met those of Ronayne with grave meaning. He
seemed to understand her, and when, with Mrs. Elmsley, she had
departed, he threw himself back upon his pillow, and, closing his
eyes, mused deeply. To the inquiry of Von Voltenberg, he replied
that, feeling disposed to rest a little, he would not trouble him
to sit up longer, but begged him to retire and to send Collins to
his barrack-room, leaving his door on the latch, in case he should
be summoned by the commanding officer for any purpose before morning.
As Mrs. Headley separated for the night from Mrs. Elmsley, and
approached her own door, a man in uniform came up, touched his cap
respectfully, and presented a packet.
"This parcel, Mrs. Headley, I received from Mrs. Ronayne on leaving
the fort this afternoon, with the direction that I should hand it
to you if she did not return by midnight. Alas! ma'am, we have
every reason to fear the dear lady will never return; twelve
o'clock has just struck, and I am come to fulfil my trust."
"Thank you, Serjeant Nixon. As you say, I fear there is little hope
of Mrs. Ronayne returning; but this package may possibly throw some
light on the cause of her absence."
"Oh! I hope so; yet how Should it, ma'am? she could not have known
what was going to happen when she went out."
"No--true, Nixon, you are right. I suppose it contains something
that she has borrowed, or that I have asked her for. Ah! I recollect
now--it is some embroidery she worked for me. Good night, serjeant;
or do you wish to see Captain Headley?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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