"My particular grief is of so floodgate and overbearing nature,
that it engluts and swallows other sorrows."
--_Othello._
Never did day close more cheerlessly on the hearts of men, than
that which succeeded to the occurrences detailed in our last chapter.
Yea, it was a terrible blow which had been inflicted upon all. The
sun of the existence of each, from the commanding officer to
the youngest drummer-boy, had been dimmed; and many a weather-beaten
soldier, grown grey in the natural apathy of age, now found himself
unable to restrain the rising tear. Not a woman, not a child arrived
at the years of consciousness, but missed and mourned over the
absence of her who had been, not merely the favorite, but the
beloved of the whole garrison.
The young Virginian himself was, for the moment, the only exception
to this mental anguish. When taken up from the ground to which he
had fallen, and borne to his room, he was in a high fever and
delirious from excitement--unconscious of everything around. He
did not manifest a sense of the nature and extent of his grief by
exclamations of despair, or reference to the past, but lay like
one stupified, his cheek highly flushed, his eyes fixed and upturned,
his hands clasped across his chest, his breathing scarcely audible,
and seemingly without the power of combination of thought, or the
exercise of memory.
When Von Voltenberg soon afterwards followed, he at once saw that
congestion of the brain was rapidly forming, and immediately prepared
to bleed him. The room, which, first filled with sorrowing soldiers
and their wives, not only excluded the necessary air, but impeded
action, was now urgently requested to be cleared, and none remained
but Mrs. Headley, Mrs. Elmsley, Mr. Ronayne's servant Catherine,
and Corporal Collins, who, having been relieved from his duty as
orderly, had entreated the surgeon to permit him to render what
service might be required during the young officer's illness. There
was no fastidious or misplaced delicacy here. Mrs. Headley had ever
felt as a mother towards the Virginian, Mrs. Elmsley as a sister,
and, even had this not been the case, the strong affection they
bore to his wife would have led them to attend the sick couch of
the husband. One supported his shoulder as he was raised in his
bed, the other took his extended hand, while Corporal Collins,
looking much paler and more frightened than either of them, held
the basin. If Von Voltenberg was not particularly given to fasting,
or loved the punch made of the horrid whiskey distilled in those
days in the west, he was, nevertheless, a skilful surgeon. With a
steady hand he now divided the vein, when forth gushed a stream of
blood so dark and discolored that the significant and triumphant
shake of the head which he gave clearly indicated what would have
been the result had the bleeding been delayed much longer.
Greatly relieved by the removal of the oppressive weight, the
unhappy ensign opened his eyes, and became sensible of objects,
but it was only that consciousness might render him even more keenly
alive to the horror of his position. Each article of furniture and
dress around the room brought increased desolation to his heart.
There was the harp Maria was wont to touch with such exquisite
grace. There was the dress she had thrown off to assume her riding
habit--for it will be recollected that the officers of that post
had no gilded suites of apartments at their command, but barely a
couple of barrack rooms for the married men, and one for the single.
Now a shoe caught his eye, now a glove, a hat, a slipper, her
dressing-case; even the tiny thimble with which she had worked the
linen upon his back; each and all of these, endearing yet painful
to the sight from the recollections they brought up, he glanced at
alternately, until his feelings were so wrought upon that he was
almost frantic.
"Take those things away!" he cried, starting up and pointing to
them; "I cannot endure the sight. They will kill me--ay, worse than
kill--tear my heart-strings with slow agony. Ah! dear Mrs.
Headley--Mrs. Elmsley--both of you, who loved Maria so well--can
you not understand the pangs I suffer! Yesterday I could have defied
the world in the vain pride of my happiness and strength; to-day
I feel that I am more wretched than the slave that tugs at his
chain--more feeble than a child. Would to heaven that I could die
within this hour! Oh, God! oh, God! oh, God! how shall I endure
this!"
He turned on his side, buried his face in the pillow, and sobbed
and wept, until every one around had caught the deep infection of
his profound suffering. The lips of Corporal Collins, as he stood
stiff in his military attitude, were closely compressed, and his
brow was contracted. A sympathy, traceable on each quivering muscle,
was evidently struggling for mastery, and he turned abruptly round.
Had others taken time from their own sorrow to watch his next
movement, they might have seen him raise his hand to his lips, and
drain deeply from a flask he had taken from the bosom of his uniform.
Mrs. Elmsley, with her face buried in her hands, leaned against
one of the foot-posts of the bed; and Mrs. Headley--the majestic
Mrs. Headley, with more complex feelings at her heart than actuated
the others--knelt at the head of the bed, laid her hand upon the
shoulder of the patient, and conjured him, in tones that marked
her own deep sorrow, to bear the trial like a man, and not destroy
himself by unavailing grief. Yet, even as she spoke, the tears fell
copiously upon the bed.
"Mrs. Headley," said Von Voltenberg, who afterwards admitted that,
in the whole course of his practice, he had never been similarly
touched, "do not check him. Let him give full vent to this emotion,
for painful as it now is, both to himself and to us who witness
it, this outburst once exhausted, the crisis once past, there will
be less fear of a return. See, already the paroxysm is weaker--he
is more calm--both mind and body are worn out, and if he can but
sleep for a few hours, although he may perhaps awaken to more acute
sorrow, no danger to his life need be apprehended."
Notwithstanding this remark was made in little more than a whisper,
it was distinctly heard by the sufferer. Suddenly starting up again
in his bed, he turned quickly round to the surgeon, and said, in
a tone of reproach--
"And is this all the consolation you have to offer me? What! tell
me that I shall awaken to keener pain than that which now racks my
being, and drag on a miserable life! Of what value that life to
me? But stay, my mind is not yet itself, or how is it that I have
not yet questioned you about my wife! Dear Von Voltenberg!" and he
threw the hand of the recently-punctured arm upon the shoulder of
the surgeon, "what news have you of Maria? Tell me of her safety
say that you have rescued her and that I shall see her again, and
I will for ever bless the voice that saves me from despair. Oh,
Von Voltenberg! speak, speak! surely you could never have had the
baseness to desert her. How were you taken? how have you escaped?
and why alone?"
"Poor Ronayne! would to God that I could give you consolation; but,
alas! I cannot. She fell into the hands of the Indians before I
did, and I saw her borne rapidly to the rear of the farm-house; me
they took to the road where you saw me. From that moment I
never once beheld her; but reassure yourself, all may yet be well.
True, she is a prisoner, but I apprehend no violence, for the
Indians offered none to myself, and I thought that they showed
unaccountable moderation to you, never firing a shot when you had
so completely baffled them in the chase. It was that which gave me
confidence to attempt my own escape, when I saw them all pressing
forward to secure you, leaving me altogether unguarded. But we will
speak of this no more to-night. You must sleep, Ronayne, if you
would have strength to enter upon action to-morrow. From the
appearance of their encampment, not twenty paces in rear of the
spot where you beheld me, I have reason to think that it has been
established there many days, and that Mrs. Ronayne may yet be
rescued, for the party of Indians does not exceed five-and-twenty
men. What they want is, doubtless, ransom, a few blankets or guns."
"Oh! say you so; bless you for that!" continued the Virginian,
eagerly; "yes, I will be calm--seek rest to restore me for the
morning; I will see Captain Headley, and entreat him to let me take
out a detachment. Oh! he will not refuse me. Do you think he will,
Mrs. Headley? Surely you will plead for me. I know twenty brave
fellows who will cheerfully volunteer for the duty."
"Alas!" said Mrs. Headley, with a deep despondency at her heart,
"I fear I can give you no encouragement there, Ronayne; I am quite
satisfied, indeed, that Headley will not suffer a man to leave the
fort at this crisis."
"Crisis! what crisis!" interrupted the youth vehemently. "Obdurate
man, has the past not cured him of his martinetism? By heaven, let
him refuse me, and I, alone and without permission, will go in
search of my wife. Fool, fool that I was to return now without
her; but I had hoped she was here;" and again he burst into another
wild agony of grief.
Corporal Collins touched his cap and advanced a pace forward.
"The Captain said this afternoon that the next time your honor left
the fort you should never return to it. I thought it was my duty,
your honor, to tell you, for I couldn't make out what he meant."
"Oh! he did, did he?" muttered Ronayne, with sudden calm. "Well,
be it so!"
"Corporal Collins," said Mrs. Headley sternly to him, as she arose
from her kneeling posture, "you would have done better to have held
your peace on a matter which you say you do not comprehend. Mr.
Ronayne has annoyance sufficient without your misinterpreting to
him an observation of his commanding officer, which, in all
probability, was made in any other spirit than that which your
words would convey."
The corporal made a respectful obeisance and withdrew into the
corridor, rebuked.
"Ronayne," pursued Mrs. Headley, "I can make all allowance for your
excited feelings. I will speak to Headley on the matter; and,
although I cannot hold out to you any hope that he either will even
acknowledge the necessity, much less take the action you desire,
I feel perfectly assured that, when you have heard his reasons,
you will agree with us both that it would neither be of avail nor
politic to take a step of this kind for the recovery of her whom
we all deplore--God knows, no one more bitterly than myself."
"Mrs. Headley, you surprise me; I can scarcely believe that I
understand you rightly. I had always thought your feelings towards
Maria were those of a mother for her child?"
"Even so, Ronayne. You judged them rightly. As a mother I have
loved, and love her still; but we will talk of all this to-morrow
morning, and I leave you now to the quiet, if rest is not to be
hoped for, that you so much require; for Headley needs all his
officers in important council to-morrow, prior to holding a second
immediately after with our Indian allies. Nay," seeing that all
present looked surprised, and a desire to know wherefore, "it were
idle to enter upon the subject now; sufficient be it to know that
it is one of the deepest importance, and that, even should you be
carried there in a litter, Ronayne--but God forbid the necessity!--you
must be present."
"At what hour does that council assemble, Mrs. Headley?" asked the
ensign.
"At midday, I believe. Winnebeg has been desired to bring the chiefs
to the glacis, between the flagstaff and the southern block-house,
at two o'clock precisely."
"What! Winnebeg returned?" exclaimed Ronayne, as he impetuously
rose in his bed. "Ah, then there is hope. He will aid me in my
enterprise. And what of Wau-nan-gee? Is he, too, here, Mrs. Headley?
Yes, he must be. Oh, this is indeed providential! I shall rise with
the dawn, and seek them both. Everything can be accomplished, if
at all, before the hour of our own council arrives."
Mrs. Headley cast a look of profound sadness on him, as, taking
his hot hand in hers, she said--
"Wau-nan-gee did not come with Winnebeg, Ronayne; but there is
reason to believe that he is not far from the camp of the
Pottowatomies, for he was seen yesterday. Yet he will not aid you
in your proposed enterprise."
"Oh! Mrs. Headley, you do him wrong--indeed you do. Wau-nan-gee
loves Maria too well not to risk his life for her. You little know
the strength of his generous attachment, if you doubt his interest
in her preservation."
"I know, that his love for her is great--perhaps too much so," she
replied, emphatically, after a moment's pause, while bending over
to adjust his pillow, and in a voice so subdued as to be inaudible
to all but himself.