You see this chase is hotly followed.
--_Henry V._
The spot called Hardscrabble was distant about two miles from Fort
Dearborn, and had been the scene of a recent and bloody tragedy.
They who are familiar with the events that occurred during a
different and earlier phase of this tale are aware that, not four
months previously, the father of Mrs. Ronayne had, as well as a
faithful domestic, been cruelly murdered there, during a period of
profound peace, by a party of Winnebagoes, and that, on the removal
of his body to the grounds of the cottage, near the fort, in which
his wife and daughter resided, the house had been hermetically
closed. The outrage upon Mr. Heywood had taken place early in April.
It was now, as has already been said, the 7th of August, and within
that period Mrs. Ronayne had drunk deeply of the cup of reciprocated
wedded bliss, she had also known the anguish of the severance of
every natural tie. Both her parents were buried near the
summer-house, and, had it not been for the fervent love of her
husband--a love that daily increased in purity and intensity--even
the great strength of mind for which she was remarkable would have
ill enabled her to endure the twofold shock. But, even with all
his love, the natural melancholy of her character became tinged
with an additional shade of seriousness, which, far from being
displeasing, or detracting from the sweetness of her most expressive
and faultless face, seemed to invest it with a newer and a holier
charm. The perfection of her classic style of beauty given as Maria
Heywood, may well justify a repetition here.
Above the middle size, her figure was at once gracefully and richly
formed. Her face, of a chiselled oval, was of a delicate olive
tint, which well harmonized with eyes of a lustrous hazel, and hair
of glossy, raven black, of rare amplitude and length. A mouth
classically small, bordered by lips of coral fulness, disclosed,
when she smiled, teeth white and even; while a forehead, high and
denoting strong intellect, combined with a nose somewhat more
aquiline than Grecian, to give dignity to a countenance that might
otherwise have exhibited too much of a character of voluptuous
beauty. Yet, although her features, when lighted up by vivacity or
emotion, were radiant with intelligence, their expression when in
repose was of a pensive cast, that, contrasted with her general
appearance, gave to it a charm, addressed at once to sense and
sentiment, of which it is impossible by description to give an
adequate idea. A dimpled cheek--an arm, hand, and foot, that might
have served the statuary as a model, completed a person which,
without exaggeration, might be deemed almost, if not wholly,
faultless.
For some minutes, as the party rode along the road bordering on
the serpentine branch of the Chicago leading to Hardscrabble, Mrs.
Ronayne, apprehensive that her husband might attribute any appearance
of depression of spirits to physical illness, and insist on postponing
her ride to some future occasion, fell, as most people do who are
sensible that for the first time in their lives they are acting
with insincerity, into the very opposite extreme. With a
consciousness of wrong at her heart--with a soul distracted with
uncertainty and hesitancy as to the result of the course she was
pursuing--she indulged in a gaiety that, in her, was wholly unnatural.
She rattled, talked, laughed with ill-timed volubility--offered to
make wagers with the surgeon and Ronayne that she would take her
horse over the highest fallen log, or, if they preferred it, swim
with either of them across the river, and lastly proposed that they
should start together and see who would first reach the farm-house.
All this time the deepest scarlet was on her cheek, her manner
betrayed the most feverish excitement, and there was unwonted
brilliancy in her eye.
Ronayne looked at her earnestly. Suddenly a change came over her,
for she had remarked, and felt confused under the penetrating glance
which seemed to tell her that she did not feel that lightness of
heart with the semblance of which she was seeking to deceive him.
For the first time since his marriage--nay, for the first time
since his acquaintance with her--and this had been of more than
two years' date--he felt pain--pain inflicted by _her_. There was
evidently some secret thought at her heart which she withheld; and
she who had never before concealed a passing emotion of her soul,
was now wrapped up in an unaccountable mystery.
In proportion with her husband's increasing gravity, Mrs. Ronayne's
spirits became depressed, until in reality enfeebled by her strong
previous excitement, she looked pale as death itself, and expressed
a desire for a glass of water.
Deeply touched and alarmed by the sudden change which had taken
place in his wife's appearance and manner, Ronayne threw himself
from his horse, and, being provided with a silver drinking cup,
flew to the river to fill it. In order to obtain the liquid pure
and cool, however, it was necessary to turn a small and acute point
of underwood, a little to the right, where a few rude stone steps
led to a sort of natural well, where, even in the hottest day of
summer, the beverage came fresh as from a coral fountain. It was
a spot well known to every frequenter of that road, and few passers-by
ever drank from any other source.
The young officer was in the act of dipping his cup into the stream,
when three shots were distinctly heard in the neighborhood of
Hardscrabble, then about half a mile distant, and after the interval
of a few seconds, the rapid galloping of horses' hoofs behind him.
With an inconceivable dread of he knew not what at his heart, he
sprang round the point of wood to gain the road where he had left
his wife and Von Voltenberg. To his astonishment both were gone.
They were the hoofs of their horses he had heard--his own was tied
to a tree, as he had left him, and making endeavors to free himself,
that he might follow his companions.
We will not attempt to describe the feelings of Ronayne. The mere
disappearance of the party might have been accounted for, had it
not been for the shots which preceded. But the association was
terrible. It bewildered him--almost deprived him of thought and
judgment. Evidently, there was an enemy in the neighborhood; but,
even if so, why the obvious advance into the very heart of danger;
for, from the direction of the sound, he could have no doubt that
one horse, at least, had taken the direction of Hardscrabble, and
that, from the peculiar and rapid footfall of the animal, he felt
assured was his wife's.
What could this mean? Mrs. Ronayne's he knew to be a very spirited
young horse, and the only manner in which he could explain her
absence was by inferring that, startled by the report of the
firearms, he had suddenly run away with her, and that Von Voltenberg
had followed as speedily as he could to check him.
He dashed the cup of water to the earth, mounted, and dug his spurs
in the flanks of his horse, when the latter, bounding forward with
agony under the exquisite sense of pain, seemed rather to leap than
run over the ground Fifty yards from the point where he started,
something glaringly white on the ground frightened the animal and
caused him to shy so abruptly, even while continuing his speed,
that Ronayne, excellent horseman as he was, had great difficulty
in preserving his seat. Rapid as was the glance obtained of the
object, he at once recognised it for the habit collar of his wife,
and therefore all uncertainty was at an end as to the direction
her horse had taken. His heart was full, but he had scarcely power
to think. A thousand incidents and fears seemed to crowd upon his
brain at the same time, and in such confusion that he felt as though
his very reason were deserting him. The recollection of the strong
presentiment of evil which he had expressed in regard to this ride
came with tenfold force on his mind, and scarce left a hope to
weigh against the fears that overwhelmed him.
Still he dashed on, straining his eyes as though he would have
doubled the extent of his vision, looking searchingly into every
opening into the wood, and endeavoring to distinguish, amid the
rapid sounds produced by his own horse's hoofs, those of his
companions. It seemed an age while he passed over the ground that
kept him from the fatal farm-house. At length the orchard attached
to it came in view, and then the garden, and on the broad lane
which separated both, the large walnut tree the branches of which,
two months before covered with snowy blossoms, were now bent low
by the weight of their own fruitfulness. In another instant, he
was in the centre of the open space. Uncertain what course to follow
now, he checked his generous steed so suddenly and fiercely as to
throw him upon his haunches. Everything was still. Beyond the
breathing of his own horse, there was not a sound to indicate the
existence of animal life. The Indians had evidently destroyed all
the stock on the farm since its abandonment, and melancholy appeared
here to have established universal dominion. This suspense was
torture--the silence horrible. He would rather have heard the Indian
scalp-cry--heard the death-shriek--anything, provided it would
guide him to the form of her he loved. Beyond this forest there
was nothing that could be called a road. A few narrow footpaths
diverged from it into the forest, but these were merely sufficiently
broad for the passage by Indian file, except on the immediate verge
of the river, where horse and rider might barely escape collision
with the branches. The bank, over which this apology for a highway
ran, was composed of a sandy soil, so that sound was not absolutely
necessary to the assurance that horsemen were on that road. From
its absence, however, in every other quarter, the distracted officer
was naturally led to infer that they whom he so anxiously sought
had taken that direction, and thither he determined to follow. But
a second thought induced him to turn the angle of the house, before
leaving, that he might not have to reproach himself later with
having left anything unexamined behind. To his great surprise he
found the door, which he had himself hermetically closed many weeks
before, wide open. His first purpose, after sweeping his eye rapidly
but keenly around the half-trodden cornfield in the rear, was to
enter. This, in order not to lose time, and the rude aperture being
sufficiently large, he did without dismounting.
As his horse sprang in, he thought he could distinguish a moccasined
foot just at the moment of its hurried disappearance into the loft
above, but everything was so still that he felt satisfied his
distempered imagination and excited feeling, running on one
all-absorbing subject, had deceived him. He looked around.
Two dark objects attracted his attention, in the farthest corner
from him, of the room, the shutters of which being closed, yielded
but an indistinct light to one coming suddenly from the open air.
He moved his horse, stooping low himself as he advanced to that
end of the rude apartment, and beheld to his surprise, two small
trunks of black leather, on one of which was painted in rather
large letters "Maria Heywood." The other had no name upon it, but
he could have pledged his existence that, not one week previously,
he had seen it in his own apartment, and that it was his. That,
however, might be a mistake, for it was difficult to distinguish
with certainty; but in regard to the proprietorship of the other
there could be no question, and the only reasonable manner in which
he could account for their being there at that moment, was, that
the trunks had been in use by Mr. Heywood at the period of his
murder, and that, having been overlooked by the Indians, they had
been locked up, on closing the farm-house altogether.
It must not be supposed that the young officer took as much time
to comprehend and draw inferences from what he saw, as we have
taken in the description. A few rapid glances only were thrown
around, when, satisfied that there was no more to aid him in his
search, he turned his horse's head to gain the broader pathway
which, it has already been said, bordered on the river. Again he
sallied from the house, but his emotions of alarm and surprise may
be conceived--not springing from any personal consideration, but
from the certainty he now entertained of the probable fate of his
wife--when, on gaining the exterior, he perceived, not fifty yards
from him, a party of Indians, about twenty in number, some scattered
along the edge of the wood, and others peering cautiously around
the corners of the outbuildings. Although his heart sank within
him at the sight, and the image of his Maria was at the moment
uppermost in his thoughts--stood palpably before him as she looked
at the very moment when she stood first equipped for this most
unfortunate ride--his keen and collected eye could distinguish the
very color of the war paint, for they were in full costume, and
the peculiar decorations that told them to be of their old and
inveterate enemies the Winnebagoes.
There are epochs in life when the thoughts of years crowd upon the
mind in little more than moments. All the past then seems to flash
full upon the recollection, and in such rapid yet distinct succession,
that the only surprise is how the brain can sustain the torturing
and confounding weight. No one incident of the slightest interest
had ever occurred to his wife and himself that Ronayne did not
recall vividly, keenly, even while gazing on those men of blood;
and he suffered anguish of heart, physical as well as mental, which
none can understand who have not experienced that rending asunder
of the soul which follows the loss of that in which the soul alone
lives. Presently, as his quick eye glanced rapidly along the wood,
he saw, to his increasing dismay, Von Voltenberg brought forward
to its edge by two other Indians leading the horse by the bridle.
He was, evidently, a prisoner. Oh, how he strained his eyes with
painful, with agonizing earnestness, to behold her whom he expected
to behold next, and how rapidly rose the feeling of hope and
exultation when he found no second prisoner appear. He now felt
assured that his last chance of recovering the lost one lay in his
pursuing the course he had at first selected. The prospect of
eluding his enemies and gaining that road was poor, for there was
but one way open to him--almost in their very teeth--yet this he
was resolved to try. Death was before him if he hesitated; although,
had he beheld his wife a prisoner, he would rather have shared a
similar fate than abandoned her in her extremity, now that a hope
had sprung up in his heart--his energies were aroused, and renewed
activity braced his limbs.