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Richardson, John, 1796-1852

"Hardscrabble; or, the fall of Chicago. a tale of Indian warfare"

Oh! if you knew--"
"Ronayne--dearest Harry!" interrupted his betrothed--"I
have never said anything of this before to you, because,
after all, it is but an idle fancy, yet I cannot divest
myself of the idea that this Indian, interesting and
prepossessing as he is, is somehow or other connected
with my future fate. Nay," as the young officer smiled
in playful mockery, "you may ridicule my presentiment,
which is, I confess, so much at variance with good sense,
that I almost blush to introduce the subject, but still
I cannot banish the impression."
"Then, I will assist you in doing so, dearest, even though
at the risk of re-opening a newly-closed wound," remarked
her lover, with deep affection of manner. "In my narrative
of those events, hastily thrown together, which I gave
you on that memorable night, when I suffered for a period,
almost the torments of the damned, I did not, it seems
to me, name the young Indian, who, with his father, so
greatly aided me on my return to the farm, and even bore
upon his shoulders the sacred charge."
"No, Harry, you did not," quickly rejoined Maria Heywood;
"but I know now whom you mean.


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