Books: Hardscrabble
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John Richardson >> Hardscrabble
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"Rest with me to decide!" exclaimed the warm-hearted girl
as she threw herself into her mother's arms. "Oh, how
good of you both thus to consult me, whose duty it is to
obey. But do not think that it is any privation for me
to leave this. I cannot claim the poor merit of the
sacrifice. I have no enjoyment in cities. Give me the
solitude of nature, books, and music, and I will live in
a wigwam without regret."
"Dear enthusiast," said Mrs. Heywood, pressing her fondly
to her heart; "I knew well in what spirit would be your
answer. You decide then for the Far West?"
"Oh, yes, dear mamma! the Far West for me--no Europe.
Give me the tall, dense forests of our own noble land!
I desire no other home--long have I pictured to myself
the vast lakes--the trackless woods and the boundless
prairies of that region of which I have read so much,
and now," she concluded, with exaltation, "my fondest
wishes will be realized, and I shall pass my life in the
midst of them. But, dear papa, to what particular spot
do we go?"
"To Chicago, my noble girl! It is the remotest of our
Western possessions, and quite a new country. There I
may hope to pass unheeded, but how will you, dear Maria,
endure being buried alive there, when so many advantages
await you here?"
"Only figuratively, papa," she replied with a pensive
smile stealing over her fine intellectual features. "Have
no fear for me on that score, for depend upon it, with
so much natural beauty to interest, it will be my own
fault, if I suffer myself to be buried alive. What think
you, dear mamma?"
"I think with you, my child," replied Mrs. Heywood,
looking approvingly at her daughter, "that it is our
duty, as it assuredly will be our pleasure to accompany
your father wherever he may go."
It was now arranged that Mr. Heywood, furnished with a
considerable sum of money in gold, should set out alone
on the following night for their new destination, and
make the necessary preparations for their reception,
while his wife, through her agent, should endeavor to
dispose of the estate. As it would require some time
for this, and as the arrangements at Chicago could not
well be completed within several months, it was settled
that they should meet at Albany, early in the following
autumn, where they should proceed to take possession of
their new abode. For his better security and freedom from
interruption, Mr. Heywood, while travelling, was to assume
a feigned name, but his own was to be resumed immediately
after his arrival at Chicago, for neither he nor his
family could for a moment think of increasing the suspicion
of guilt, by continuing a name that was not their own;
and, finally, as a last measure of precaution, the free
servants of the establishment, had, with the exception
of Catharine, whom they were to take with them, been
discharged, while a purchaser having fortunately been
found, the slaves, with the estate, were handed over to
a new master, proverbial for his kindness to that usually
oppressed race. By these means they found themselves
provided with funds more than adequate to all their future
wants, the great bulk of the sum arising from the sale
of the estate being vested in two of the most stable
banks of the Union.
With the money he took with him, carefully deposited in
his saddlebags, for he performed the whole of the journey
on horseback, Mr. Heywood had caused the cottage already
described, to be built and furnished from Detroit, in
what, at that period, and so completely at the ultima
thule of American civilization, was considered a style
of great luxury. He had, however, shortly prior to his
setting out for Albany, purchased several hundred acres
of land, about two miles up the Southern branch of the
Chicago, leaving instructions with Le Noir, whom he had
engaged for a long term of service, to erect upon it a
log building and outhouses. This he had been induced to
do from that aching desire for physical exertion which
had been familiar to him from boyhood, and which he felt
could never be sufficiently indulged within the limited
compass of the little village itself--subjected as he
must be to the observation of the curious and the
impertinent. He returned from Albany after a few months'
absence, in the autumn of 1809, bringing with him his
friends who occupied the cottage, while he himself obtained
their assent that he should inhabit the farm house,
completed soon after his return. Here he cut with his
own hands, many a cord of the wood that his servants
floated down in rafts, not only for his own family, but
to supply the far more extensive wants of the garrison,
with which, however, he had little or no intercourse,
beyond that resulting from his business relations.
Such was the condition of things at the period at which
our narrative has opened. Maria Heywood had now been
three years an occupant of the cottage, and within that
time solitude and habits of reflection had greatly matured
her mind, as years had given every womanly grace to her
person. The past had also tended much to form her
character, upon which the development of physical beauty
so often depends. At her first debut into society at
Charleston, in her fourteenth year--an age that would
have been considered premature, but for the rapidity with
which form and intellect are known to ripen in that
precocious climate--she had received, but listened with
indifference to the vapid compliments of men whose
shallowness she was not slow to detect, and whose homage
conveyed rather a fulsome tribute to her mere personal
beauty, than a correct appreciation of her heart and
understanding. Not that it is to be inferred that she
prided herself unduly upon this latter, but because it
was by that standard of conduct chiefly, that she was
enabled to judge of the minds of those who evinced so
imperfect a knowledge of the female heart, when, emerging
from the gaiety of girlhood, it passes into the earnestness
of womanly feeling.
But although cold--almost repellant to all who had poured
their ephemeral and seldom varying homage in her ear--no
woman's heart ever beat with more kind--more generous--more
devoted sentiments, than her own. Possessed of a vivid
imagination, which the general quietude of her demeanor
in a great degree disowned, she had already sketched
within her glowing mind her own beau ideal, whose image
was a talisman to deaden her heart against the influence
of these soulless realities.
With such sentiments as these had Maria Heywood cheerfully
consented to accompany her parents to that secluded spot,
from which there was little probability of a speedy
return; but solitude, so far from weakening the strong
impressions that had entwined themselves around her heart,
from the moment of her emancipation from childhood, only
served to invest them with new power. The more her feelings
repined--the more expanded her intellect--the stronger
became the sense of absence of one who could enter into,
and in some degree, give a direction to all her thoughts
and emotions--sharing with her the rich fruit that
springs from the consciousness of kindred associations
of mind. But this was the secret of her own heart--of
the heart of one whose personal attractions were well
suited to the rich and overflowing character of her soul,
and who had now attained that age which gives eloquent
expression to every movement of the ripely moulded form.
Above the middle size, the figure of Maria Heywood was
at once gracefully and nobly 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. A small mouth, bordered by lips of
coral fulness, disclosed, when she smiled, teeth white
and even; while a forehead, high for her sex, combined
with a nose, somewhat more aquiline than Grecian, to give
dignity to a countenance that might, otherwise, have
exhibited 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.
The habits of Mr. Heywood were of that peculiar nature
--his desire of isolation from every thing that could be
called society was so obvious, that for the first year
of the residence of the family at Chicago, scarcely any
intercourse had been maintained between the inmates of
the cottage and the officers' wives; and it was only on
the occasion of the commanding officer giving a party,
to celebrate the anniversary of American Independence on
the following year, that the first approach to an
acquaintance had been made. It had been deemed by him a
matter of duty to invite all of the few American families
that were settled in the neighborhood, and of course the
Heywoods were of the number. On the same principle of
conventionalism the invitation was accepted, and not
slight was the surprise of the ladies of the garrison,
when they found in the secluded occupants of the cottage,
to whom they had assigned a doubtful position in society,
those to whom no effort of their own prejudice could
refuse that correct estimate, which quiet dignity without
ostentation, is ever certain to command.
At the announcement of the names of Mrs. and Miss Heywood,
the somewhat stately Mrs. Headley was disposed to receive
with hauteur the inmates of the cottage, but no sooner
had Maria Heywood, accompanied by her gentle mother,
entered the apartment with the easy and composed air of
one to whom the drawing-room is familiar, than all her
prejudices vanished, and with a heart warming towards
her, as though she, had been the cherished sister of her
love, she arose, pressed her hand affectionately and
welcomed her to the Fort with the sincerity of a generous
and elevated nature, anxious to repair its own wrong.
From that period, both by the wife of the commandant,
and by Mrs. Elmsley--the only two ladies in the garrison,
Maria Heywood was as much liked and courted, as she had
previously been disregarded. To deny that the noble girl
did in some measure exult in this change, would be to do
wrong to the commendable pride of a woman, who feels that
the unjust prejudice which had cast a false shadow over
her recent life, has at last been removed, and that the
value, of which she was modestly conscious, began to be
appreciated.
It was at this party that her acquaintance with the young
Southerner had commenced, and it is needless to trace
the gradual rise of an attachment which similarity of
tastes had engendered. Naturally of an ardent disposition,
the youth had, as we have remarked on a previous occasion,
hitherto loved to indulge in the excitement of the wild
sports of the forest and the prairie, as the only present
means of giving freedom to that spirit of enterprise, so
usually wedded to the generous and unoccupied mind; but,
from the period of his acquaintance with Maria Heywood,
a total change had come over his manner of life. The
hunt--the chase--and the cup that so often succeeded,
were now almost wholly abandoned, and his only delight
NOW in excursions was to ride with her across the prairie,
or to pull her in his light skiff either along the shores
of the Michigan, or through the various branches of the
river, contemplating the beautiful Heavens by moonlight,
and indulging in speculations, which were not more the
fruit of romantic temperament, than of the intensity of
Love. He had, moreover, four dogs trained to draw her in
a light sledge of his own device and construction, in
winter. In these rambles she was usually accompanied
either by Mrs. Headley, or by the wife of his friend and
brother subaltern, and after the invigorating exercise
of the day, his evenings, whenever he could absent himself
from the Fort, were devoted within the cottage to books,
magic, and the far more endearing interchange of the
resources of their gifted minds. In summer there were
other employments of a domestic character, for in addition
to their rides, walks, and excursions on the water, both
found ample scope for the indulgence of their partiality
for flowers, in the taste for practical horticulture
possessed by Ronayne, under whose care had grown the
luxuriant beauty which every where pervaded the little
garden, and made it to the grateful girl a paradise in
miniature.
Thus had passed nearly two years, and insensibly, without
a word of love having been breathed, each felt all the
security which a consciousness of being beloved alone
could yield, and that assurance imparted to their manner
and address when alone a confiding air, the more
endearing from the silence of their lips. But although
no word uttered by themselves proclaimed the existence
of the secret and holy compact, not only were they fully
sensible of it themselves, but it was obvious to all
--even to the least observant of the garrison, and many
were there, both among the soldiers and their wives--by
all of whom the young ensign was liked for his openness
and manliness of character--who expressed a fervent hope
that the beautiful and amiable Miss Heywood would soon
become the bride of their favorite officer. This it was,
which had led the men of the fishing-party to express in
their way, their sorrow for the young lady, when she
should hear of the events at the farm-house, even while
passing their rude encomiums on the sweetness of
disposition of her, whom they already regarded as the
wife of their young officer.
It was nearly noon, and Lieutenant Elmsley had not yet
made his appearance with the promised report. Maria
Heywood had, after passing an hour with her mother,
returned to the breakfast-room, which it will be
recollected opened immediately upon the barrack-square.
Her friend being engaged with her domestic affairs, which
every lady was at that period in a measure compelled to
superintend, she had thrown herself (still in her morning
dishabille) on a couch with a book in her hand, but with
a mind wholly distracted from the subject of its pages.
After continuing some time thus, a prey to nervous
anxiety, as much the result of Elmsley's long absence as
of her former fears, the sound of the fifes and drums
fell startlingly, she knew not wherefore, upon her ear
and drew her to the door. The men were falling in, and
in the course of a few minutes the little line was formed
a few yards to her left, with its flanks resting on
either range of building, so that the mess-room door,
then open, was distinctly visible in front. At the same
moment, Captain Headley and the lieutenant, followed by
Corporal Nixon and the other men of the fishing-party--
Green only excepted--passed out of the orderly room on
her right, moved across, and took up their position in
front of the parade.
"God bless me, Maria, what is that, or is it his ghost!"
suddenly and unguardedly exclaimed Mrs. Elmsley, who
had that moment joined her friend--placing her arm at
the same time round her waist.
"What do you mean, Mar--" but before Maria Heywood could
complete her sentence, all power of speech was taken from
her in the emotion with which she regarded what, after
a momentary glance, met her view.
It was her lover, fully equipped for parade, and walking
towards the men with a calm and deliberate step, which
seemed to evince total unconsciousness that any thing
unusual had happened.
"Here is a chair, my love--you really tremble as if the
man was a ghost. Now then, we shall have a scene between
him and our amiable commandant."
"God forbid!" tremulously answered the almost bewildered
girl; "I am the cause of all."
"You! Stuff, Maria. What nonsense you talk, for a sensible
girl. How should you be the cause? but, positively,
Ronayne can never have been away from the Fort."
"Do you think so, Margaret?"
"I am sure of it. Only look at him. He is as spruce as
if he had only just come out of a band-box. But hush,
not a word. There, that's a dear. Lean your head against
my shoulder. Don Bombastes speaks!"
"No sign of Mr. Ronayne yet?" demanded Captain Headley,
his back turned to the slowly advancing officer, whose
proximity not one of the men seemed inclined to announce,
possibly because they feared rebuke for insubordination.
Mr. Elmsley, he pursued to that officer, who, acting on
a significant half-glance from his friend, was silent
also as to his approach. "Let a formal report of his
absence without leave, be made to me immediately after
the parade has been dismissed."
"Nay, sir," said the ensign, in his ordinary voice and
close in the ear of the speaker, "not as having been absent
from duty, I trust. I am not aware that I have ever missed
a guard or a parade yet, without your leave."
At the first sound of his voice, the surprised commandant
had turned quickly round, and there encountered the usual
deferential salute of his subordinate.
"But, Mr. Ronayne, what means this? Where, sir, have you
been? and, if not absent, why thus late? Do you know that
the men have already been paraded, and that when required
for your guard, you were not to be found?"
"The fatigues of the night, Captain Headley," returned
the young officer, with some hesitation of manner; "the
incessant watching--surely there--"
"I knew he had not been out of the Fort. Courage, Maria!
was audible to the men who were nearest to the speaker,
from Elmsley's doorway.
"I know what you would urge, Mr. Ronayne," remarked the
captain; you would offer this in plea for your late
appearance. I make all due allowance in the matter; but,
let me tell you, sir, that an officer who thoroughly
understands his duty, and consults the interests of the
service, would make light of these matters, in cases of
strong emergency."
"Poor Ronayne!" sighed Maria, to her friend. "This is
terrible to his proud spirit. In presence of the whole
of the men, too!"
"I told you, my dear, there would be a row, but never
fear--Elmsley be there. See, he is looking significantly
at us, as if to call our attention to what is passing."
The lieutenant had been no less astonished than the
captain, at the unexpected appearance of Ronayne--even
more so, indeed--because he had observed, without, however,
remarking on it, the cool and unhastened pace at which
he moved along the square, from the direction of the
mess-room. "Now it is coming," he thought, and half-
murmured to himself, as he saw the crimson gathering on
his brow, during the last harsh address of his superior.
"Captain Headley," said the young man, drawing himself
up to his full height, and somewhat elevating his voice,
for be had remarked there were other and dearer eyes upon
him, than those immediately around. "I WILL NOT be spoken
to in this manner, before the men. If you think I have
been guilty of a breach of duty or of discipline, I am
prepared to meet your charges before the proper tribunal,
but you shall not take the liberty of thus addressing me
in public parade. My sword, sir," and he unbuckled it,
and offered the handle, "is at, your disposal, but I deny
your further right."
"No, no, no!" shouted several men from the ranks
"No. no, no!" repeated almost every man of the fishing-
party, in even more energetic tones, while the commanding
officer was glancing his eye keenly and rapidly along
the little line, to detect those who had set the example
of insubordination.
"Ugh! wah! good soger!" came from one of a small party
of Indians in the rear, as the disconcerted captain
turned, frowningly, from the men in front to those who
had followed him from the orderly room, and now stood
grouped on the inner flank.
"What is the meaning of all this?" he cried, in a loud
and angry voice.
"Am I braved in my own command, and by my own men? Mr.
Elmsley, who are these Indians, and how came they in?"
"They are a part of the encampment without, sir. There
was no order given against their admission this morning,
besides it is Winnebeg, and you have said that the gates
of the Fort was to be open to him at all hours."
"Ah! Winnebeg, my friend, how do you do. I did not know
it was you or your people. You know you are always
welcome."
"How do, gubbernor," answered the chief, coming round
from the rear of the line, and taking the proffered
hand--"'Spose not very angry now--him good warrior--him
good soger," and he pointed to the young subaltern.
"Ensign Ronayne is, no doubt, very sensible to your good
opinion," remarked the captain, with evident pique; "but,
Winnebeg, as I am sure you never allow a white man to
interfere with you, when you find fault with your young
chiefs, you must let me do the same."
"What find him fault for?" asked the chief, with some
surprise; "brave like a devil!"
"Captain Headley," interposed the ensign, with some
impatience, "am I to surrender my sword, or resume my
duty?"
But the captain either could not, or would not give a
direct answer. "Can you give me a good reason, Mr.
Ronayne, why I should not receive your sword? Do you deny
that you have been guilty of neglect of duty?"
"In what?" was the brief demand.
"In being absent from the Fort, without leave, sir."
"Indeed! To substantiate that, you must bring proofs,
Captain Headley. Who," and he looked around him, as if
challenging his accuser, "pretends to have seen me beyond
these defences?"
The commandant was for some moments at a loss, for he
had not anticipated this difficulty. At length he resumed.
"Was it not to be absent without leave, that, when the
guard was all ready to be marched off, you were not to
be found?"
"Had the guard been marched off, or the parade even
formed, I should of course, have come justly under your
censure, Captain Headley; but it was not so--you ordered
the parade and guard-mounting for a later hour. I am here
at that hour."
"Hem!" returned the commandant, who was in some degree
obliged to admit the justice of the remark; "you defend
yourself more in the spirit of a lawyer, than of a soldier,
Mr. Ronayne, but all this difficulty is soon set at rest.
I require but your simple denial that you have been absent
from the Fort, within the last twenty-four hours. That
given, I shall be satisfied."
"And that, sir," was the firm reply of the youth, "I am
not disposed to give. I am not much versed in military
prudence, Captain Headley," he pursued, after a few
moments' pause, and in a tone of slight irony, which that
officer did not seem to perceive, "but at least sufficient
to induce me to reserve what I have to say for my defence.
You have charged me, sir, with having been absent from
the Fort without leave; and it is for you to prove that
fact before a competent authority."
"March off your guard, Mr. Ronayne," was the abrupt
rejoinder of the commandant, for he liked not the
continuation of a scene in which the advantage seemed
not to rest with him, but with the very party whom he
had sought to chasten; "Mr. Elmsley dismiss the parade.
I had intended promoting on the spot, Corporal Nixon and
private Collins for their conduct yesterday, but the
gross insubordination I have just seen, has caused me to
change my mind. Neither shall have the rank intended,
until the guilty parties are named. I give until the hour
of parade to-morrow for their production, and if, by that
time, their names are not laid before me, no such promotion
shall take place while I command the garrison. Dismiss
the men, sir. Here, Winnebeg, my good fellow, you have
come at a good moment. I have dispatches to send to
Detroit this very evening, and I know no one I can trust
so well as yourself."
"Good," was the answer, "Winnebeg always ready to do him
order--no angry more, gubbernor, with young chief,"
pointing to the ensign, as he moved off with his small
guard. "Dam good soger--you see dis?" and he touched his
scalping-knife with his left hand, and looked very
significantly.
"No, Winnebeg, not angry any more," was the reply; "but
how do you know him to be good soger? What has your
scalping-knife to do with it?"
"Winnebeg know all," said the chief gravely, as he laid
his heavy hand upon the shoulder of the commandant, "but
can't tell. Young chief say no, and Winnebeg love young
chief."
This remark forcibly struck Captain Headley, and brought
back to his mind, certain recollections. He, however,
asked no further question, but pointed, as they moved in
the direction of his own apartments, towards the sun,
showing by his gesture that it was not too early to take
the mid-day dram.
"Where the devil have you been, man, and with what
confounded impudence you got through the scrape," was
remarked at a distant part of the same ground, and at
the same moment with the conversation just given.
"How is Maria?" eagerly asked Ronayne. "When shall I see
her?"
"Well enough to hear all that passed between you and
Military Prudence," returned his friend; "but that is no
answer to my question."
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