“Pretty well in body, but wretched in spirit. O dear! few know the horrors and sufferings we nervous women go through for the men’s sake.”
“What is the trouble now?” he asked, with an air of solicitude.
“What is the trouble, do you ask? Why, isn’t these awful times now, with these savage Indians murdering and hacking people. I expect, just as like as not, they’ll murder us all in our homes. There’s no telling what they won’t do in this heathen country. Lord of massy! I should think they had done enough now.”
“Ah! my good sister, you must be more hopeful. The Lord will deliver us from our peril. Remember there are strong and willing hearts around you.”
“Yes, that’s a slight consolation; but then them Injins will do almost anything. Only think how they run off with George Kingman.”
“But that is not certain yet, by any means. Many others, including myself, have not given up our hopes of him yet.”
“Oh, he’s gone, you may be sure of that. I’ve been up to see Mrs. Kingman. She felt a little propped up, I believe, by what the people had said; but I told her there was no use in hoping, for he’d got into the hands of them heathens, and they hacked him all to pieces.”
“And what did she say to that, my good sister?”
“Oh, she burst out a cryin’ like, and wrung her hands saying as how she feared so all the time. It’s always so; we women do suffer nearly everything for the unfeeling men. Yes, oh, yes!”
A sort of hysterical sob and whimper followed this, but in a moment she revived again.