Neither rank nor beauty must interpose to prevent the
punishment. Nay, sometimes the power of innocence and virtue itself is
not sufficient to guard the Dahcotah maiden from disgrace.
And was Wenona unworthy? The white snow that covered the hills was not
more pure than she. But Red Cloud cared not for that. She had refused to
be the light of his wigwam, and thus was he avenged.
Wenona advanced with the maidens of the village. Who can describe her
terror and dismay when Red Cloud advances and leads her from the sacred
ring? To whom shall the maiden turn for help? To her brother? his angry
countenance speaks not of comfort. Her friends? the smile of scorn is on
their lips. Her lover? he has left the feast.
Her determination is soon made; her form is seen as she flies to the
woods. Death is the refuge of the friendless and the wronged.
But as night came on the relatives of Wenona wondered that she did not
return. They sought her, and they found her lifeless body; the knife was
deep in her heart. She knew she was innocent, but what did that avail
her? She was accused by a warrior, and who would believe her if she
denied the charge?
And why condemn her that she deprived herself of life, which she deemed
worthless, when embittered by unmerited contempt.
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