The unhappy inmates of the fort were too much occupied with their own griefs to heed these pathetic lamentations, and Aunt Polly rode briskly away, muttering confusedly of her losses, and her delight at rescuing the General at so little cost.
Her heart sank when she drew near her own house, for she had passed nothing but smoking cabins all the way; but a sudden rise of ground revealed it, standing and unharmed. As she galloped up to the door, Sim White, looking really glad, came out to meet her, while Mother Derwent and Jane appeared in the doorway.
“All safe!” cried Aunt Polly, springing to the ground. “Where’s Mary, and the minister?”
“Mary is on the bed, worn out with last night’s work,” began the old lady, but Aunt Polly did not pause to hear her out.
“Sim, take the Gin’ral, feed him well—and, Sim—you may kiss me. I don’t care if Grandmother Derwent and Jane do see you.”
Sim gave her a hearty embrace, and they all entered the house, where Aunt Polly related all that had happened, and, bringing out a blacking-brush, insisted on marking all their faces like her own.
But this quiet lasted only a few hours. The Indians, in total disregard of the terms of the capitulation, began plundering and setting on fire all the houses in the district.
CHAPTER XXIX
THE DOUBLE WEDDING
In a few hours after Aunt Polly’s return home, the missionary came to the tavern, looking more haggard than he had ever appeared before. He inquired in a tremulous voice after Mary, and when he found her lying pale and exhausted on Aunt Polly’s bed, but with an expression of sublime thankfulness on her face, the tears absolutely swelled into his eyes.
“Are you ill—are you hurt?” inquired the young girl, reaching forth her hand.