Muddy was not in the kitchen. Repairing to Virginia’s chamber, I discovered the good woman at her dear daughter’s bedside. Only Sissy’s empillowed head was visible, the remainder of her body being concealed beneath her quilt. Her eyes were closed—her features were utterly immobile—and her complexion was exceptionally pallid. In all, she resembled nothing so much as recently deceased corpse—an appearance which, I could not help but observe, endowed her with a strange, supernal beauty. A tremulous gasp escaped my lips, at the sound of which Muddy became aware of my presence. Perceiving the distressed look upon my face, she quickly assured me that—though the intensely trying events of the ƒête, as well as an excessive indulgence in its many culinary delights, had left Sissy somewhat indisposed—there was nothing seriously amiss with the angelic creature.

After inquiring as to my own state of physical and emotional health—and learning that I was as well as could be expected—Muddy declared: “There is some nice porridge for you on the stove, Eddie. Go and help yourself to some. It will do you good. I will stay here with Virginia a bit longer.”

Obeying the good woman’s injunction, I proceeded to the kitchen and quickly fortified myself with a large portion of the bracing substance. I had just finished scraping the last remnants from my bowl when a vigorous rapping upon the front door signalled Crockett’s arrival.

Within moments, I had admitted the frontiersman to our domicile and escorted him into my study, where we took our accustomed places—I in the seat behind my writing table, he in the facing chair. Having exchanged his backwoods raiment for his ordinary attire, he looked much the same as I had grown used to seeing him. There was, however, a peculiarly troubled expression upon his rugged, sun-browned countenance.

“I am right happy to see you back on your feet, Poe,” he said, scrutinizing me with a gaze of singular intensity. “You was looking mighty poorly when I fetched you home last night. How’s Miz Virginny faring?”

“She is resting comfortably in her chamber, attended by our ever-faithful Muddy, who has assured me that the dear child is expected to achieve a complete and rapid recuperation. In view of the extreme fragility of Sissy’s youthful constitution, it is a wonder that she has not been rendered even more severely incapacited by the shocking events of last evening.”

“Shocking is right,” exclaimed Crockett. “Why, I ain’t seen such deviltry since the bloody massacre at Fort Mimms, when that infernal varmint Red Eagle and his band of cutthroats carried out the work of death as a butcher would in a slaughter pen.”

“Indeed,” I said. “I can perceive by the lineaments of distress engraved upon your visage just how deeply you have been affected by the appalling tragedy whose occurrence we foresaw, but were helpless to prevent.”