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This book must not
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Form No. 471

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HE TURNED JUST IN TIME TO ESCAPE AN ARROW."

Paee 184.

VIRGINIA DARE

a Romance of i^t Sixteentij Centurg

BY

E. A. B. S.,

AUTHOB OF "CECIL'S STORY OF THE DOVE," "STORIES OF

EASTER-TIDB," ETC.

Library, Univ. ©f
North Carolina

NEW YORK:
THOMAS WHITTAKER

2 AND 3 Bible House

1892

Copyright, 1892,
By Thomas Whittaker.

(l

GRATEFULLY DEDICATED TO OUR RECTOR

AND FRIEND,

Eeberenti SosepI) dareg^ ^M^,

OF

SARATOGA SPRINGS.

PEEFACB.

The author would like to remind the readers
of the romance of Virginia Dare, that if they
go back in memory to their schooldays, and the
details of their American history, they will re-
member that Governor White sailed for Eng-
land from Roanoke on the 28th of August,
1587, leaving behind him his daughter, and her
child who had been born ten days before ; that
he was unable to return immediately, owing to
war with Spain, and when after the lapse of the
three years he did return, he found the island
of Roanoke deserted, and a palisade built, as if
there had been a fight with the Indians. He
found no cross, as he had directed them to put
one if they were in trouble, over the name of
the place to which they had removed. But he
found on one tree the first three letters of the
word "Croatoan," and on another the entire
word. They attempted to find Croatoan, but,
losing their anchors, were obliged to drift away
and give up the search.

CHAPTER I.

VIRGINIA DARE:

A ROMANCE OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY,

CHAPTER I.

"I cannot feel
That all is well when darkening clouds conceal

The shining sun;
But then I know

God lives and loves; and say, since it is so,
Thy will be done."

E. B. Browning.

" We've got a bright lookout, if this day is
the foreteller of what our nation is to be in this
new land;" and the speaker threw down his
hunting-knife with a satirical laugh.

"Well, Jake, we cannot expect anything
brighter if we've sense and courage enough to
look before us. Ten days more and the ships
will be gone ; then what is there to prevent
these savages from murdering us all ? Our

7

8 VIRGINIA DARE.

colony will have a short day, and may be wiped
out before it is half over. This land belongs
to the redskins ; and when our men and the
governors fly over the water, and won't take
us, it is simply saying, ' Poor things, some-
one's got to stay, or the London Company won't
like it: be brave, and die like Englishmen for
us.' "

" What dost thou say, Hopeful Kent ? Ah !
thou talkest like a brave Englishman; surely,
shouldst thou die as thou livest, thy country-
men would have naught to be proud of in thee."
Both men looked ashamed as the speaker ad-
vanced from the wood, and looked straight at
them with his great searching eyes, from under
a broad-brimmed flat hat, such as was worn by
the clergy after the Reformation.

He looked almost sternly at the two men as
he asked, "Dost thou try to better things by
hard work? Dost thou try to help thy gover-
nor, whom thy Lord has put over thee ? For
shame, Jake Barnes! Didst thou work more,
and growl less, thou would'st do better. Thou
scarcely livest up to thy blessed calling in thy
name. Hopeful Kent! How great is the mercy
of thy God that he smite th thee not! "

Jake Barnes shuffled away, muttering some-

VIRGINIA DARE. 9

thing to himself about "preaching parsons;"
but the other man asked, "Don't you think,
Master Bradford, it is rather bad luck that the
day the first white baby opens its eyes in this
new land should be wild and rough ? I always
look, sir, on the bright side when my judg-
ment lets me, but I think it's a bad sign."

"Dost thou? See, Hopeful," cried the old
man, "even now the sun has broken through.
God be praised! Be there such things as thou
speakest of, — chance, signs, and luck, — I wot
not of them. But, even so, the day shall
dawn dull and hard for us, as we have seen;
but when the blessed evensong calleth, it shall
be bright as yonder sky for our people, and the
next day shall dawn and set with peace and
plenty for them, through God's great mercy."

" A pity the first child was not a boy : we all
think that, sir, don't you?"

"Ah, Hopeful, the dear Lord knoweth best!
This sweet lamb of his fold, born in this hea-
then land, mayhap she was sent a woman that
her constancy may keep her faith bright,
though her way be a hard one. God bless
her!"

"Why should a woman be more constant
than a man, sir? I think we men make the

10 VIRGINIA DARE.

world what it is, and it seems to me rather
bad that this child is a girl. We want fight-
ing, not constancy, now. She'll need as much
care and food as if she were going to fell a
dozen Indians when she's grown. There's
been but little work done to-day, the men are
all so excited, and all over a bit of a girl.'*

"There's not a man among us that knoweth
the worth of a strong arm that the good Lord
giveth unto his soldiers, better than 1; but I
have not the time to be talking to-day of the
work of the blessed women in the world. It
was the holy Father's will; praised be his
name ! Let us bow down in thanksgiving that
he hath sent unto us one of his little ones ; for
where they go they carry his blessing. As
thou art pained by the slackness among the
men about the work, I'll keep thee no longer,
thou may'st go to thy tasks ; mayhap they will
follow thy example."

"Please, Master Bradford, Mistress Wilkins
sends her regards, and would have me say that
she would be wanting to speak with you."
The speaker was a child of ten or twelve, who
courtesied as she gave her message. She was a
strange-looking little figure, with her tightly
plaited yellow hair drawn back from a very

VIRGINIA BABE. 11

brown forehead. Her pale-blue eyes were a
strange contrast to her skin, which was almost
copper color from exposure . She wore a plain
dark frock, with a kerchief neatly crossed on
her breast.

The clergyman took the child's hand, say-
ing, "I will come at once, Patience, child;
art thou going back to Mistress Wilkins now ? "

" Please, I will be there almost with Master
Bradford, if I may first gather some of those
posies to put on the cradle. Mistress Wilkins
says I may rock it," said the child, looking up
into the gray eyes that were smiling kindly
down on her. They seemed to encourage her;
for she added, clasping her hands, and fairly
beaming with delight, " The baby is the most
beautiful one, sir, you ever saw. I love it,
oh, so much ! They want to ask you about its
name, and when it would please you to give
it, sir.

" Ah, yes, I suppose the governor wills it to
be done before we sail ; sure, it must be, but I
had not thought of it. He is right: I am too
old for this life here; my memory is failing
me. I shall go back to England and thank
the blessed Lord for letting so unworthy a ser-
vant do so great a work as to receive for him

12 VIRGINIA DARE.

two precious souls belonging to so strange a
time and people, — the reel savage Manteo last
week; and the wee baby, the first one in a new
and heathen land, this week, no doubt."

The old man had nodded his consent to the
child, and walked on with bowed head, thinking
aloud. The child sprang at once into a little
thicket where wild vines and flowers grew in
abundance, and gathered her arms full. She
certainly made an odd picture ; her droll little
figure in that wild, unbroken country, as she
stood on the branch of a fallen tree, one arm
full of flowers and trailing vines, while she
was trying with the other how far she could
throw a flat stone and make it skip over the
water. As it skipped once, twice, three times,
then sank, making great circles on the smooth
surface, she laughed merrily, and springing
from branch to branch she ran on, jumping over
every obstacle, at the same time chanting : —

"Be thou, OGod, exalted high;
And as thy glory fills the sky,
So let it be on earth displayed,
Till thou art here, as there, obeyed."

It was Friday that Patience summoned Mas-
ter Bradford to Mrs. Dare's hut, where only a
few hours before the baby had opened its blue

VIRGINIA DARE. 13

eyes and caused excitement in the little colony.
Even Master Bradford felt a strange thrill of
pleasure as Mistress Wilkins put the tiny crea-
ture into his arms, saying, "Give the child
your blessing, sir : I felt it were not safe to let
her be longer without at least the blessing of a
priest."

As he took the little one, there was an un-
easy look in his honest face. Master Bradford
would not have suited some Churchmen of the
present day; and yet we all look back with
pride as well as pleasure to the fact that among
the first colonists in this country there was a
priest of our Church, and the first time that
praise and worship sounded in our language
from this great continent, it was in the words
of our own beautiful liturgy; and thus, from
Master Bradford's service in the rude Roanoke
chapel, to the days of Captain John Smith,
when good Mr. Hunt and Mr. Whittaker
fought the strengthening Puritan element, no
service had ever been offered but that of our
own dear Church.

He replied, "She is the first precious lamb
the Lord has trusted to this fold. 'Tis true
the blessing of any of God's children is but a
form of prayer to him and can do no harm.'*

14 VIRGINIA DARE.

He held many of the Puritan views that were
then beginning to take root in England. It was
only natural, then, that he should hesitate to
comply with Mistress Wilkins's request. But
he took the child tenderly, as it was laid in his
arms; and as he held it and looked into its
little face, so fresh from heaven, all prejudice
slipped away, and he satisfied even Mistress
Wilkins.

The tall figure of Governor White, and his
assistant Ananias Dare, entered the room as
Master Bradford began, " May our ever-loving
Shepherd watch over this little lamb in this
wilderness, and lead her safely through it to
the heavenly fold at last. And may the bless-
ing of the Father, the Son, and the Holy^ Spirit
ever be with her."

It was Sunday morning, the tenth after
Trinity, in the year of our Lord 1587, the
18th of August, a typical day for that time of
the year, sunny and warm, with a soft haze
over everything, as if the world were resting,
or rather, on this particular day, in this partic-
ular place, the world looked as if it had never
waked up at all. One could not believe that
those lovely flowers and ferns had ever been
covered with ice and snow, or that those

VIRGINIA DARE. 15

mighty forest trees had been shaken in fierce
storms till their very roots trembled in the
earth. That still peaceful sheet of water,
sparkling in the morning sunlight, seemed un-
able to lash itself into great waves, or to dash
great ships into fragments.

On this little island this quiet Sunday, there
was a strange sight to be seen as the drum-beat
called the people to service in the little log
chapel; and an odd-looking lot they were.
First came two Puritan maidens, walking de-
murely together; then an English gentleman,
whose clothes looked shabby, as did he him-
self; then a little company from the shore,
where some canoes showed that they had just
landed. Among them was a tall figure with
straight black hair hanging around his shoul-
ders: he wore a topknot of feathers, a bright
blanket, an English ruff about his neck, which
had been given him while he was in England ;
for this was Manteo, the chief who had been
made a Christian only the Sunday before in this
same little chapel. He had a fine figure, tall
and graceful. With him came a little group of
his own braves : they went straight up the hill
towards the low building. Then came some
slouching sailors, who looked as if they did not

16 VIRGINIA DARE.

often go to the chapel, and were a little uncom-
fortable now. Then there were some men in
smock-frocks. Then behind a whole family, just
as you might have seen at home in England, go-
ing to any church. They were evidently people
of the middle class. The father had undoubt-
edl}^ been a miller before lie left home, if one
might judge from his funny springing step and
broad miller's thumb. He looked very proud
and happy as he walked along by his sturdy
wife. Before them were their four children, a
little rosy boy and a big girl, hand in hand, and
the twins, yellow-haired English lassies. A
strange mixture they all were ; a little piece of
civilization in the heart of a great wilderness ;
commonplace English people, living and wor-
shipping in the primeval forest of the new land.

CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER II.

"Yet in sharp hours of trial

The mighty seal must needs he prov'd ;
Dread spirits wait in stern espial; —
But name thou still the Name belov'd."

Keble.

There stood Master Bradford in gown and
bands, his kindly face upturned as he led the
prayers and psalms. He had finished reading
the lesson from St. John's Gospel, when a little
company entered the chapel and came straight
up the aisle ; first Governor White's tall figure,
then Mistress Wilkins, carrying the baby, closely
followed by its father, who looked proud and
happy.

Indian and white man alike arose as Master
Bradford began the familiar and beautiful words
of our baptismal service ; and when he put the
holy water on the wee brow and said, " Vir-
ginia, I baptize thee," a murmur of satisfaction
ran through the little congregation. Never was
queen baptized with more ceremony, or in the
presence of a more loving or devoted congrega-

19

20 VIRGINIA DARE.

tion, than this little grandchild of Governor
White, who had received the name of the new
country in which she was the first Christian baby
born. It was because of her baptism that on this
tenth Sunday after Trinity every one in the lit-
tle Roanoke colony but the child's own mother
crowded into and around the roughly made log
building that served for a church or chapel.

That first house of God in our land, which
now, three hundred years later, abounds in
splendid churches and cathedrals, was, I fancy,
as precious to him who values our gifts by our
love, and counts worth by sacrifice, as the gor-
geous temples of our day. He did not despise
the roughly made house in which the Holy
Presence was first celebrated; that log room
where there was moss for a carpet, a great bowl-
der for the altar, lichen and cup-moss for hang-
ings, the font, a spring trickling through the
stones ; where for decorations the sweetbrier
and wild creeper had forced their way between
the logs, and clung to the barky walls, and
where the little birds often flew in for their
morning hymn of praise, and the forest trees
raised their arms protectingly over the holy spot,
forming, as it were, a lofty cathedral arch. To
those loving Eyes watching from above, that

VIRGINIA BARE. 21

humble square building, made by the loving
hands of those first settlers as a token of their
love and gratitude for bringing them safely
through the mighty waters to so pleasant a port,
that first chapel, I am sure, was as beautiful as
are many of our richly carved and polished
temples of stone.

As the service ended, the little congregation
gathered outside the governor's hut; inside,
some of the principal men were talking to him,
also Manteo, the Indian chief. Governor White
was standing in the inner room by the bed ; he
was holding the baby in his arms, and speaking
very earnestly. A voice from the bed cried,
" O father, father dear, you will not leave me !
do not, do not."

" Yes, Eleanor," was the reply ; " God calls
me back to England. I only waited to see your
baby ; with her you will find it less lonely, dear,
and you are always brave." And, as Ananias
Dare came in and bent over the bed, Governor
White walked out to the group of men waiting
in the outer room. He closed the door behind
liim as he said, " Well, my men, I think this is
a good time and place for me to tell you the
plans we are to carry out."

And then, stepping to the door, that those

22 VIRGINIA BARE.

standing outside might hear what he said, he
continued, "This is our plan: I shall sail for
England as soon as we can make everything
ready. Some of the men will go with me, the
others remain here till our return. I do not
mean in this particular place, but in this won-
derful new country. I do not think it would be
wise to remain on this island ; any of the tribes
which wish to drive you away have the advan-
tage, being able to approach you on every side
in their canoes. You are to leave Roanoke and
go to the mainland, and settle in a spot not held
by any particular tribe. Wanchese is no longer
friendly; partly, I believe, because he thinks
that at one time this island belonged to his
tribe. However this may be, I am assured that
it would be better for you to be on the mainland
for many reasons, and that it would be wise for
you to have nothing to do with Wanchese.
When you leave Roanoke, carve on a tree that
overhangs the little bay the name of the place
you have removed to ; if in danger or distress,
carve over the name a cross. I have drawn up
the laws that are to govern you, and which v/ill
be in my room ready for you to sign to-morrow.
I will leave behind me ninety-one men, the
seventeen women, and eight children, and these
laws are to govern them.''

VIRGINIA DARE. 23

As the governor saw the dissatisfied faces, he
continued, " I shall return as soon as it is pos-
sible : I am sure you cannot doubt that. Am I
not leaving you good security, my daughter and
her child, this dear little one ? "

He laid his hand on the swinging cradle in
which he had put the baby ; and then, raising
the other hand and looking up, he said in a clear,
distinct, and reverent way, " Before you all, my
friends, and before my God, I swear I will be
faithful to you. I will do to you as I hope and
pray I may be done by. I shall remember you,
as I want you to remember my laws and wishes,
for which we shall have to answer in the day of
the great Judgment."

The men outside shuffled off, while those
inside who belonged to the council talked long
with the governor. Manteo listened, and ad-
mired the white chief's power and wisdom.

The next day the men, though they had made
many threats, one by one signed the laws that
were to govern the colony.

Then there came days of busy preparation for
the return of the ships to England, and the com-
fort of those to be left behind. Another baby
face appeared, and the happy family of children
now numbered five. Mr. Harvey proudly

24 VIRGINIA DARE.

brought his baby to Master Bradford to receive
its name, — Elizabeth.

Then came the dreadful day when the ships
weighed anchor and passed out of sight, lost for-
ever to those who watched their departure.

When Governor White's return to England
was talked of, the colonists dreaded the time of
his leaving ; they shrank from even thinking of
it, and yet they did not begin to know what his
departure meant to them. A handful of people
in a great land among savages.

Mrs. Dare grew strong very slowly ; had it not
been for her baby, it is doubtful whether she
ever would have rallied after parting with her
father and husband ; but that tiny face was a
precious treasure, not only to the mother who
watched it so lovingly, but also to every one in
that little colony. There were few men, even,
who did not look in at the door of the little hut
some time in the course of every day " to take a
look at the baby." She would allow herself to
be picked up by any one, at any time, without
a murmur ; in fact, the only time she had ever
really cried, and then she did it with all her
might, was while the governor's ships were
weighing anchor and slowly moving out of sight.
Mistress Wilkins said the child was troubled

VIRGINIA DARE. 25

with colic, but there were others who shook
their heads and talked about omens and chil-
dren's wonderful power of foreseeing dangers or
calamities while they were too young to talk,
save with angels or spirits. But, be the case
what it may, the fact remains that Virginia was
an exceptionally good baby, did not cry at all
till she was ten days old, and never again to
amount to anything. This is perhaps why baby
Elizabeth Harvey was not more loved ; she was
from the first a delicate child, and had more than
her share of baby ailments and pains, and she
was always crying, or just ready to begin at the
slightest provocation. Some people were un-
kind enough to say that her mother deserved to
have such a child, for calling her after the queen ;
that she would have just such a temper when
she was grown up ; while Virginia would be
placid, sweet, and sunny, like the land of her
name and birth.

Virginia was nearly five weeks old when the
first change came into her baby life ; in fact, this
change was destined to affect the whole colony.

CHAPTER III.

CHAPTER III.

" Lay hands unto this work with all thy wit,
Yet pray that God may speed and profit it."

Robert Salterne.

It was the very last of September ; the day
had been a perfect one, just the faintest touch
of autumn in the air and on the trees. The
sun had gone down in a sea of glory, and the
peaceful hour of twilight was hushing every-
thing to rest. The sentinel was pacing to and
fro. It was Jake Barnes's turn that night, and
he did not like the work at all ; in fact, it was
hard to find anything in the way of work that
he did like.

As he came to a sudden halt by an old tree
that overhung the water he muttered, " It's lots
of good I'd do if the redskins should come ! I
suppose they'd like me to kill 'em all. A nice
lot of cowards the fellows here are ; why don't
they go and fight them savages, and let us take
their lands to pay us for coming away across the
water ; frighten them, let 'em see we mean busi-

29

30 VIRGINIA DARE.

ness. If we don't, they'll finish us all. I
wouldn't make friends with any of 'em ; carrying
them around the world as if they were white
Christians ; and just because they call one a
chief, he must be treated like a king. I hope
some day I'll have the pleasure of putting
my sword through that red shining-faced
Manteo."

He stopped suddenly, for a slight sound on
the bank below caught his ear. He stepped
quickly behind the tree, so that if there were an
arrow coming it could not possibly touch his
precious body. As none came, he gathered
all his courage and called out, "Who goes
there?"

Immediately a soft voice answered, "Don't
fire, Master Barnes ! It's only me, Patience."

"What are you doing there? You deserve
to be shot," was the gruff reply.

" Oh, please don't ! " cried Patience. " I was
only watching the stars come out to look in their
looking-glass. Do you know, Master Barnes,
that the sea is the looking-glass for the sun and
moon and all the little stars? To-night the
moon-mother has stayed at home, but she has
sent some clouds to take care of her star-chil-
dren, and as soon as they look at themselves for

VIRGINIA DARE. 31

a little while, their nurses, the clouds, carry
them away home. Pretty soon they'll be all
gone, and then the sky will be lonely."

Barnes walked on, and had forgotten the
child. Passing the same spot a few minutes
later, he started at the sound of a soft voice say-
ing, " Master Barnes ! " Patience stood beside
him ; the hand she had laid on his sleeve shook,
and her upturned face was very white, while
she said in a voice that trembled with fear,
" There is a canoe coming over from the land,
and there's an Indian in it, I think."

" Where, child ? Are you sure ? "

" Oh, yes," she replied ; " and I was so fright-
ened I hurried to find you."

" I'll make short work of him if he's alone, I
will," Barnes muttered. " One of Manteo's fine
braves, I hope. I wish it were the old fellow
himself, I'd soon put a ball through his royal
crown, and not feel bad about it either ; " and he
laughed to himself. Then, turning to Patience,
he said, " Where is he coming ashore ? "

"He was pointing towards the little bay.
Master Barnes ; but," she added, " if he's one of
Manteo's Indians, we ought not to hurt him,
ought we ? "

"You go to bed, child, and mind you say

32 VIRGINIA DABE.

nothing of this ; it's my duty to shoot any one
that's lurking around in a suspicious way; I
ought to have shot you. I'll have to do it now,
if you don't hurry to bed and go to sleep. Off
with you! I guess your Indian was all a
fancy."

Patience waited for nothing more : she almost
flew toward the little group of cabins, until she
was hidden from Barnes by the woods. Then,
with an anxious look behind, to see he was not
following her, she stood still. Barnes had no
idea of following her ; he watched her out of
sight, descended the bank to a rock from which
he could command a good view of the little bay,
and sat down, ready to fire.

Meanwhile, Patience stood in the old forest
alone. As her feet had been flying over the
ground, her mind had been flying too. In less
than half the time it takes to write it, she
thought over what Barnes had said about killing
one of Manteo's men ; she also remembered what
she had heard Mrs. Dare say one day, after
Manteo had been in to see the baby Virginia,
" Manteo is a faithful friend to us. If the In-
dians ever give us trouble he will stand by us to
the very end." Perhaps this was one of his
men ; perhaps he was bringing a message from

VIRGINIA DARE. 33

Manteo ; perhaps it might be Manteo himself.
Some one must save him.

Before she could reach the huts to call any-
one, the canoe would reach the bay ; she was
the one to save him. But what if Master Barnes
should see her and shoot her ! For one moment
the thought frightened her, and she crouched
down on the ground. Another, and the brave
resolution was made. She must save the man
in the canoe. Once more she was flying through
the dark forest.

Well for the baby Virginia, and for all in that
little colony, that her steps were light and quick,
and her heart was brave.

Patience reached the clearing on the ridge of
the bank ; on she moved stealthily, one slip and
she would be in that dark, cruel water. Well
for her work that the clouds had hidden all the
stars. She came to the group of rocks standing
out in the water ; at the same moment she heard
the soft splash of the paddle. One quick spring
and she reached the first slippery stone. Could
she stand firmly enough to jump to the next
rock ? If not, within a few seconds the canoe
vrould have passed beyond her reach. The
paddle sounded nearer ; how her head whirled ;
what a giddy spring ! But it was done.

34 VIRGINIA DARE.

" Chief Manteo ! "

The paddle stopped ; she repeated her words ;
the canoe came closer. " Who are you ? " she
asked.

The Indian took her hand and felt it, as if to
try to understand who or what she was, then he
replied in broken English, " Ranteo comes from
Manteo to the white chief. Why is the white
child here alone on the rocks ? "

" I came here to save you, for you must not
go into the little bay. Master Barnes will not
know who you are. He says it is his duty to
shoot every one that is about at this hour."

The Indian muttered something in his own
tongue that was hardly complimentary to the
whites. While Patience was trying to get up
her courage to make the difficult spring back
toward the land, the canoe had been concealed
under some bushes, for Ranteo did not feel quite
sure the whites were to be trusted ; if so, why
should this child come to warn him? He
thought of all this as he drew his canoe up on
land and hid it. He was standing, holding his
hand out to Patience before she had gained cour-
age enough to move. She took his hand and
tried to jump, but the fright that had lent her

_^^.

VIRGINIA BARE. 35

strength was over now, and she was trembling
and unsteady. Ranteo drew her to the rock on
which he stood, then, raising her to his shoulder,
stepped across to the land. He did not put her
down, but turned into the unbroken forest by a
path or trail which his Indian eye had traced.

CHAPTER IV.

CHAPTER IV.

Little by little, sure and slow,

We fashion our future, of bliss or woe,

As the present passes away.
Our feet are climbing the stairway bright,
Or gliding downward into the night,

Little by little, day by day."

In less than ten minutes they were passing
the first log hut ; how quiet everything was !
Most of the settlers were sleeping as sweetly as
they might have done in their own villages in
dear old England. There was not much doubt
which of the huts was occupied by the Harvey
family, for the baby Elizabeth was crying as
usual. No one seemed to trouble himself in the
least about the wee creature that sent forth con-
stantly so pitiful a little cry, that it said more
plainly than volumes could have done, how
weary and hard she found this world.

She, the youngest creature, was the first to
break the peace of that quiet little Roanoke vil-
lage, the first Christian people in this heathen
land. But the happy hours of peace in their

39

40 VIRGINIA DARE.

rude little homes were over; for in less than an
hour every one's heart echoed the sad cry of that
tiny baby : there were torches lighted here and
there, and little knots of men talking in anxious
whispers, as if they feared being overheard, even
by the wind and trees ; women standing together
outside their doors, with frightened children
clinging to them. Every one was thoroughly
awake now. In one group stood Anthony Gage,
an elderly man who seemed to have authority,
for the others were looking at him and listening.
He had been made a leader rather by circum-
stances than by birth ; and he looked frightened
and bewildered now, as the torch cast a lurid,
flickering light over his handsome face.

" I think," he was saying, " as long as Manteo
is a powerful chief, we had better go back with
Ranteo ; we will be as safe there as anywhere.
It was certainly good of him to offer us shelter,
for it will mean war with Wanchese for him.
What say you, men ? "

Hopeful Kent was in the group, and spoke up
at once : —

" I fear we shall then be making slaves of our-
selves. Manteo can do what he likes with us
when we are in his camp. Mayhap he has made
all this story up to get possession of us."

VIRGINIA DARE. 41

The first speaker shook his head. "No," he
said, " Manteo is our friend ; an Indian is not
treacherous to his friends. I have feared, ever
since Governor White left us, that we should
have trouble with Wanchese ; for if an Indian
is not one's friend, he is his bitter enemy. I
wish we could have removed our village at
once. The delay was unavoidable, as you all
know."

Gage had one of those weak natures, to which
it is almost impossible to form a positive and
quick decision. As he paced up and down at a
short distance from the others, the group was
joined by several persons, among whom was
Barnes, more put out than he chose to acknowl-
edge at the turn things had taken. He had
had no opportunity to fire on the Indian as he
had planned, and then, worst of all, a redskin
had got the best of him. Altogether, he was in
a much worse humor than usual, if that were
possible.

Why did such unwholesome, unprincipled
men come away from their own land, where the
laws could hold them in check ?

Barnes was saying in a strong, fierce way, " I
tell you what it is, lads, it's each man for him-
self. We haven't any one over us. I, for one,

42 VIRGINIA DARE.

sha'n't put my red scalp in the keeping of any
Indian. I'd be for taking the one that has come
here and quartering him, and sending a piece to
his fine painted chief, and the rest to Wanchese.
It'll make peace with him quicker than anything
else we can do."

The tall governor, Gage, had been absent
hardly five minutes from the group, when he re-
turned, still undecided, to find the aspect of
things totally changed.

He began mildly, " I think, my dear fellows,
we had better get our things together, and start
at daybreak. Ranteo will wait, I have no doubt."

A growl rather than a murmur ran through
the little group ; then Barnes spoke out : —

" We're not going, sir, one step with that ras-
cal. He can wait till we scalp him ; it's all he
deserves ; stealing in among us like a thief in
the night. We are going to be men, and fight
for our homes, our women, and children ; aren't
we, lads ? "

"Ay, ay," was the reply. But one strong
voice, from a man scarcely more than a lad, who
had just come up, said, " Do you call yourselves
men? It is cowards I should call 3^ou if you
would touch one who has come among us to
save us from ruin, and who trusts us. For shame,

VIRGINIA DARE. 43

fellows ! If you touch him, it must be over my
dead body."

"I shouldn't mind that at all," said Barnes
dryly, drawing out his hunting-knife.

George Howe, for such was the name of the
speaker, was no coward ; but he realized that this
was not the time for a quarrel among themselves,
when trouble and death threatened from outside.
So he only said, " Put up your knife, Barnes ; if
we kill each other, there will be one man less, if
not two, to guard the women and children. I
am sure you would be sorry to see this brave
fellow killed. If Wanchese should come, and
you find all he tells us is true. Governor White
would be very angry if we should hurt an Indian
without good cause."

"I care much about his anger, or what he
wishes," grumbled Barnes ; while Hopeful Kent
muttered, " I'm mighty sure the governor will
never be bothered with our doings ; there will be
none left to tell him. We'll all be in Kingdom
Come long before he or any one else comes back.
It's a lot any of them trouble themselves about
us." Once more Howe tried to thwart the evil
councils of the lawless men among whom he
stood.

" Let's put it to vote what we shall do,"

44 VIRGINIA DARE.

Barnes said, coming up to the group, after he
had interviewed a number of the men, who still
stood in little knots talking anxiously. Howe
and the present governor, Gage, were standing
together a little apart. Howe had made a sug-
gestion, and had almost succeeded in persuading
his companion to adopt it, when Barnes cried
out in triumphant tones, "Let's put it to vote,"
we are free men."

" If you let them," muttered Howe, " it will
be the ruin of us all, sir ; something, it must be
the Evil One, I think, gives Barnes a strange
power over the men. Don't put it to vote, sir,
I beg ; make them feel your authority."

"No doubt you are right, Howe," replied
Gage, as he stepped nearer to Barnes and said,
" Barnes, you have the interest of us all at heart,
and while I feel it is right to observe caution, in
this case we have no choice but to trust Manteo.
Were we alone we might run risks, which we
have no right to do with the women and chil-
dren depending on us. I know you will trust
my decision, which I am sorry to say differs from
your opinion." He stopped, for Barnes had
turned and walked away. He only went a few
steps, however ; then turning with a gleam of
triumph in his eyes, as he saw the disturbed look

VIRGINIA DARE. 45

he had caused in the face of the man whom he
ought to have obeyed, he cried furiously, " Don't
be too sure of your good judgment ; we came to
this country free men, and as a free man I am
going to act now. I am not going to Croatoan.
You may if you choose. Who'll fight the sav-
ages, and win lands and homes with me ? or run
away like a baby to its mother when the first
sound of fight comes."

Nearly all the men had gathered round, seeing
their leader standing in a weak, undecided way,
looking helplessly and distractedly at Barnes,
whose strong, magnetic face they all felt ; and
they cried, almost with one voice, " I, Barnes, I !
I am no coward." " I am an English lad," or
"Here's your man, Barnes." Seeing that he
held the men, he stepped before the tall figure
of Anthony Gage, who had authority and power
at that moment had he only had the strength to
exert it, and began, " If we are agreed to stay
here and fight like men, the first thing we can
do to prove the strength of our resolution is to
act upon it ; to put to death this lying Indian
who has come among us to be a spy, to make
trouble, to get possession of us and our women
and children, to torture us, to put us to death.
Do you not say with me that he should be pun-

46 VIRGINIA DARE.

ished, to show those red dogs we mean real work,
and no more fooling? What do you say, fel-
lows?"

Only a few voices replied ; even they assented
feebly. Howe walked away in disgust. Barnes,
feeling a little uncertain as to the wisdom of his
last suggestion, determined to excite his follow-
ers a little more before Ranteo should be spoken
of again. So he continued, " The red villains
will be on our track by morning, as soon as they
find their comrade doesn't come back, so we
must get to work and build a palisade. If they
once get hold of us they will show no mercy,
though some of you are foolish enough to be
afraid of hurting this precious copper-colored
heathen. I confess I am not womanish enough
for that."

More thanTl score of voices cried out, "Nor I,
nor I." " They are an ungodly lot." " Clear
them off the face of the earth ; it's a Christian
man's duty." Gage stood with bowed head, the
very personification of disgust, yet with not
moral courage enough to right the wrong he was
so horrified at. He had tried to be a good man,
and yet please his fellow-men among whom he
was thrown ; strange to say, an aim which is
seldom realized, even when a whole life is given

VIRGINIA DARK 47

to its accomplishment. The most truly popular
lives are apart from, and without thought of,
self ; lived for one's fellow-men, with a brighter
and more perfect mainspring than mere humani-
tarianism. Such lives become more than good,
and without either knowing or realizing it, the
busy, flippant world stops in its rush to admire,
if not to bow down in adoration.

When Howe left the little company, he walked
carelessly away, but only while in sight did he
go with slow steps and bowed head. Once out
of sight, and sure he was not watched, he ran as
fast as he could under the shadow of the trees.
Going behind each hut, he looked inquiringly at
the inmates, but he reached the very end before
he felt satisfied.

It was indeed a pretty sight he saw there ; the
rude room with its few articles of rough furni-
ture, and a few little decorations which gave the
place a refined, home-like air ; at one side swung
a cradle, in which lay the baby Virginia. By
the cradle stood the beautiful young mother,
looking proudly and lovingly down on her child.
The rush torch which she held threw a bright
light on the little creature, on the mother her-
self, and on a tall figure that knelt by, watching
the child with almost reverent awe, only ventur-

48 VIRGINIA DARE.

ing to toucli the tiny hand with the tip of his
long finger. The baby watched him with her
pretty blue eyes, cooing as the long feathers
waved back and forth as he moved his head.

" The child comes from the Great Spirit," the
Indian said.

Mrs. Dare replied quietly, "Truly, Ranteo,
the Great Spirit sent her. She is his, but he
has given her to us for a while. You will be
her friend always, won't you? If anything
should happen to me, I tremble to think what
would become of my baby."

Ranteo did not speak, but he took the baby's
wee hand and laid it against his forehead, then
pressed it to his lips, and made a vow which he
never forgot. Nor did he forget those words,
"She is His."

Howe had been weighing several plans in his
mind. At last he was resolved, and stepped in,
saying, " Ranteo, come with me."

"Ranteo's work will be to carry the white
lady and the Great Spirit's baby to Manteo's
wig^vam," was the reply.

" Thank you, Ranteo, we will be very glad to
have you, both baby and I," Mrs. Dare said in
her sweet way ; but glancing at Howe's face she
stopped suddenly and asked, " What is wrong,
do tell me."

VIRGINIA DARE. 49

" I might as well," replied Howe. " Barnes
has made himself governor, and decrees that all
Indians shall die, and the white men shall not
go to Croatoan."

Mrs. Dare clasped her hands in horror, but
the Indian showed no sign of surprise or fear,
and Howe continued, " There is no time to lose ;
come, Ranteo, and don't lay up all these shame-
ful things against our whole race."

Without a word, Ranteo took from his belt the
small soft skin of a white rabbit, and laid it on
the cradle, then followed Howe. Long before
Barnes and his men had finished their discussion,
Ranteo had slipped off in the stillness of the
night, wondering in a stupid sort of a way why
white men were so unlike each other, that a
child had risked her life to save him from being
shot when carrying a warning of danger and an
offer of hospitality, and that after delivering
both, his life was still so unsafe that he had to
be smuggled away quietly. As his canoe glided
quietly over the dark water, he was glad the
pale-faces were far behind, but he wished that
sweet, blue-eyed papoose had a red skin.

After seeing Ranteo's canoe safely out of
sight, Howe turned back toward the line of
moving torches, which showed where the huts

50 VIRGINIA DARE.

were. As he saw them moving he decided the
council must be over, and work of some kind
begun. " God only knows what those villains
will be up to next. Barnes hates me. It will
be better for him not to know that I had any-
thing to do with Ranteo's escape. I'm sure he
wouldn't mind taking me in his place, and I
shall be needed by the women and children.
It's little consideration they'll have while that
brute is self-imposed governor of the colony,"
he said as he hurried on.

Mrs. Dare was holding the baby, and she
looked up as he entered. "Did he get off,
Howe? " she asked.

" Yes ; he's far across the water by this time,
and the villains are just beginning to look for
him. I fancy I see the torches coming this way,"
he replied.

" Thank God," she said ; " it would have been
a disgrace to our people. Oh, if my father were
only here ! What is to become of us all ? "

" You will hear soon enough," was the reply.
" Here comes our gallant new governor ; it is
best to be ignorant about Ranteo."

CHAPTER V.

CHAPTER V.

*' Ob, the little birds sang east, and the little birds sang west,
And I said in an underbreath,
All our life is mixed with death
And who knoweth which is best?"

Browning.

Howe had hardly finished speaking when the
light of another torch flashed through the door-
way, and with it appeared Barnes's ugly face,
with his red hair standing straight up, literally
on end, as it always was, giving him the appear-
ance of being in a chronic state of fright ; but un-
less his own hideous nature frightened him,
which I am afraid he had not grace enough to
see as it really was, his appearance must have
been merely a reflection of the contorted, mis-
shappen soul within.

Eleanor Dare was one of a fine old English
family who nearly all had served their country
with their swords, on land or sea. She had all
the elements of a soldier; was a brave, noble
woman. Her figure, which was slight and grace-
ful, to Barnes looked strangely tall and com-

53

54 riRGINIA DARE.

manding as she rose and came to meet liim, still
holding her baby.

" What do you want ? and who are you that
you make yourself a ruler ? "

Though Barnes boasted of fearing neither God
nor man, there was something very cowardly in
his nature : it made him shiink back now before
the eyes of this brave woman, who dared to
stand alone and accuse him of what he had done.

" You have not heard the truth, madam," he
said, almost civilly : " some one has been telling
you lies ; it is the men who have said what we
shall do."

In a gentler tone she said, " If that is really
the case, I will apologize. Without doubt you
have sent some little gift to Manteo as a token
of our gratitude ? "

" Sent I why we hoped to find the messenger
here. We were just about to prepare a gift for
the chief. The men think it better not to go to
Croatoan ; we are going to make all quite safe
here. But," he added, " the Indian is not here,
is he?"

"Here? oh, no. Mistress Wilkins is sleeping
in the back, and Howe was talking to me here.
Was it Ranteo who brought the message? "

And Barnes, seeing her great blue eyes, and

VIRGINIA DARE. 55

knowing little of a woman's power to act a part
perfectly when something great is involved,
never guessed she was deceiving him, as he re-
plied, " Yes, it was Ranteo, I think."

" Did you tell him to wait, that you wanted to
send a present to Manteo ? " she asked.

"No; I didn't think of it," Barnes muttered
as he turned away. When he had reached his
men, who stood a little way off, he continued,
" I am afraid if I had told him what the present
was tol)e, he wouldn't have been any more anx-
ious to wait. But I'll tell you what it is, fellows,
they haven't seen him, they don't know anything
about him. Folks can't fool me. The red
scoundrel must have heard something we said,
and skipped ; like enough he'll bring his whole
tribe back here to scalp us all by morning."

It was well for the little stars that their cloud
nurses carried them off to bed early ; for I am
sure they would have felt very sad had they
watched the changes fast appearing in the quiet
little village of Roanoke, through the long hours
of that September night. The night heron saw
it all, and sent forth its mournful wail of sorrow.
But at last there was a lurid line of red alonor
the eastern horizon, the dark sky was shot with
streaks of crimson, and the day broke softly.

56 VIRGINIA DARE.

The sun peeped down on the English colony, and
found it wholly different from the place she had
left twelve hours before. The row of log huts
stood empty and deserted, many of them had
lost their roofs or sides, wherever there were
strong logs they had been removed ; there were
no signs of waking life about the place ; every-
thing was desolate. A few things were strewn
around, showing the haste of the departure. At
the lower end of the island some trees were
hewn down, and just beyond rose a palisade
made of large timbers ; behind it, all the settlers
were gathered in a confused crowd. The chil-
dren were crying or fretful ; the women worn
out and weary ; most of the men thoroughly
out of temper, many of them swearing against
Manteo for having, as they said, disturbed their
peaceful lives, or against Queen Elizabeth for
having sent them away to die alone, like the
children of Israel in the wilderness.

The day wore on as it had first dawned, clear
and bright, but with a decided chill in the air,
which by night threatened almost a frost. The
women and children who were exposed felt it
keenly ; and the little ones joined Elizabeth Har-
vey's sad wail, all but Virginia, who lay peace-
fully looking up at the blue sky and the fleecy

VIRGINIA DARE. 57

clouds ; her great blue eyes seemed to under-
stand what all the confusion meant, and she
uttered not a murmur.

When darkness crept over the land once more,
bringing with it a penetrating coldness, the men
threw themselves on the ground with whatever
covering they could find, and went to sleep.
Many of the children cried themselves to sleep,
and most of the tired women soon followed
them. Only in one corner a little group was
still awake ; on the ground where the bushes
formed a rude shelter lay Mrs. Harvey. She
had been about very little since the baby came.
The exertion and excitement of the move had
proved too much for her. • Mistress Wilkins was
caring for her as best she could, without the aid
of medicine, or even comforts, while Mrs. Dare
tried to soothe poor little Elizabeth. Harvey sat
by, looking sadly at his wife, and with each
weary breath she drew his heart grew more
heavy, and a greater sense of desolation crept
over him. The watchers watched on in silence ;
all was still save the cry of the heron or the
screech of the owl in the forest, when a low
whistle sounded fi'om the northern end of the
palisade, followed by a flash of light from a
torch which was held one moment high in the

58 VIRGINIA DAUB.

air. IjThis was to be Howe's signal of danger,
for he was stationed that night. Harvey sprang
to his feet and began waking the sleeping men.
Barnes had only half opened his eyes, when a
hideous war-cry sounded through the forest.
In an instant every man was on his feet, with
his hand on his rifle, ready for the fight. Then
came the arrows thick and fast ; from the inside
of the palisade the guns boomed, or a sword
clashed against the Indian who tried to mount
the palisade. The redman's war-whoop sounded
on every side, now and then a flash of lightning,
for a storm was gathering, showed the hideous
paint on their copper-colored faces. The noise
woke the birds from their sleep, and drawing
their little heads from under their wings they
sent forth doleful cries to add to the horror of
the scene. Even the leaves seemed to sigh with
grief at the awful sight.

Patience had crouched close to Mrs. Dare, and
was helping her to soothe the babies, when she
asked, " If the Indians get us all, what will they
do with us?"

Mrs. Dare held her baby more tightly as she
replied, " Patience, even if they are savages,
they are under the power of our God whom
they do not know, and he can take care of us if

VIRGINIA DARE. 59

the Indians do break through the palisade ; they
can do nothing without his knowing it. You
and I cannot fight, dear, but we can pray."

Patience sat a few moments silent before she
spoke again. " Do you know," she said, " I don't
feel afraid, that is, very much afraid, for the
stars have just come through the clouds ; though
there are only two or three, they are watching
us, and they are so sorry ; they are blinking very
hard to keep their tears back. See how they
blink and twinkle. I know they are angels'
eyes."

A sudden wild yell in the forest sent terror
to every heart. The men had all they could do
to keep back Wanchese and his braves. Several
of the settlers had been already wounded, and
one killed. They could not hold out much
longer against their present enemy, and if help
had come to Wanchese they were surely lost.
Only one moment did this thought depress them,
for the instant the savages heard the cry, they
sent up one fierce and wild answer, and turned to
meet the new foe, now rushing upon them,
headed b}^ Manteo.

Then the Englishmen fired a fresh volley, help-
ing Manteo to drive Wanchese rapidly back to
the shore. The fight was over for the time, just

60 VIRGINIA DABE.

as morning dawned. Ranteo, with three other
Indians, all in paint and war toggery, were
standing without the palisade. Howe went to
see what they wanted. All expected only a
command to surrender, and become Manteo's
prisoners. But no, Ranteo only handed Howe
a soft, well-cured deerskin, saying, "Manteo
sends Ranteo to take the skin to the Blue-eyes,
and will the Blue-eyes and the beautiful lady go
with Ranteo to Manteo's wigwam ? "

He would not come inside the palisade, and
Howe was not very anxious to have him, as he
felt he could not trust Barnes. But he took the
skin and messas^e to Mrs. Dare.

As she listened, her eyes filled with tears, and
she said, " How noble and good of Maneto !
But I will not leave the others. Can we not all
go now? Surely this dreadful night is enough."

Howe shook his head. " Those Indian bodies
outside craze the men. Nothing will satisfy
them now. Many of them would go through
anything in the world to shoot an Indian again.
But go with your baby ; you will be safer there
than here," he said.

"No," she replied firmly; "I will stay with
my people to the last. Thank him for me,
Howe, and tell him what I say."

VIRGINIA DARE. 61

Howe gave the message, and Ranteo went
away disappointed.

Hopeful Kent took very good care to keep in
as safe a place as possible during the fight, yet
he had an arrow wound in his left arm. Mrs.
Dare had bathed it, and was binding it up for
him, when Patience ran up and said, "Mistress
Wilkins wanted her in a hurry, please." She
went quickly to the elder-bush which sheltered
the place where Mrs. Harvey lay. She had
roused enough to take her poor baby. Mistress
Wilkins was bending over her ; just as Eleanor
Dare came up, she opened her eyes and looked
around as if to find some one. Then her lips
moved, and they could just hear her say,
" Martin ! " He heard her, and was by her side in
a second. But the lips had closed forever.

The baby stirred and began its mournful wail,
as Eleanor lifted it gently out of the mother's
arms, where it would never lie again. The
morning sun sent down a long golden ray,
which forced its way through the trees, and
lighted the pale face that was at rest forever.
The whole forest, birds and animals, seemed to
wake to life together, and began their hymn of
praise and thanksgiving just as Mistress Wil-
kins crossed the hands on the still breast, saying,

62 VIRGINIA DARE.

" Grant her eternal rest, O Lord, and may per-
petual light shine upon her ! "

Mrs. Harvey's death was one more horror
added to that awful night. All seemed too
much stunned by what they had been through,
to be shocked, or even much surprised, at any-
thing. Howe helped poor Martin Harvey to
make a rude coffin, in which they laid the body
of Elizabeth's mother. Patience gathered vines
and flowers, and laid them about the peaceful
face. At sunset the deposed Governor Gage
read the service, and they carried the coffin
away. The twins, poor little things, cried bit-
terly, as did the little rosy boy, and the big girl,
who tried hard to take her mother's place to the
other three. And the poor baby, Elizabeth,
wailed more sadly than ever.

Another night crept on, and the summer
seemed to have come back for a little while.
Though it was warm, not one star came out, and
Patience was afraid. Once more the dreadful
yell, once more the forest was alive with Wan-
chese's men. Fierce and wild was the fight
between the red and the white men. Here and
there the palisade began to yield; a blazing
arrow had set more than one place on fire. Cries
and yells again made the night hideous. The

VIRGINIA DARE. ' 63

owls and herons once more joined in with their
weird, screeching cry.

Mrs. Dare sat holding the two babies, the
women and children were huddled about her,
when Howe called her away out of their hearing.

"An hour more and the palisade must fall,
you must not be here then. You had better go
to Maneto quickly."

" How can we ? " she asked simply.

" I have a plan," he said. " It is dangerous,
but it is more dangerous for you to stay here ;
every moment makes the place less safe."

CHAPTER VI.

CHAPTER VI.

"Many are pains of life, I need not stay to count them;
there is no one but hath felt some of them, though unequally
they fall." — Ugo Bassi's Sermos.

Scarcely ten minutes had passed before the
group of women and children stood by a little
opening which Howe had made in the palisade,
through which they were to escape into the
forest. Howe stepped out first. Why should
the leaves rustle so? He fancied he heard a
noise near. An arrow might pierce him in a
second, or one of those frightful yells might
announce their discovery.

But no arrow came, and one by one the little
procession filed out behind him into the dark
forest. It was by no means easy work to keep
on. The underbrush crackled and scratched
the children's hands and feet until they cried
and had to be hushed. Only the baby Elizabeth
would not be silenced, though Mrs. Dare did all
she could to soothe her.

"They will certainly hear her and find us.

67

6S VIRGINIA BARE.

We'll be all scalped if you carry her any
farther," said one of the women.

But Mrs. Dare's answer silenced her. " If
either of the children is making noise enough
to endanger you all, we ought not to remain
together. I will keep behind till you are all
safe."

Mistress Wilkins was just behind, carrying
little Martin Harvey. He was a stout child,
really too heavy a load for the poor old woman,
yet she had energy enough left to turn savagely
on the first speaker. " You ought to be a heathen
savage with a red skin," she said, " to talk of
leaving a poor motherless baby alone in the
woods for the wild beasts. I wonder the Lord
don't send some of them out to tear 3^ou to
pieces. You are no Christian woman."

On, on they went, groping their way through
the darkness, often stumbling, sometimes fall-
ing, but keeping on bravely, carrying the chil-
dren, and helping the more frightened ones.
Suddenly they came to a clearing, and before
them stretched the great ocean. They all gath-
ered close together under the old trees that
shaded even the very edge of the bank. Then
Howe told them he must leave them while he
went to bring the boats. Most of the women

VIRGINIA DARE. 69

I
began to cry, saying they surely would be killed

without a man to protect them, until Eleanor

Dare said, in her quiet, decided way, " Go,

Howe, we are quite safe here among the trees

and bushes. The great danger will be when we

are on the water."

" You had better not talk, or even move ; and
be sure you do not answer any call, or speak to
any one, until the signal of a low whistle is
given," Howe said warningly, as he disappeared
into the forest.

It seemed a century since he left them ; it
was in fact only about thirty minutes before they
heard his whistle, and he appeared carrying an
end of one of the boats. Harvey was carrying
the other end, and behind them came two men
carrying another. Hopeful Kent was one, and
he was grumbling about the weight.

The boats were soon launched, the women
were getting in, Howe was lifting in the little
ones, when suddenly Hopeful Kent sprang into
the nearest boat and pushed it from the shore.
"What are you doing?" cried a dozen voices.
He only pushed the harder, muttering, " I hear
the red scoundrels coming." He was mistaken,
however : no one came, but they could not per-
suade him to come back. He said he had as

70 VIRGINIA DAEE.

big a load as he was going to row, and was soon
out of sight.

'* I dare not put another one in," Harvey said
to Howe, as the small boat dipped to the water's
edge. Mrs. Dare, who had refused to get in till
all were settled, still stood holding the two babies,
and by her Patience and Mistress Wilkins.
Howe looked at them helplessly for a moment,
then suddenly exclaimed, " I have an idea,
Harvey ! you and Thompson see this boat safely
to Croatoan. Tell them Mrs. Dare is coming,
and that it will be all right. If we do not come,
you had better come back and take the rest of
the men. I am going to try to steal two of the
canoes, if I am seen and caught, they will have
to wait for you ; be sure you come back." The
two men clasped hands for a moment, and the
boat slipped silently over the still water. Howe
told Mrs. Dare his plan ; leaving his hat, shoes,
and whatever else he did not need, he scrambled
along the bank just over the water. Ver}^ soon
he could see the palisade, and the torch-light
showed the Indians' ugly faces. He remembered
Governor White's directions about the name of
the place they should remove to, and as he
reached the edge of the little bay, he drew him-
self up to a tree, and taking out his knife began

VIRGINIA BAEE. 71

to carve the word Cro-ato-AN ; but only three
letters were done when he noticed a commotion
among the Indians, and fearing to be seen, he
slipped down into the water. It was strange
that the Indians had left the canoes unguarded,
but they looked upon the pale-faces as a stupid
race, and they felt so sure that they were all
enclosed behind the palisade, they had left only
one man to watch the boats. He was more
interested in the fight than in his duty, and
hearing the unusual commotion which was
caused by a small portion of the palisade giving
way, he had gone up the bank to see how things
were going on, thus leaving the canoes un-
guarded, ready for Howe to take his choice.
Howe swam across the little bay; reaching a
small tree, he drew himself up by it, and lying
flat on the ground pulled one of the light
canoes towards him, and pushed it into the water
without a sound. Then came the thought, if all
the canoes were in the water their owners could
not possibly pursue save by land. It required
only strength and caution, both of which Howe
possessed. Steadily he drew down first one and
then another, till all but one canoe, and the two
largest and lightest, which he had decided to
take for Mrs. Dare, were floating away silently

72 VIRGINIA BABE.

on the smooth water ; then he carefully brought
to the water his chosen two ; the other lay
among dry leaves on the bank, and he decided
not to run the risk of its rustling betraying him.
Fastening the two together, he stepped into one,
and let the tide carry him far out before he
used the paddle ; no one had seen him, or heard
a sound. The Indians always believed and
declared that their canoes had been floated away
by the water spirit, who was angry with them,
but spared their medicine-man's canoe, which
was the one that lay among the leaves. Howe
was pretty well worn out when he reached the
sheltered spot where the anxious watchers waited
for him. He told them of his adventure, and
that he felt very sure the palisade could hold
out only a little while longer, and that he was
too worn out to paddle them to Croatoan, but if
they would wait only a few minutes more, he
would go to the palisade and send some one
to them.

"And you, Howe," Mrs. Dare asked, "what
will become of 3^ou ? "

The men will soon need a place to hide or
retreat to, then I will biing them here. Thomp-
son and Harvey will come back for us." He
had hardly finished speaking before he was
gone, and they sat quietly waiting.

VIRGINIA DARE. 73

Who would come, and when? The mo-
ments rolled on like hours. The night wind
sighed in the pines till it seemed like a human
moan. A great cry suddenly pierced the still-
ness; it was from the Indians, and yet it was
not their war-whoop, rather a mournful cry.
It sounded again and again, and then died
away.

"Either they have discovered the canoes are
gone, or they have broken down the palisade;
you can rarely tell whether they are sorry or
glad," Mrs. Dare said.

'*If it is their canoes," said Mistress Wilkins,
" they will come along the shore for them, and
we shall surely be found."

" Let us still hope and pray," Mi-s. Dare said
feebly.

" Hark ! " whispered Patience, " I am sure I
hear some one coming." The twigs were crack-
ing and the underbrush breaking. It was not
Howe's decided step either. No, nor was it
Howe's voice that said, "Mrs. Dare, your father
left me in his place, to guide and govern his
people. As none of them wish me to do either
at present, I am sure he would say my duty was
with you. Howe says we must go off at
once."

74 VIRGINIA DARE.

She thanked him as he helped Mistress Wil-
kins and Patience into one canoe, and herself
and the two babies into the other.

" The tide runs directly to Croatoan, so we can
float most of the way without paddling," Gage
said, as the canoes, fastened together, floated
quietly away from the shore into the stillness
and darkness of night.

Howe, after leaving the little party on the
shore, went back to the palisade ; he found the
men fighting like true Englishmen, but he man-
aged to explain to Gage the condition of the
women ; and then, after seeing him safely off,
he went to work with a will: every one was
needed.

The palisade was fast giving away, several
large holes were plainly to be seen ; the Indians
were fighting with all the power of their wild,
savage nature. If they once got through the
palisade, every white man must die; then he
thought of the women and children, and won-
dered if Manteo would receive them kindly, or
if he would resent Ranteo's treatment. As he
fought and tried to encourage the men, his
thoughts ran on quickly. He thought of the
future, and Governor White's return ; who would
tell him where to find what was left of the

VIRGINIA BARE. 75

little colony ? surely the three letters on the tree
over the little bay would not. He slipped
down from his place, having just thrown over
his adversary whom he was fighting with hand
to hand. Opening his pocket-knife, he found a
large tree that would be easily seen, stripped
the bark off about five feet from the ground,
and on the smooth surface he carved in clear,
old English characters, Croatoan. He had
just finished the " n," when a sudden pain made
him lose his hold on the branch. He tried to
raise himself to put the cross over the word, as
the governor had said to do if in danger or dis-
tress, but he could not move. He could only
lie there listening to the cries and war-whoops,
and now and then a groan from a dying or
wounded man. Above all, he could hear the
sad call of the night heron ; he could see that
the Indians had broken away the palisade and
were rushing in. How many seconds before
they would find him, he wondered. The vision
of a gray stone church across the sea came before
him, where he had learned from his very baby-
hood the truths and lessons which had made
him a blessing and a credit to his country, and
enabled him to lie there now facing death with-
out a fear. He thought of the dear old face of

76 VIRGINIA DARE.

his rector, remembered his last words at parting,
and the promise of his prayers. " Such prayers
must be heard on high," he muttered. "I have
forgotten many of his holy teachings, but the
dear Lord will be merciful and forgiving. He
will, he will."

An Indian was coming very near ; but what
was that cry ? It came from the Indians that
were outside the palisade. Those who had
forced their way in seemed to be retreating.
He longed to ask, but there was no one near
enough. Presently all became still, except for
the low, sad wail that came from the outside.
The white men were evidently astonished, but
were taking advantage of the lull to patch up
the palisade.

Presently a man came near, and asked, " Who
are you.? " Howe answered, asking at the same
time, " What has stopped the fight ? "

" That's more than we can tell," was the reply.
" It's something on the shore, though ; some-
thing makes them think their gods are angry,
for they have stopped fighting, and are offering
gifts and dancing dances to one of their spirits.
It is a good thing for us, anyway."

"Put any of the Indians that have been
wounded or killed outside, then come back to

VIRGINIA DARE. 77

me," said Howe, "and I will tell you some-
thing."

After half an hour the man, came back, and
three others with him.

" Are you hurt ? " he asked.

" Yes," said Howe, " it's an arrow just above
my shoulder, I think, but it is broken off."

The men could feel the end of the arrow,
and with great difficulty, and causing him much
pain, they drew it out.

" How are our men ? " he asked, as soon as he
could speak.

" It's hard to tell exactly, but they're mostly
all wounded more or less, and there are thirteen
killed," was the answer.

" We must not stay here : we cannot tell what
those savages will do next ; but first, we must
hide Governor White's boxes," said Howe.

There was a little silence, then one of the
men said, " We might as well tell you the worst,
you have got to come to it. We're all sorry,
but it can't be helped. There wasn't one among
'em like my old woman, 'Ilda, though the
'eathen dogs have done away with every woman
and child we 'ad."

Howe almost laughed as he replied, " I was
the heathen dog. I helped them to go to Croa-

78 VIRGINIA VAEE.

toan, where we must go as soon as possible.
That's what happened to the Indians in the
middle of fighting; they must have suddenly
discovered that their canoes were gone, and, I
dare say, thought some of their gods had spirited
them away."

" Thank 'eaven, thank 'eaven ! " cried the
first speaker, falling on his knees. " Thank
'eaven for my Tlda ! "

They saw that Howe was exhausted, and left
him resting on the ground while they went to
work. An hour later Governor White's trunks
were buried, and all the little treasures they
could carry were packed in bundles, and all was
made ready to leave Roanoke.

Howe and Barnes were both too seriously
wounded to walk ; they were laid on rude biers
and carried. The dead men had been buried ;
others, who were only slightly wounded, walked,
though in more or less pain. The way through
the forest was a rough one, but their courage
kept them up. At last the bank was reached,
and in a sheltered hiding-place they found
Thomson and Harvey waiting with the largest
boat; the other, they said, had not reached
Croatoan when they left. They had also sev-

VIRGINIA DARE. 79

eral of the floating canoes, which they had cap-
tured on their way back. As day dawned, they
found all that remained of the English colony
on the shores of Croatoan, waiting to see how
the chief Manteo would treat them.

CHAPTER VII.

CHAPTER VII.

"She had eyes of sunniest English blue;
She had tresses of golden hair ;
Her cheeks were tipped with the hawthorn's hue ;
Her name, Virginia Dare."

Manteo, true to the faith he professed, for-
gave and forgot, or rather he never spoke of his
warning, or Ranteo's strange visit to Roanoke ;
when he understood that the white tribe were
in trouble, and had fled to him for protection,
he solemnly held out his hand to Mrs. Dare,
then handed her a long pipe, seeming to take it
for granted that she filled her father's place.
She went bravely at it for a few minutes in sight
of all Manteo's warriors, who watched her with a
strange awe ; then he took the pipe from her
and led her to a wigwam, where she was to stay
while the refugees were provided for by the
Indians.

The autumn days slipped by, and the winter
came. It was a mild winter, even for that part
of the country; and as it broke, and the first
mild, balmy spring days came, the settlers began

83

84 VIRGINIA DARE.

to watch for the governor's return. Day after
day they looked, but the mild spring melted
into the heat of summer, and yet he did not
come.

Hopeful Kent and his boat-load that left
Roanoke in such a hurry that night had never
been seen or even heard of; they had either
been drowned, or captured by Wanchese's men.
Autumn again began to paint the trees yellow
and red, yet no sign of a sail ; the men were
growing discontented, and gave up watching for
the ships they would never see, and went more
ardently at their grumbling.

One night, nearly fifteen months after Gov-
ernor White and his fleet had left the shore of
Virginia, the men's discontent, which had been
smouldering like a choked fire, burst into a
blaze of defiant rebellion, and on that same night
they slipped away in the darkness. Sixty of
the men whom Manteo had sheltered and cared
for more than a year went to Wanchese. Barnes
was the leader in this, as in the former troubles ;
but he did not tell the men all he meant to do ;
he knew them too well to expect them to agree
to anything so base as this plan. In truth, he
meant to betray Manteo. Wanchese listened
to his proposal ^vith disdain and distrust, then

VIRGINIA DABE. 85

he cried, " Such a dog shall not live I " and with
a blow of his tomahawk Barnes fell dead.
Many of the men were killed, others were
branded and kept as slaves.

Life was more quiet and peaceful after the
discontented were gone. Of course there were
sad hearts among the women and children for
a while, for some had lost husbands and fathers.
The weaker ones broke down utterly with the
life of exposure and hardship. More than one
grave had been made ; the Indians looking on in
awe and wonder at the Christian burial. Mrs.
Dare had learned many Indian words, and in a
quiet way she had done much for the neglected
women and children, for there were such among
those poor savages, as there are to-day in our
own civilized towns and villages ; and in that
way she won not only their hearts, but the
hearts of the men also. There is no surer way
in the world to a man's heart than through his
children.

All this time the baby Virginia grew. The
soft down on her round head had clianged
to a halo of golden curls. Her eyes had
grown large and deep like the sea; some-
times a sparkling, laughing blue, and sometimes
almost a gray when a cloud of sorrow crept

86 VIRGINIA DARE.

across her little horizon. She was not afraid
of anything, and nothing seemed to harm her.
The cold rain or the hot sun never made her
ill ; she seemed to open like a flower, gaining
strength and beauty from all that nature gave.
One day when swinging in her willow cradle
under the blue sky, laughing and playing with
her toes, as children do, the old woman or
mother of the tribe, bent and wrinkled, browned
and weather-beaten, came slowly up the hill
with several of the squaws. Patience sat on
the ground holding the baby Elizabeth, who, as
soon as she saw the old squaw, gave a wild cry
of fear, and buried her face on Patience's
shoulder, moaning and sobbing. The old
woman shook her head, and passed on to the
willow cradle. Little Virginia looked up at
the ugly old face for some time, as if she were
studying it. Then she stretched out her tiny
white hands with a pretty baby laugh. The
squaw bent over the cradle ; Virginia cooed and
smoothed the brown, wrinkled cheek ; a murmur
of delight passed through the group of Indian
women. Mrs. Dare, who had come to the door
of the wigwam, lifted the baby from its cradle,
and tried to put her in the old Indian's arms ;
but she drew back, clasping her hands and mut-

VIRGINIA DARE. 87

tering as she looked up towards the sky. The
other squaws acted in the same way. Ran-
teo, who had just come up, explained to Mrs.
Dare that his people had never seen a papoose
with blue eyes before, and they would not touch
it, for they thought it must be a spirit. From
that day Virginia received presents of all kinds,
from the skin of a bison to the wing of an eagle.
Her baby clothes were worn out long ago, and
she lay wrapped in skins, like any papoose.

She was a little more than a year and a half
old when Howe went with Gage to see if there
was any sign of Governor White's fleet. They
never came back. Life went on quietly at Croa-
toan. The men went to their hunt, or, in their
gaudy paint and war toggery, went to fight.
The women beat out their vessels, or wove bas-
kets, and dried skins. The children played
at their sham wars, or went on their imaginary
hunts, or sang their songs full of myths and
mysteries.

The summer that Virginia was three years old,
she was playing under the willow-trees outside
the wigwam with little Elizabeth, whom she
had nicknamed Beth, and whom she was truly
fond of ; the only one in the world who loved
the fretful, delicate child with a love that was

88 VIRGINIA DARE.

not mingled with pity. They were playing
quietly together, when a squaw, holding a little
boy by the hand, came near and stood watching
them. Beth at once stopped playing and began
to cry, while Virginia smiled at the little boy,
who was several years her senior, and held out
her hand, saying, " Will you come play ? " He
came to her, but stood more like a soldier on
duty than a child ready for play. The two
looked curiously at each other for several mo-
ments. The boy, pointing to Virginia's great
blue eyes and then to the blue bird he held
in his hand, exclaimed, "Owaissa! Owaissa!"
then he laid the bird on her golden curls ; and
when, after a long play, he went away, the
squaw who had charge of him urged him to
take the bird back, for it was the most loved of
all his toys. He shook his head and angrily re-
fused. He was Iosco, Manteo's son ; and after
that he came often to the willow-tree and played
with Owaissa, as he called her. As she grew
older and was able to play with Iosco and the
other Indian children, she was known among
them only as Owaissa.

yirginia was nearly six when Mrs. Dare be-
gan to give up all hopes of seeing the English
ships that were to bring her husband and father.

VIRGINIA BARE. 89

The hard, rough life of exposure had made
great changes in the young and beautiful woman
who had sailed from England a happy bride only
a little more than seven years before. She
looked twenty years older ; her wavy brown
hair was gray ; her complexion was burnt and
sallow. She lived only for her little daughter,
and what good she could do among the poor
heathen, who fairly worshipped her. She had
taught Virginia to read. When six years old,
the child knew all the old familiar Bible stories,
and she could sing many of the old hymns and
and psalms. Thus the education of the first
American-born child slowly progressed.

The squaw who waited on Iosco, whose name
was Adwa, was very fond of both children : her
own, she said, had all gone to the Happy Hunt-
ing Ground. She would tell them stories by
the hour, while the three children sat listening
breathlessly, for Virginia always insisted upon
bringing Beth in for whatever was going on.
As the squaw sat and parched the corn, she
would tell them of Mondamin, and how the
young Indian fasted and prayed for no selfish
purpose, but for the profit of his people ; and
how he wrestled with and conquered Mondamin,
because of his prayer to the Great Spirit. Or

90 VIRGINIA DARE.

as they sat by the water she would tell them
how the Puk-Wudjie fed the great fish, or how
they killed Kwasind. Or they would watch the
clouds clear away after a storm, and Adwa
would tell them how the little flowers that died
on earth bloomed again in the rainbow. As
they sat in the grov/ing darkness, watching the
little fire-flies, she taught them the Indian
children's good-night song : —

" Fire-fly, fire-fly, bright little thing,
Light me to bed, and my song I will sing!
Give me your light as you fly o'er my head,
That I may merrily go to my bed.
Give me your light, o'er the grass as you creep.
That I may joyfully go to my sleep.
Come, little fire-fly, come, little beast,
Come, and I'll make you to-morrow a feast.
Come, little candle, that flies as I sing.
Bright little fairy-bug, night's little king.
Come, and I'll dance as you guide me along,
Come, and I'll pay you, my bug, with a song !"

Beth could not learn the song ; in fact, she
had learned very little of the Indian language,
w^liile Virginia spoke it quite as well as English.
In return for Adwa's tales of Indian lore, Vir-
ofinia would often tell the Bible stories she loved
so well, old fables, or wonderful fairy tales ; she
even taught Iosco her favorite hymn. In this

VIRGINIA BABE. 91

way the first six years of her life were passed,
and her intellect and imagination were devel-
oped. In the same proportion she gained
strength and vigor from the active games of
the Indian children. She could climb a tree as
nimbly as a squirrel, keep up with any child of
her own size in the race, scramble down a steep
cliff, or run over a narrow bridge formed only
of a branch, as if she were in truth an Owaissa.
Her life was light-hearted and sunny : no cloud
of sorrow had yet obscured its baby brightness.
But a dark cloud was fast gathering. Even
when the cloud had broken away, the sun would
never again be as bright as it had been before.

CHAPTER VIII.

? J

CHAPTER VIII.

" O the long and dreary winter I
O the cold and cruel winter !
Ever thicker, thicker, thicker
Froze the ice on lake and river,
Ever deeper, deeper, deeper
Fell the snow o'er all the landscape."
4 / iS ii ^ ' Longfellow.

The winter after Virginia was seven years
old was one which could never be forgotten by
those who lived through it. The snow fell
thick and fast for days together. Then came a
cold wind, which blew until the streams were
frozen like iron, and the great snow mounds
became as mountains of shining metal. The
wind sang dirges among the leafless trees ; the
hunters went out day after day, and returned
empty-handed; the forest seemed deserted by
all living things. The childi-en cried for food,
and not getting it, sickened and died. The
women made fires and offered gifts to the Great
Spirit of the Hunt. Manteo and his Christian
people offered prayers daily. But all appeared
to be of no avail.

95

96 VIRGINIA DARE.

Mrs. Dare was lying on her tussan of skins,
and Virginia kneeling by her, with her arms
tightly round her mother's neck. They were
talking as they often did together. Virginia
was saying, "But, mamma, v^hj does God send
trouble and sorrow and pain to us if he really
loves us ? "

" It is just because he does love us, darling,
that he sends us soitow to lead us to love
him," was the gentle reply.

" But, mamma, dearest, you love God, yet he
sends you so much pain. And you have not
enough to eat, either. It cannot be to make
you love him," said Virginia.

" Yes, my darling ; we may love him all our
lives, and yet not give him all the love we owe
him. He never sends a pain or sorrow that is
not for our good, though we cannot always
knov/ why it is. When you were a very little
girl, almost a baby, and your gums were so sore,
it was because I loved you and v/anted to save
you from pain that I lanced the sore place and
gave you great pain just for a moment. You
could not understand why then, even if I had
explained it to you, but you never doubted my
love. You knew I would not hurt you un-
necessarily. We must trust God in the same

VIRGINIA DARE. 97

way, dear, for he loves us even more than I
love you."

" O mamma ! you make me good ; when I am
with you I can do anything. I don't even mind
being hungry ; " and Virginia's great blue eyes
were full of tears as she looked into her mother's
face.

" Darling, you must learn to be good without
me ; we may not always be together, you
know."

Mrs. Dare spoke with so much feeling that
Virginia started and looked pained. But before
she could speak, the skin that hung in front of
the doorway was drawn aside, and Manteo came
in. He sat down, with bowed head, and with-
out speaking a word. Virginia, who liad learned
to love him, sat quietly at first. She knew he
must be in very great trouble over the suffer-
ings of his people, and her loving heart was full
of sympathy.

At last she crept softly to him, and laid her
curly head on his brown hand. Her eyes told
more than words could express. With a great
effort he raised his head.

" The Great Spirit, the mighty Werowance,
has forgotten us, or he is angry. The people
die, and there is no food. Manteo's own child

98 VIRGINIA DARE.

Iosco has the curse. There is no food to give
him ; he must die."

" No ! " cried Virginia, " God will not let
Iosco die. Have you asked him for food for
Iosco, Werowance Manteo? I know he will
save him."

"All night," replied Manteo, "under the stars
on the cold snow did Manteo talk with God.
But he would not hear him."

Mrs. Dare had risen. Manteo could not fail
to notice how frail and ill she looked, as she
came toward him. She drew the skin that lay-
over the couch around her as she said, " Manteo,
take me to Iosco ! "

He sprang up, a gleam of hope in his dark
eyes. " Will the lady go to Iosco ? " he cried.
" Will she ask the Great Spirit to save the boy's
life ? Her god will hear her voice, though it be
soft as a morning breeze in the budding time."

They passed out into the biting wind, the tall
chief bowed with grief, the delicate English
lady, and the sweet child with golden hair, and
walked over the frozen snow to Manteo's wig-
w^am. Mrs. Dare bent over Iosco as he lay on
a tussan of balsam on the floor of the wigwam,
restless witli fever. She stroked the dark hair
back from the flushed forehead, and then turn-

VIRGINIA BABE. 99

ing to Virginia, said in English, " Go and ask
Mistress Wilkins to give you the red herbs, and
bring them to me quickly, dear."

Virginia flew over the snow, and returned
with the herbs in a small iron pot that had been
brought from Roanoke, before the squaws
crouching around the wigwam thought she had
time even to reach Mistress "Wilkins. Mrs.
Dare stirred up the fire which was smouldering
on the floor of the wigwam, prepared the herbs
carefully, and boiled them in the iron pot. Poor
Iosco lay gasping, delirious, and exhausted.
Manteo thought he was dying, and caught Mrs.
Dare's hand almost fiercely as he cried, "Ask
the Great Spirit ! Oh, ask him quickly ! "

She knelt down quietly by the poor boy, Vir-
ginia knelt too, and all followed their example.
There had been regular hours for prayer before
Howe and Gage had been lost ; since then, all
were welcome who cared to come to Mrs. Dare's
wigwam for devotions. She felt keenly a
woman's dislike to put herself conspicuously
before the world, even though it were a little
heathen world; but she had taught them a
great deal in a quiet way. They felt she was
their friend; they knew and loved her. And
now with her simple words of prayer every

100 VIRGINIA DARE.

heart in that rude cabin was lifted to the great
Father above. Mrs. Dare gave Iosco the herb-
tea that had been simmering over the fire. The
hot di'aught and her gentle ministration soothed
the poor boy, and he fell into a quiet sleep.
Manteo still knelt on the floor. When he saw
his boy sleeping sweetly, he exclaimed, "The
Father is great and good, but he is angry with
the redman, and will not hear his voice. Only
the voices of the Blue-eyes reach his camp."

" Oh, no ! " said Mrs. Dare earnestly. " Oh,
no, Werowance Manteo! The great Father
loves us all, and he hears your prayers as soon
as you speak. Ask him now to guide you, and
go to the forest and hunt, for Iosco must have
something to strengthen him when he awakes."

"Will the white lady speak to the Great
Spirit for Manteo while he goes and hunts?"
he asked.

"I will, indeed," she replied. And Manteo
silently took his bow and arrows and left the
wigwam.

For hours Iosco slept peacefully. At sunset
his father returned, to the great joy and delight
of every one, bringing with him the flesh of a
young bear. Mrs. Dare prepared a dainty dish,
and told Virginia to give Iosco a little when he

VIRGINIA DARE. 101

first awakened, and to come and tell her how he
was ; that she was going back to her own wig-
wam for a while. Virginia was a very sensible
little woman for only seven years old. She was
born with the rare and blessed gift of a true
nurse ; and though there were five squaws in
the wigwam, they let her sit close to the patient,
feeling that she had a sort of supernatural
power. They w^ere afraid when her mother
went away ; but, as Iosco grew no worse, they
decided Virginia must have the same power
with the Great Spirit. When at last Iosco
stirred and opened his eyes, one of them handed
Virginia the food, that her hand might put it to
his lips. He smiled at her as he took a little of
the food, and then he went to sleep again. She
slipped away to tell her mother the good news
that Iosco was certainly better. Virginia stepped
out of the wigwam into the cold night air. How
the wind howled I The silver moonlight lay on
everything, making the world in its white wind-
ing-sheet ghastly enough. The cold desolation
seemed to freeze Virginia's heart. She shud-
dered as she ran on. Here was Beth coming to
meet her. " Dear Beth, how good you are to
come ! Iosco is better. But what's the matter ? "
she asked, as Beth drew her toward the light

102 VIRGINIA DARE.

that shone from the wigwam. Mistress Wilkins
was there, and two old squaws, she saw as she
reached the doorway. And her mother, where
was she ? A cry broke from Virginia as she
saw her lying white and motionless on the bed.
She threw herself on her knees, and laying her
head on her mother's breast she cried ascain and
again, " Mamma, dearest mamma ! Oh, speak
to me just once, your own little girl. Open
your eyes, please ! Do look at me, oh, please,
mamma."

But the still, calm face lay against the black
robe, in that peace which sorrow or pain alike
are powerless to disturb.

A hemorrhage had come on just after she had
left Iosco. She never spoke again, but lay with
folded hands till the angel of death closed her
eyes forever. Virginia was alone.

CHAPTER IX.

CHAPTER IX.

** To cure heartache is godfather Time's business, and even
he is not invariably successful." — J. H. Ewing.

When great sorrow comes to us in youth, we
feel it must affect and change the whole world;
but when we have lived longer in this change-
able world, we take it for granted that the
whirl of life will go on as usual, only we our-
selves drop out for a little while, to fight with
our heartache alone, and to conquer it, with
God's help, ere we take up the busy thread of
our life again with placid faces, just as if our
thread and shuttle were as bright and beautiful
as before ; and perhaps when all our work looks
gray to us, we are weaving the most perfect and
beautiful pattern.

Poor little Virginia had never thought of life
without her mother, until that conversation
which Manteo had interrupted; and then her
mind was so full of Iosco's sickness that she did
not think of her mother's words again until that

105

ti,if.=^>*^'

106 VIRGINIA DARE.

dreadful moment came when she called and
called, and no answer came from those still lips,
and she knew that her mother would never hold
her in her arms again and kiss her. Everything
went on just as before, except that the frost
soon changed to a thaw, game became more
plentiful, and the suffering less. But not so
Virginia's sorrow: it was so deep and intense
for a while, Mistress Wilkins thought it would
wear her young life out. Beth was her great
comfort through this lonely time: she was one
to love, one who really needed her, and the two
children truly loved each other. Iosco grew
quite strong after a time : he never forgot what
Mrs. Dare had done for him, and that it was in
saving his life she had hastened her own death.
He had always been fond of Virginia, and now
his love was mingled with gratitude. There
was hardly an hour of the day he did not bring

^>1 some little offering for "Owaissa," or tell her
stories, or sing songs to her. Time softens the

s greatest and sharpest sorrow. Let us thank
God for it : we should die were it not so.
Though Virginia's heart was nearly broken by
her mother's death, and she wished that she too
, . might die, she did not die, but took her life up
bravely after a while; helping those among

VIRGINIA BARE. 107

whom she lived and whom she really loved;
gathering flowers and forest treasures in the
summer ; watching the birds build their nests,
and the trees put on their pretty dresses in
budding-time ; helping in the work, and play-
ing merry games through roasting-ear time; in
the fall of the leaf gathering acorns and nuts,
and in winter sitting with others around the
wigwam fires of cedar-wood, and listening to
the stories which the old men told.

So the years passed by, and Owaissa grew
from a child to a girl. She was tall and
slender; her eyes had a more thoughtful ex-
pression than when she was a child, but in
other ways she was unchanged. She grew up a
perfectly natural girl, full of the poetry and
romance of the wild people of the forest. Iosco
was still her devoted friend: she looked upon
him as a brother. They wandered through the
forest together, gathering flowers or acorns or
sweet grasses. Sometimes they sat down and
rested on the banks of a little stream, and told
each other stories. Iosco's were of the wild
Indian lore. He told her of Odjibwa and the
Red Swan, of Hiawatha and his Minnehaha.
One day they sat on the bank of a little stream
which rushed on, making a tiny waterfall just

108 VIRGINIA BABE.

below, which sang to them ; so Iosco thought, as
he sat there with Owaissa, while overhead the
pines waved their lofty branches, and the soft
breezes whispered love-songs among them.
Wild-flowers and delicate mosses nestled about
their feet. All around, laurel blossoms made
the forest beautiful and the air fragrant. Birds
were flying to and fro, and from a near tree a
whip-poor-will was singing to its mate, as if
it were telling its love. Iosco was watching
Virginia. She looked more like an angel than
ever, as she sat with her golden hair falling in
masses over her mantle of doe-skins, her slender
hands clasped while she listened to the water
and the birds.

Her eyes of deepest blue were looking
thoughtfully far away. Iosco was fond of
Virginia, very fond; but he never thought of
her as he did of the Indian maidens. The mo-
ments he spent with her were the happiest in
his life. When they walked hand in hand, a
strange thrill passed tlirough him. He would
have died for her willingly, had there been any
need. His quick eye saw now that she was sad
as she sat listening ; and he drew closer to her
as he asked, "Where do Owaissa^s thoughts
go, that they send such sorrow out of her
eyes?"

VIRGINIA DARE. 109

"Iosco," she said, "mamma would tell me if
she were here, that I ought to be thankful for
all God has given me. I often fancy when I
sit alone that I can hear her telling me just as
she used to, that it is one's duty not only to be
contented, but to be cheerful and happy. I
think I am usually, don't you, Iosco ? "

He nodded as he replied, " Owaissa is like a
bird, her eyes are so bright, her laugh is so
merry."

"I try to be," she went on, "and I am very
happy indeed. Every one is so kind to me ;
but sometimes I can't help wishing very much
that I could see some of my own people. I
should like to know if my father is alive, and if
he sometimes thinks of me. He went away
when I was only ten days old: I know he could
not forget his baby."

They sat silently for a few minutes, then Vir-
ginia looked up into Iosco's face. " You know,"
she said softly, "sometimes I feel sure my
father will come for me and take me away."

Had she felt Iosco's hand, she would have
been astonished at its icy coldness, and would
have wondered what made him clinch his fingers
as if he were in pain. From that day a wild
dread of the white man's return haunted Iosco.

110 VIRGINIA DARE.

An Indian never shows his emotion, so he only-
said quietly, "Did I ever tell Owaissa the
story of Battao? It is a beautiful one from the
far north, a captive of my father's told it to me."

"No: you never told it to me. I should like
to hear it," Virginia said, with a little sigh.

Iosco would have made an ideal picture as he
sat there. His black hair was thrown back
from a high forehead, beneath which two dark
eyes looked out, which were remarkable for
their depth and truth. He had a straight, well-
cut nose, and a mouth almost severe, so firm
and decided was its expression. When he
smiled, one forgot the stern look, for a sweet,
gentle expression transformed the face. It was
a classical face, and its owner had a deep sense
and appreciation of the poetry of life. Certainly
they made a study for an artist, — the fair girl
with her golden hair, and the graceful figure of
the Indian, as he told her the quaint old Indian
legend.

"Many, many moons back, in the sunny
north, over towards the setting sun, lived a
mighty Werowance whom they called Tyee.
His lands stretch all along the beautiful sound,
where fine wampum is found. This Tyee had a
daughter. The name of the beautiful maid was

VIRGINIA DARE. Ill

Battao. Every one, even those far away, knew
of the rich wampum and the fine furs that would
belong to the man who should take Battao for
his wife. Her father said she should go to no
man whom she did not love, and he kept firmly
to this, though chiefs of great tribes came to
win her, and many from every part sought her.
Battao would look at none of them.

" One day a brave warrior came, tall and hand-
some. Battao looked at him, trusted his brave
eyes, and loved him. As they floated over the
smooth waters in Battao's swift canoe, they
came to a beautiful island, where they sat on
the shore and talked. And many days when
the sun had gone half-way on its journey, and
done its day's baking, so that the air was as
that which comes from the fire, Battao and her
maidens would cross to the beautiful island,
and there her lover would tell them strange
stories. As they listened, the maidens sifted
the soft sea-sand through their fingers, and as
it fell upon the shore it formed the shape of
whatever Battao's lover was saying ; there it
hardened, and yet may be found, and it brings
the favor of all the gods to any one who finds
one of the forms and wears it in his wampum
belt."

112 VIRGINIA DARE,

" Oh, I should like to see some of the shapes,
Iosco, wouldn't you ? " asked Virginia.

"Yes," he said, "I should; and I should like
to go to that land, it is so sunny, our captive
said."

" It could not be more lovely than it is here,"
Virginia replied; "but please go on and tell
me what became of Battao."

Iosco was happy for the present; at least he
had made Owaissa forget the white tribe, and
the canoes with pinions like wings, that she had
said she was sure would come. So he went on
gladly : —

"One day, when Battao, with her lover in
her canoe, and all her maids in their canoes,
were going back from the beautiful island, as
they came to the deep part of the water, Battao's
lover said some words to her in a strange lan-
guage that the maiden could not understand,
then sprang into the water. Battao did not
cry out, she only looked down where her lover
had disappeared; so did her maidens. But he
did not rise, nor could they see anything of him,
and they went home to their people. When
they told the strange story, all the people said
Battao's lover had drowned himself, and other
men began to come every hour. But Battao

VIRGINIA DARE. 113

would not look at them or their presents, saying
that her lover was not dead, that he said before
he jumped into the water he would come
back in twelve days. None of her people be-
lieved Battao ; and her maids went into the
wood, wailing and mourning for her loss. But
every day when the sun was half-way on its
journey, she would call her maids from the
wood and lead them down to the water. Then
they would paddle their canoes to the place
where Battao's lover had disappeared, and she
would look down into the water, in which she
could see the clouds, the sun, and even the trees
and mountains, all looking at themselves. She
saw not the brave and handsome lover until the
twelfth day came. And then, while she looked
down, he sprang up out of the shining water
into Battao's canoe."

" Oh, how happy she must have been ! " cried
Virginia.

"Yes, very happy," continued Iosco, "and
all of Battao's people; for her lover brought
many presents with him, rare and wonderful
flowers that grow in the sea, and large pearls.
For Battao he brought beautiful coral. Then
there was a great happiness among all the peo-
ple ; for Battao and her lover were married. As

114 VIRGINIA DARE.

they paddled out in their canoe one day soon
after, Battao asked her lover where he went to
down in the water. He told her his people
lived there, and he wanted her to go and see
his tribe, where they hunted whales and seals,
and gathered pearls and coral and beautiful
shells, such as she had never seen. She took
his hand, and together they sprang into the
shining water. All the maidens, seeing the
water swallow Battao up, gave a great cry that
shook the whole forest. But she called out to
them that she would come back to see her
father. All her people mourned for her, and
said some evil spirit must have taken her, and
she must now be a fish in the water. But on
the twelfth day she came to her people and to
her father's wigwam, and told great and wonder-
ful stories of the things she had seen. And she
brought beautiful presents to her father, and
to all her people. When she would go back,
her father bowed down and grieved so that he
would have died, but that she put her hand on
his breast and promised him that while he lived
his daughter would be with him six moons
every year. And so she was; the rest of the
time she was with her husband in the big sea-
water. But she still remembered and loved her

VIRGINIA DARE. 115

people, and warns them of storms, even to this
day, our captive said. She is seen over the
place where she and her lover went down, and
she looks tall and misty. No one dares come
near her, for something dreadful has happened
to all who have ever tried; before every dread-
ful storm she comes, and the people call the
island to which she and her maidens went to
listen to the lover's wonderful stories, the island
of Battao."

They sat silently for a few moments, when
Iosco had finished the story ; then Virginia
asked, " Do you think, Iosco, that all can tell
whether they will love each other when they
look at each other for the first time ? "

There was a strange look in Iosco's eyes, as
he answered, " Iosco can tell little about such
things, Owaissa ; some people surely could."

After another pause, Virginia said, "• Your
stories are so beautiful, Iosco, and I love them ;
but they make me wish that I knew more of
the stories of my people ; there must be many
that I have never heard, and even some of those
my mother told me I have forgotten. I ought to
have remembered them, and then I could tell
you them, and teach you more about our God.
I speak of him only to you, Iosco, for I know

116 VIRGINIA DARE.

SO little ; I cannot even remember for myself ;
and when I try to talk to Mistress Wilkins
about him, she shakes her head and says, ' Oh !
he has forgotten us. If he loved us he would
take us from this place ; don't speak to me about
him, child, this is not his land. He cannot
hear us when we speak to him. There is no
priest or altar to hallow the land.' But, Iosco,
when I am alone in the forest sometimes, and
all is still, I can almost hear him speaking to
me, and I feel and know that he is close to me,
and I want so much to know him. I can only
kneel down and say as mamma used, ' Dear Lord,'
and I know he heai'S me. Beth or Patience
or any of the others does not know as much as
I: they have forgotten, or were never taught
as I was, and you know I could not ask any of
the men. Patience says they are the very
worst that came over from England. I wish
you knew, Iosco."

He did not reply; and they sat quietly to-
gether, only the song of the little birds above,
and the sound of the falling water broke the
perfect stillness.

CHAPTER X.

CHAPTER X.

** There are momeats in life of real sorrow, when we judge
things by a higher standard, and care vastly little what people
say." — J. H. EwiNG.

" And the forests dark and lonely,
Moved through all their depths of darkness,
Sighed, ' Farewell.' " Longfellow.

Manteo was a wise and brave chief, as well
as a good and thoughtful one, and was much
loved by his people. The dozen Englishmen
who yet remained as the remnant of the Roan-
oke settlers could not understand the reverence
with which the savages treated their leader.
His word was law. . His decisions were just,
without regard to whom he was judging.

One autumn the twelve white men sat at
their work of hollowinof wooden bowls. As
they worked, they talked about their future, and
the prospect of seeing England again, which all
confessed was very small.

" I tell you," said one, who looked strangely
like Jack Barnes, and was, in fact, his brother,
"I tell you what it is, fellows, we'll never see
England if we wait for those lazy cowards to

119

#

120 VIRGINIA DARE.

come over for us. We must go over ourselves
if we are ever to get there."

The men all laughed ; and one, Bill Smith,
said, " Why don't you tell us to swim over the
big pond ? We're nothing but slaves here, any-
way, and I'm sick of it. Having to obey a red
savage, an old heathen dog ! "

A third one, who really had the best face in
the crowd, replied, " I tell ye, lads, it's a bad
business, and that's true enough. But ye're not
bettering it by muttering about it. Manteo is
not a bad one, and ye forget he is not a heathen ;
was he not christened by Master Bradford? "

''That's all quite as you say; but it takes
more'n a few drops of water to make his ugly,
copper-colored skin clean, and a heap more to
make him a Christian, I'm thinking. I tell you,
Gray, you're easily taken in," Barnes said,
laughing. " I tell you what it is, lads," he con-
tinued, " if we're ever to go to England, we
must take the bull by the horns in the shape of
Manteo, and get rid of him. These red fellows
will not know what to do if he's gone, and we
can make 'em obey us. And we'll set 'em to
work at building a craft to carry us home."

As the men sat at work, their evil imag-ina-
tions and plans were making mischief faster

VIRGINIA DARE, 121

than their hands were making bowls. At the
same time, not a great distance off, Virginia sat
under the old willow-tree, working at the rude
spinning that Mistress Wilkins had taught her.
The day was beautiful, and she felt a strange
sense of joy even in living. The world all
about was so beautiful ; as she spun, she sang,
first one of the wild Indian songs, then an old
English hymn that she remembered, though im-
perfectly. She sang and worked, as the sun
played with her yellow hair and turned it into
gold.

Her thoughts went far across the water. That
great longing for her mother, then for her father,
crept into her heart. Her hands rested idly.
She must look out on the water. What if those
great canoes should be coming in sight even
now ! There seemed to be an odd stillness, as
if something were going to happen. She wan-
dered along a little wood-path to a hill, beyond
which she could see the clear water. There
was the great blue sea, sparkling and dancing in
the sunlight. Iosco had chanced to see the
slight figure climbing the hill ; he now stood
watching her as the breeze played with her
golden hair, and the clear blue sky formed a
background. He knew what she was looking

122 VIRGINIA DARE.

for, and he was pained. Could she never be
happy with his people in their simple lives?
How could he expect it ? But what was wrong ?
The color suddenly died out of Owaissa's
cheeks ; she clasped her hands as if in pain, and
sjDrang forward, out of his sight.

Hurrying up the hill, Iosco could see nothing
but Virginia's waving hair. She turned her
head, and even far away as he was, he could see
that her face was as white as the dove's down
in her mantle. Iosco caught only one glimpse
of it, then she was out of sight. He was an
Indian ; one sight was enough. He knew
Owaissa was in trouble, and bending his body
slightly, he went swiftly across the little knoll.
Surely it must be the canoes with the pinions,
that he so much dreaded. There was the sea,
clear and blue, no sight of anything good or bad
on it ; but a strange and awful sight was before
him, one which he never forgot.

There was Manteo's tall figure tied to a tree
like any mean captive. By him stood Barnes
and two or three of the roughest white men.
A little way off stood Gray and one or two
others, who seemed dissatisfied and distressed
at what was happening. In front, flushed with
anger and indignation, was Virginia. She was

VIRGINIA DAEE. 123

speaking, he could hear her, more like an eagle
defending her young, than a dove : " Shame on
you, Barnes ! Shame on you ! Shame on you
all, to touch the man who has saved our lives,
and cared for us all these years ! You are
worse than the savages you despise. We have
been safe, going in and out among them, and
you dare to harm their chief. I'm ashamed to
be one of you people ! "

It would have taken a good deal to shame
Barnes. He only muttered, *' You are nothing
better than a heathen savage yourself.'*

She turned fiercely towards him. Iosco could
see her eyes flashing as she replied, " You make
me ashamed of the white people who are left
here. As you say, I am no better than these
Indians, who are Christians indeed. They have
given us food and shelter all these years, and
what do we give them? No better? I wish I
were half as brave, half as noble, as some of
them are. You are not worthy to touch the old
man whom you have bound. One cry would
bring ten times your number of Manteo's men,
who would kill you all, should they see their
chief in danger." And she added, her eyes
gleaming with excitement, "I will give the cry,
if Manteo will not. And if one man is found
here he will be killed, as he deserves."

124 VIRGINIA DARE.

Barnes drew a knife from his belt as he came
towards her, saying, " If you dare open your
mouth, I will soon silence you. Try me ! "

A slight rustle, a swift movement, and Iosco
stood before Barnes, who shrank before the tall
figure, and every white man fled. Virginia
sprang to Manteo. With Iosco's knife she cut
the cords that bound him to the tree. She
kissed his hand where the cord had torn the
flesh. The old chief was moved by her gentle,
caressing care, and showed more feeling than
when he was threatened with death. She knelt
there by the old man, trying to show her love.
Iosco stood at a distance, with folded arms,
looking far away. He was thinking, surely this
would make Owaissa forget the canoes with
wings, when a sudden cry made him turn. It
was Virginia; she sprang up as if to shield
Manteo, who tottered a moment, then fell heav-
ily to the ground.

"An arrow, Iosco, an arrow!" she cried, as
she knelt by the prostrate form. Iosco bent
down, his expression unchanged, save for a
strange look in his dark eyes. He heard his
father heave a deep sigh, then all was still.

Manteo was dead. The arrow had pierced
his heart; but where had it come from? Iosco

VIRGINIA DARE. 125

sprang up, the savage thirst for vengeance
throbbing through his veins. With his hand
on his tomahawk, one moment he stood looking
down on his dead father, by whom Virginia
knelt, her face rigid with horror. Looking up,
she saw Iosco so changed she hardly knew him.
He was staring at her, though he did not see
her. She thought his anger and vengeance were
turned on her. The scene of horror had
changed her from a merry girl to a woman.
The voice in which she spoke was deep and
clear.

"Iosco," she said, "kill me if you will. I
would die a hundred times over if I could bring
back the life of the great and good Werowance
who saved us. God will reward him. I know
he will ; and he will punish us. Nothing you
can do to me will be hard or cruel. I will die
any death you choose."

Iosco turned quickly away. He had forgot-
ten Virginia until she spoke ; he was absorbed
in the dreadful thought of his father's death,
and the idea that he had been killed by men
whom he had not only saved, but had treated
with every kindness. His only comfort lay in
the thought of vengeance. But Virginia's
words brought back his better self. He could

126 VIRGINIA DARE.

not look at her, and turned away to hide his
grief. There came before him the memory of
Mrs. Dare sitting under the willow-tree, while
he, Virginia, and the other children listened to
her telling a story. He thought he could hear
her saying, "Those very men whom he came
to save, whom he loved and lived for, nailed
him to the tree, pierced his dear hands and
feet, and while they were doing it, they mocked
and spit at him, and called him vile names.
He was greater than any chief you ever saw or
heard of. But he did not get angry. He was
only so sad. Even in the moment of greatest
pain, he looked up to his Father, the Great
Spirit, and said, 'Forgive them, for they know
not what they do.' '*

Iosco felt he could have forgiven anything
done to himself. But was it right to think of
forgiving his father's murderers?

The answer seemed to come in Mrs. Dare's
words again : " The dear Jesus could have killed
every one of those men, and come down from
off the cross; but he would not, for he loved
us so much he was willing to bear all, to teach
us how we could forgive each other. He not
only forgave them, but asked his Father to for-
give them also J'

VIRGINIA DARE. 127

The breeze, the morning sunlight, the little
birds, and the dancing waves, all seemed to be
saying over and over to him, " The dear Jesus
could have killed every one of those men ; but
he loved us all so much he was willing to bear
all that to teach us how we could forgive each
other." Was it, then, such a great thing to be
able to forgive? He knew he could have every
one of those pale-faces killed ; every one would
expect it. He never for one moment included
Virginia when he thought of the white people.
To him she was a being all by herself. As he
turned, he saw her kneeling by the dead body,
her hands clasped, her face upturned. It was
white as marble. She must be speaking to the
Great Spirit. Those treacherous hands could
strike her from where they had struck his fa-
ther. For the first time Iosco saw they were in
danger, and he sent forth a great cry into the
forest, which he knew would bring his people.
Virginia knew what it meant. She rose and
stood waiting.

CHAPTER XL

CHAPTER XI.

"Tis sweet to stammer one letter
Of the Eternal language — on earth it is called Forgiveness."

Longfellow.

Oh, that dreadful day ! The howls and cries
of the men, women, and children, as they came
in reply to Iosco's call, and saw their chief, their
father, lying dead ! They also saw Virginia,
motionless, as if she had been carved out of
stone, standing over the dead. He had been
their faithful Werowance. They stood aghast,
unable even to fancy who could have done
the dreadful deed. The medicine-man said
solemnly : —

" The great Werowance rested under the ar-
bor of wild vines that shade the wigwam, and
as he lay on the mat in the heat of the mid-day
sun, a pale-face stood before the Werowance,
saying he had somewhat to speak, but must
speak it with naught but pale-faces to hear, for
it was a secret or charm of their tribe. Wero-
wance was true, and trusted him : he went into

131

132 VIRGINIA DARE.

the heat and sun, following the pale-face. No
man has seen him till now, when he clings to
the earth. Why came not the pale-faces at the
call of the Werowance ? "

A mighty shout rose from the people as they
moved around the body, and around Iosco, who
stood with folded arms and faced the scene.
Then the tumult ceased. The oldest of the
company came forward ; taking Iosco's hand,
he put it first to his head and then to his heart,
and so gave his oath of allegiance to the new
chief. The others did likewise, till all the men
had pledged themselves. Then they stood in
silence to hear what he would say.

Iosco was a true Indian : he would have
scorned to show deep feeling in his face or man-
ner. He said, very quietly and calmly, " Carry
my father to the wigwam."

They moved quickly to obey him. An old
Indian put Manteo's pipe in his hand that it
might be ready for him on his way to the Happy
Hunting Ground. A young brave who had
hated Virginia always, because as a child she
had shown a preference for Iosco, now seized
her arm to drag her away. But a strong voice
made him stop.

" Stay, take thy hands off ! " Then leaning

VIRGINIA DARE. 133

forward, Iosco said, " No Indian man shall
touch a whiteskin save a man of full size."

Virginia noted his strangely altered face.
Oh, he must be very, very angry, she thought !
Surely he would never speak to her again. But
he was coming towards her. He took her hand
and led her away.

The sun dipped low in the west, sending a
crimson glow through the forest ; the birds
chirped their good-nights to each other as they
swung on the branches of the great trees. Per-
fect peace seemed to rest on everj^thing. Iosco
stood on the bank of the lake ; on its smooth
surface the glory of the sky was clearly re-
flected. A slight noise made him turn. Vir-
ginia stood by him, her face upturned, her beau-
tiful eyes fixed on him wistfully.

" O Iosco I " she cried, coming nearer, " for-
give me for disturbing you ; but, dear Iosco, I
am so sorry, so very sorry for you, and so
ashamed of my people. I must tell you only
this once, that our people at home would thank
you if they could only know what you have
done. We deserve to be killed. If the big ca-
noes ever come over, full of white men like my
father and grandfather, who, I am sure, must
have been as good and brave as Manteo, — whom

134 VIRGINIA DARE.

they loved, you know, — if they ever come,
Iosco, tell them what he did for us, and please
ask them for my father, and show him where
my grave is, and my mother's also."

Her voice faltered, but she still stood looking
steadily at him ; there was nothing weak or sen-
timental about her ; she was a brave girl, and
meant what she said, every word of it. She
knew the wickedness of the deed which her peo-
ple had been guilty of, not only murdering with-
out cause, but murdering the one who had
sheltered and defended them. She took it for
granted that Iosco was very angry. She thought
it must make him feel enraged even to look at
her. But when he turned and looked into her
eyes, she saw no vengeance in his face. He took
her hand and pressed it to his lips and to his
heart. The color rose to her white cheeks, and
her eyes filled with tears, which rolled down
over her flushed face, and fell upon Iosco's
hand. She let him draw her closer, and as she
looked up she could not understand the expres-
sion in his dark eyes: it frightened her, yet
there was nothing angry or fierce, there was a
new, strange tenderness.

He said simply, " Owaissa, Owaissa ! " as they
stood there together. The sun sank out of sight

VIRGINIA DARE. 135

and the rosy glow was gone. The still water
of the lake showed only the reflection of the
moon, and the two figures, one tall and dark,
with rich mantle and wampum belt, the other,
fair and slender, with a robe of woven turkey
feathers lined with down from the breast of the
wood-dove. They stood close together under
the clear heavens, as they had often done ever
since they could remember ; but it was so differ-
ent. What made the strange difference, neither
quite knew. At last Virginia stole softly away.
The birds had gone to bed, and the moon was
high in the sky, sending down a soft silver light
over the great forest land. It looked at the
little lake with its smooth water on which the
two fiofures had been reflected at sunset. Now
it showed only one. He stood alone with folded
arms and bowed head. For a long time he had
stood there, even while the shadows cast by the
moon were lengthening. Then he walked quickly
up and down the bank. The tiny waves lapped
his moccasins, but he heeded them not. At last,
as if worn out with his solitary struggle, he
threw himself on the ground, and lay so still, he
looked more like a dead than a living form.
There alone, with only the screech of the owl in
the forest, or the call of the heron to break the

136 VIRGINIA DARE.

stillness, in the dim light of the moon, alone
with nature, Iosco was struggling with himself.
He seemed to be two beings ; one, the better self
which Mrs. Dare's teachings had awakened,
which saw and dimly realized the light and glory
of the living Saviour ; the other being, an Indian,
with all the passion and vengeance naturally
found in the descendant of a long line of fierce
and warlike chiefs, whose creed was, two eyes
for one eye, and always revenge, though it be
waited for a long time, even from generation to
generation. This being seemed to urge relent-
lessly : " They have slain your father ; make
them pay for every drop of his blood with a
scalp ! " The better self said over and over
again, " He loved us all so much, he was willing
to bear all tliis to teach us how to forgive each
other. The dear Lord could have killed every
one of those bad men." The first voice, almost
in reply, seemed to say, " If you get rid of all
the other pale-faces, you can keep Owaissa al-
ways. You can easily conceal one, while a
number would be discovered if the great canoes
should come looking for them. If you do not
have these men killed, your braves will do it.
It is not safe for them here. Even as a tiger
steals her prey they will be seized." And yet,

VIRGINIA DARE. 137

in the darkness two great blue eyes seemed to
look wistfully at him. He could hear the dear
girl's voice, sweet and soft as the voice of a bird,
saying, " God must be very angry with us. I
know he will punish us, and he will reward
Manteo." Was God really going to punish and
judge ? he wondered. The voice of the better
self seemed to be saying, "If you could not
keep them here, you could perhaps send them
away somewhere else." Ah, yes ! there was the
great Werowance Powhatan, in whose friendship
and esteem his father had stood very high. He
might be glad to have some more workers in his
tribe. These white people had introduced many
things among his people, Iosco knew ; a wonder-
ful manner of spinning, and various other things.
The captives, for such they now were, must be
out of the way before morning, and no one must
know where they had gone. How could he get
them off unseen ?

He rose. The struggle was over : the better
self had conquered ; but the fight had been a hard
one. As he walked through the forest he mused.
Should he tell Owaissa, or let her discover that
they were gone in the morning? He never
thought of including her in the party that were
to go ; and yet, why not ? If it were unsafe for

138 VIRGINIA DARE.

the other whites, might it not be unsafe for her?
Would she not want to go with her people ? She
belonged to them.

He passed through the little village ; all were
sleeping ; even the night itself seemed awed by
the dreadful deed of the day. There lay the
great Werowance Manteo. On the ground by
the bier Virginia had thrown herself.

As he looked at her, she stirred, sighed, and
muttered something. He caught his own name,
the rest was indistinct.

" The Owaissa is like unto the angels she used
to say were guarding our Werowance ! " It was
Ranteo's voice. He was on watch, fortunately
for Iosco's plan.

" Ranteo knew my father when he was made a
Christian ; Mrs. Dare has told me about it. When
the white man put the water on the Werowance's
head, Ranteo was by his side. It was in the
moon before the great canoes went over the
water with all the white hearts, who left the
pale-faces with black hearts behind," Iosco said.

" To kill us," the old Indian muttered.

Iosco continued, " Christians forgive those
who do them harm, so I am going to do what a
Christian would ; I am going to let all the pale-
faces go away, and not harm them. The son of

VIRGINIA DARE. 139

Manteo the Christian will be Christian too.
Will Ranteo help him ? "

Ranteo looked more surprised than if the skies
had fallen. Then he walked over, and stood
looking at Virginia for some time ; coming back
he said, " In that dark night long ago, when the
child crouched on the rock to save Ranteo, as a
dove might try to save an eagle, the pale lady-
spoke, and Ranteo promised to be the friend to
her child," he said, pointing to Virginia, " and
he will keep that promise now."

"Thinks Ranteo that Owaissa must go too?"
Iosco asked. The old man shook his head. "It
is not safe for a dove to be with hungry foxes.
The white dove must go," he said.

An hour later a little group stood on the bank
of the James River, known then as the Powhatan
flu, on which they were to fly to safety. Iosco
was to go with them till daybreak, when he
was to return, and send Ranteo to guide them
the rest of the way to Powhatan, on the Youg-
hianund flu. They were to conceal themselves
during the day. The moon was far on its way,
but it smiled on them as they glided swiftly over
the smooth water.

CHAPTER XII.

CHAPTER XII.

" I bold him great who for love's sake
Can give with earnest, generous will;
But he who takes for love's sweet sake,
I think I hold more generous still."

Proctor.

News came from Ranteo, just as Iosco was
starting on his return to Croatoan, that the
whole tribe had risen up against him for help-
ing his father's murderers to escape, and they
would not have him for their chief. This was
the doing of the medicine-men, who had lost
much of their former power since Manteo's visit
to England, for he had given up many of the
old superstitions. Ranteo strongly urged Iosco
to go on to Powhatan, and if he were received
kindly, to stay there for a while ; if his people
needed him, Ranteo would let him know. He
felt certain they would soon want him, for Men-
inosia, Manteo's brother, who was now to be
chief, was hard and cruel. So it came about
that Iosco reached the camp of the great Pow-
hatan on the Youghianund flu at Werowocomoca,
in company with the miserable remnant of the

143

144 VIRGINIA DARE.

English Roanoke Colony. It was at dusk when
he made known who he was, and they were ad-
mitted into the camp, and told that the great
Werowance would see the son of the brave war-
rior, Manteo, when the sun next stood over the
tall pine-tree. The next day was rainy, so the
medicine-men said the sun was not there, as they
could not see it, and Iosco was obliged to wait
till the following day, when the sun came out
bright and clear, and the whole world seemed
shining with unusual lustre. The fugitives
would know their fate soon. At noon Iosco
would be summoned to the great Werowance.

The sun had just come above the horizon as
Virginia stepped out of the wigwam, the birds
were singing their morning hymn, the little
squirrels were scampering to and fro getting
food for their young ; a few of the women were
beginning to work at skins, others were prepar-
ing food. They looked curiously at Virginia as
she passed them, but did not speak, for she
looked sad, and they were sorry for her. She
must be the wife of the young chief, they thought.
But where did he find a squaw with eyes like
the sky, and hair like the sun ? She passed un-
der the shadow of the great pines alone. All
the world seemed to be in families, or at least to

VIRGINIA DARE. 145

belong to some one, while she was all alone. She
had never known a relation but her mother.
Oh, for that mother ! why could she not have
gone with her ?

Virginia had lived long enough among the In-
dians to learn to restrain any display of feeling.
And yet the thought of her mother in that sad,
lonely hour was too much. She did not cry out,
or even sob,' as another English girl would have
done. She only sank down at the foot of the
great pine, covering her face. A little moan of
"mother," seemed to shake her whole frame.
Then she lay there so motionless that the little
birds flew about her and never noticed her.
Hundreds of miles across the water her thoughts
travelled to her father. What could he be like,
and where must he be ? Would he ever come
for his poor child ? Oh, how she longed for him,
that father whom she had never seen ! Must
she die alone here? And if she should die,
would she go to her mother? She hardly knew
the great God to whom her mother had gone.
Would he know her ? Or was it really as Mis-
tress Wilkins had said, that he would not listen
to the prayers of his children in a heatlien land ?
Did it not really belong to him ? Then she fan-
cied slie was sitting on her mother's lap, and

146 VIRGINIA DARE.

listening to the wonderful story of the creation,
and her mother saying, " After sin had come,
God's sorrow was so great that he promised to
send a Redeemer, which would be his own dear
Son, and he would come to save us all." If he
was, then, such a loving Father, he could not for-
get one of his children, and if he made the whole
world, it must all belong to him. All these peo-
ple must belong to him too, and they did not
even know him. Perhaps she had been sent to
teach them. Why hadn't her mother been spared
a little longer to teach her ? Oh, for some one
to tell her over again what she had heard from
her mother when she was too young to remember
or understand it !

An earnest prayer for guidance rose to her
lips. There were no special words, only the
cry of the child to the Father whom she felt was
listening. She had clasped her hands, and was
looking up so earnestly that she did not see the
bushes drawn aside and a young Indian maid, a
mere child of nine or ten, step out and then
draw back and look at her curiously. Hearing
a sound among the leaves, Virginia turned, and
saw the child also looking up to see what was
there to gaze at so earnestly.

She was a strangely beautiful little figure as

VIRGINIA BARE. 147

she stood there, one foot raised as if to step for-
ward, but resting still on the root of a great
tree that rose some distance out of the ground.
She wore a robe or mantle of fur, for it was only-
May, and the Indians are never in a hurry to
change their few articles of clothing ; besides, it
had been the gift of her brother, whom she had
loved dearly. The mantle was loosely girded,
and fell low on her shoulders, over which masses
of dark hair fell in dusky profusion. Her dark
eyes were full of wonder at seeing Virginia, and
at her strange position. Both looked at each
other for a moment, wondering who the other
could be. Then the Indian child sprang forward
like a young deer, and threw herself on the
ground by Virginia, and looked tenderly in her
face, her great eyes full of pity, as she held out
a garland of red flowers which she had been
holding.

Virginia took it with a smile ; but the child
snatched it back, and bound it about Virginia's
head. Then she drew back, pointed to the wavy
golden hair and blue eyes with a strange look
of awe, and clasped her hands, and bowed very
low. Virginia caught one of the brown hands.
She said laughingly, "I am not a goddess or
a spirit, I am only a girl. Who are you ? "

148 VIRGINIA DARE.

The child did not now draw her hand away.
She said in a pretty way, putting her head on
one side, "It is Cleopatra, the daughter of
Werowance Powhatan, the sister of Nantiquas,
the bravest, strongest Indian who ever shot an
arrow." As she spoke, a bird-call sounded
through the forest. She answered it almost ex-
actly. There was a crackling and breaking
among the bushes, and a young warrior stood
before them.

"Does not the fairest little maid go to the
Great Father, when all are gathered to see the
mighty wonder which is like a linnet with a
finch's bill, the captive from Croatoan, with eyes
from the sky and" — But seeing Virginia,
he stopped.

The sunlight peeping through the trees fell
on Virginia's hair till it shone like gold. They
stood looking at each other for several moments.
Then the Indian maid took Virginia's hand and
pressed it to her breast. Nantiquas at once did
likewise, and then said, "The one with eyes
from the sky belongs to the Spirit. Means it
evil or good to the camp of the mighty Pow-
hatan? He is a brave Werowance." And he
took his sister's hand as she stood beside him.

" I do not belong to any spirit," Virginia said,

VIRGINIA DARE. 149

smiling ; "I came with the white people whom
Iosco, the son of Manteo, is seeking shelter for,
and my forest name is Owaissa."

" Owaissa looks more like her namesake than
like the white tribe whom the great Werowance
is now to hear of," replied Nantiquas.

" Is the sun at the top of the tall pine ? Oh,
I must go to Iosco ; where is he, can you tell
me?" Virginia asked, almost passing them in
her eagerness.

"Nantiquas will take the Owaissa maid to
the wigwam of the Werowance Po^vhatan ; the
brave Iosco sits before the door." As he spoke,
he turned and led the way, and the maidens fol-
lowed him. Virginia could not help noticing
how tall and handsome he was, his long black
hair pushed back from his high forehead. He
wore a skin girded about his waist with a belt
of wampum. Over his shoulder hung a quiver
of arrows, and on his left arm he carried a bow.
In his belt he wore a tomahawk, and across his
forehead was bound the skin of a green serpent,
its bright eyes gleaming over his left temple.
From his right ear to his waist was fastened a
long string of pearls.

A strange sight was the wigwam or bower in
which Powhatan held his court. He sat on a

150 VIRGINIA DARE,

couch, which looked not unlike one of our
modern bedsteads. It was made of fine wood,
rudely carved with strange devices. He wore
a robe of raccoon-skin, with a belt of the rarest
wampum. His powerful arms were decorated
with metal bracelets. The ground around him
was strewn with dried sweet grasses and crushed
pine-needles that made the air fragrant. At his
head and feet sat two beautiful maidens. A
hundred bowmen formed, as it were, the wall
or outside of the court-chamber. In front of
them were a hundred women with bare necks
and arms, which were dyed with paccoon and
decorated with white coral. Beside the great
Werowance sat a beautiful girl about twelve or
fourteen. She looked like Cleopatra, and was,
in fact, her sister Pocahontas, known to her
"people as Mataoka.A She gazed wonderingly at
Virginia as Nantiquas and Cleopatra led her in,
and she took her place among the wives and
daughters that sat at the head of Powhatan's
couch, on the right side of which, on mats, were
seated the priests, or medicine-men, singing a
queer dirge, keeping time to the melody with
their grotesquely painted bodies. The curious
song continued while Iosco entered. He was in
the dress of a prince, wearing a white skin

VIRGINIA DARE, 151

girded with his father's rare and beautiful wam-
pum belt, in which was supposed to rest a great
charm. On his feet he wore moccasins made of
skins and beautifully wrought with queer pat-
terns. Across his forehead were bound some
rare and beautiful feathers, which rose high
above his tall figure and nodded gracefully as
he moved. He was attended only by one of his
braves and three of the whites, who were dressed
as Indians, and carried the presents he had
brought from Croatoan, which they had now
laid before him. An odd medley enough they
were — a coil of deer sinews, a small belt of
wampum, a string of noughmass, and last, but
not least in the eyes of the chief, an old rusty
English sword.

The chief did not deign to notice the things
till the sword was put down, then he extended
his great hand, and picked it up with a gleam of
delight in his small, dark eyes as he held it. He
took from his mouth his long pipe, passed it to
Iosco, who smoked for some moments in silence.
Then Powhatan nodded to Iosco, whp returned
the pipe and began his tale, not as if he were
making a petition, but as if he were chanting
or reciting a story. He told first of Manteo's
going to England, then of the white men com-

152 VIRGINIA DARE.

ing to Croatoan; of the years that had passed
since, when they had lived in peace together ;
then of his father's death, and the anger of his
people, and his wish to remain or leave the two
dozen pale-faces that were yet alive at Wero-
wocomoca. He spoke of their skill in many
things not known to the Indian people.

He told it in a sing-song drawl, as if he did
not care in the least. But when the medicine-
men began to mutter, " They are ghosts ; have
none of them ; they kill," Powhatan looked at
the tliree white attendants, who certainly were
weird looking, with their yellow, grisly faces,
their colorless eyes, and white skins, and shook
his head unfavorably.

Iosco looked anxiously over at Virginia. It
was evident she was his chief anxiety; but
she, mistaking his look, thought he wanted her,
and sprang to him, saying, "Must we go, and
where?"

Powhatan half raised himself to look at her,
as she clung to the tall figure, fixing upon him
her great blue eyes, her wavy golden hair falling
loosely about her. Even the medicine-men
stopped their muttering, and the beautiful prin-
cess Mataoka bent over her father and whispered
something in his ear. He could not but admire

VIRGINIA DARE. 153

her beauty, old savage as he was, and he nodded
to his daughter, who led Virginia away to her
own wigwam. Then he ordered food to be
brought to Iosco, which was his way of showing
his welcome. And Iosco knew that he and his
party were safe for the present.

CHAPTER XIII.

/

!■»

CHAPTER XIIL

" She was lost in a country new and strange,
With lakes and with mountains high,
With forests wide, where the redmen range,
And shores where the sea-hirds fly."

Fair and lovely was that sunny Virginia
country. No wonder the ships went back to
England with fairy tales. No wonder that,
in spite of mishaps and disasters, there were
always more of the quiet English folk ready
to sail for the new world of romance and beauty.

The early spring melted into summer; the
trees were festooned with wild vines ; the forest
was alive with flowers and birds. It was an
ideal day in June, and the whole world seemed
glad and happy. Virginia and the lovely prin-
cesses, Mataoka and Cleopatra, had gathered
their arms full of flowers and berries. Virginia
was twining them into garlands, as they sat by
a little stream down which a canoe was gliding
swiftly. It stopped near them, and Nantiquas,
who was paddling, drew it upon the bank and

157

158 VIRGINIA DARE.

sat down near Virginia, listening to her merry
chatter with his sisters, till they sprang up to
run after a butterfly.

He had been silent. Then he spoke eagerly,
"Owaissa cannot tell what Nantiquas saw when
he watched the big sea-water from the great
salt oak."

" What did you see, Nantiquas ? Please tell
me," Virginia asked, dropping her flowers with
a strangely anxious expression, which made Nan-
tiquas feel that she knew, or imagined, what he
had to tell her.

He replied quite indifferently, "As the
waves from Witch's reef came to Nantiquas,
there came with the waves a great canoe with
wings. So close to Nantiquas it came, that
the pale-faces shone as they put their irons in
the sea. Even as they went down from the big
canoe and dropped into a little one, the waves
brought another big canoe, as one bird finding a
carcass attracts many birds."

As he finished speaking, the color rose to
Virginia's cheeks, then died away, leaving them
deadly pale. Her hands were clasped. One
moment she raised her eyes, her lips moved.
Then she turned to the young Indian with a
look that he never forgot, and said, " Nantiquas,

VIRGINIA DARE. 159

in one of those must be my father ; may I go
and see them?"

"Owaissa could never walk so far. Nanti-
quas would take her, but the canoe is too
small."

Nantiquas felt sure if her father were among
the pale-faces he had seen, he would surely
come and take her away, and this thought was
not pleasant to him. So he did not mean to
help her. But a feeling of jealousy rose in his
heart when Virginia said, " Iosco will help me,
I must go and find him, and tell him ; I know he
will be glad."

As she sprang up to go away, Nantiquas
caught her hand. "Will Owaissa let Nantiquas
go for her to the camp of the pale tribe and find
her father?"

" Oh, how good you are ! " she cried, her
cheeks glowing, and her eyes sparkling. " But
the white men will never know what you want.
You cannot talk their language, and they may
think you mean them harm." Such a sad, dis-
appointed look came into her face that Nan-
tiquas, seeing it, would have risked death a
hundred times for her.

He drew himself up proudly, as he answered,
" The son of Powhatan is not a fawn. He will

160 VIRGINIA DARE.

go. Owaissa will tell him the words, and he
shall say them to the white chief in the chief's
own tongue."

" Do you think you could? " she said, looking
up wistfully into his face. " Could you say
' White ' ? "

He repeated it after her, " White."

" That is it ! " she cried, catching his hand in
her delight. " That was my grandfather's name.
He was a great man, a chief I think. Now, my
father's name was Dare, and something else that
was long and hard to say. But Dare will do ;
can you say it?"

"Dare," repeated Nantiquas, still holding the
little hand that had been put in his.

"Now, Nantiquas," she continued, "my real
name, the one they would know me by, is not
Owaissa. Iosco gave me that name when I was
a little girl, because my eyes made him think of
the Owaissa. It is my forest name, mamma used
to say. But my name with my own people is
Virginia ; after the land I was born in, mamma
used to say ; but I don't understand how that
can be, for I was born on the island of Roanoke.
I was too young to think about it, or ask
mamma how it was, before she went away. It
is a hard word — Virginia, but do you think
you can say it, Nantiquas ? "

VIRGINIA DARE. 161

Indians have a superstition that any one
knowing the secret of the private name of a
maid can work charms and witchery about her.
So to Nantiquas it was a solemn, if not a sacred
thing to repeat the word Virginia. But he did
it quite correctly, and she clasped her hands with
joy. " Say it all over once more, please," she
urged. And he repeated clearly, " White, Dare,
Virginia; does Nantiquas say it as Owaissa
does?"

" Oh, yes," she said enthusiastically. " When
will you go, Nantiquas ? "

" Nantiquas will go even as the canoe waits
by the water. Does Owaissa wish it ? "

"Oh, will you? And come back quickly
with my father, won't you ? I won't tell Iosco
anything about it, and we'll surprise him when
you come."

Nantiquas pushed the canoe out from among
the willows, and stepped in. As Virginia stood
watching him, more like a beautiful spirit than
ever, he thought, he saw her take up a sharp
shell that she had used to cut the flowers that
were too stout to break, and drawing her curls
over her face, she cut one off with the shell and
handed it to him, saying, "If you should for-
get the words, Nantiquas, or my father could not

162 VIRGINIA BABE.

understand, or they would not believe you, you
can show them this. They will know it did not
come from an Indian maid, and they will be
willing to come back with you, I know."

He took the silky yellow curl almost rever-
ently. Catching her hand that had held the
curl, he pressed it to his heart, then paddled
down the stream into the Youghianund flu, and
was soon out of sight. Nantiquas was not the
only one who had seen the ships.

As Virginia went through the forest singing,
her heart was very light and happy. She soon
met Cleopatra and Mataoka, who put their arms
about her. Cleopatra said softly, "Does Owa-
issa know that a great canoe is in the flu full of
white men, and another one on the water of the
Che-sa-peack ? "

" Yes, dear Cleopatra, I know it, and it must
be my father has come for me at last. I can
hardly wait for him to come. But he will be
here soon, I know."

"Owaissa will not go and leave us, oh, no,
no ! Owaissa will never leave us," and Cleopa-
tra threw her arms about Virginia, and laid her
head on her breast, her beautiful eyes full of
love.
• Virginia kissed her brown cheek as she an-

VIRGINIA DARE. 163

swered, "If the great Werowance Powhatan
should come for his pretty little Cleopatra,
would she not go with him? She would go,
but she would not forget her friends that she
had left behind, or cease to love them just the
same, and send them presents to show her love.
What will my dear little Cleopatra have from
sunny England?"

But the little Indian girl only clung closer,
saying, " Cleopatra wants only Owaissa, and no
present. Her love is in Owaissa's bosom, not
in toys."

The whole camp was in a state of excitement
over the strange news of the ships in the river.
It was twenty years since Governor White had
left Roanoke, and no Englishman had come
since their sad fate. When the Governor re-
turned to look for his colony, his ships had been
in sight a few days from Powhatan's shores.
But these present intruders, as many of the
Indians called the pale-faces, evidently intended
staying, for upon landing they began prepara-
tions at once for a camp, so the report ran.

Virginia listened in breathless silence to an
olii Indian who was telling all he had seen of
the arrival of the English fleet; for it was, in
fact, the colony which had embarked in their

1G4 VIRGINIA DARE.

ships on the 19th of December, 1606, from
Blackwall, near London, and had been for more
than five months on their voyage, commanded
by Captain Newport.

The old Indian sat smoking on his mat, rest-
ing after his long hunt, and hasty return to tell
the news, which he was now doing for the third
or fourth time, to the crowd of excited listeners.
The men sat or stood, smoking, the women
worked the skins on the ground, while one or
two ground mondawmin, or Indian corn, in
basins made of hollowed stones. These worked
at a little distance, lest their noise might dis-
turb their lords and masters, and were content
with what fragments they could gather of the
story that was being told.

" The eyes of Ramapo see far on the great sea-
water, white wings as of a mighty sea bird.
The wings come near, and he sees the pale-faces'
canoe. Ramapo goes into the great tree; he
sees the white man come to the land. He sees
the canoes without wings pulled up. He sees,
after the sun passes a bit, the pale-faces all
stand under the trees, and one, the medicine-
man, talks out of a book. They all kneel, then
stand, some do look at the clouds, and some do
hide their faces, that even the sun may not see

VIRGINIA DARE. 165

them. Ramapo says, they talk to the Spirit
that is in the clouds; and then he comes
away "

"They were talking to God, Ramapo," cried
Virginia, her great eyes full of tears, " the Spirit
that lives in heaven, but loves and watches
over us. It is he that has brought them to
find me; I know it is. My father must be one
of them. Did you see a man that looked like
me, Ramapo?"

"Ramapo was too far to see the eyes, but
surely he saw none with such hair, though
many of the pale-faces seem ashamed of their
skin, and wear much hair on their chin and
cheeks to cover up the whiteness," was the old
Indian's reply.

In their excitement they had not noticed
the gathering clouds till the rumbling thunder
made them see the storm which was just break-
ing over them. The awful stillness that often
comes before a tempest seemed suddenly to en-
fold the forest. Not even a leaf rustled. The
stillness could be felt but not described, and
this little group of wild people, always in sym-
pathy with the moods of the forest, stood as if
listening, when suddenly the chanting or crying
of the medicine-men was heard, and in the still-

166 VIRGINIA DARE.

ness the strange weird noise sounded clearly
and distinctly. "The pale man, the murder
man, he will kill, but the mighty Powhatan
will lay him low. Away with the white faces
out of the land, out of Powhatan's hunting-
grounds, out of his sight, out of his sight ! As
the rabbit and the deer shall we hunt them,
their hair shall we scalp."

Six of Powhatan's best bowmen came quickly
forward, and without a word seized one of the
lads who had come from Croatoan with Iosco
and the other whites. Tliey came to Virginia,
and took her by the arm to lead her away, but
Cleopatra sprang up suddenly and forced herself
between them, and as she threw her arms around
Virginia she cried, " Go away! who said to touch
Owaissa? Nantiquas shall punish who comes
near her."

One of the men replied, "Werowance Pow-
hatan says, 'Bind every pale-face, and bring
each one for the evil of him they call Barnes.' "

"I am not afraid to go to your father, the
Werowance Powhatan," Virginia said calmly.
"I will go with you," They led her away, and
she found herself before the great chief with
Beth, Patience, Gray, and Barnes, and all the
other whites who had come from Croatoan.

VIRGINIA DARE. 167

Barnes stood tightly bound, while in front of
him lay the body of an Indian whom he had
killed. They had disagreed about something ;
and Barnes, having just heard about the ships
from England, felt he was soon to be released,
and ceased to be cautious. In a passion he had
knocked the Indian down. As he fell, his head
hit a stone, and he died immediately. Barnes
had been at once dragged before the chief.

The storm broke in its fury. The prisoners
had been taken to wigwams where they were
well guarded. Death had been the sentence for
all alike, on the morrow at break of day. Vir-
ginia was kneeling, Cleopatra clinging closely
to her, wishing for Nantiquas, whom she felt
sure could help them. The wind shrieked and
roared outside, and the thunder rolled. Where
was Iosco? Why did he not come?

CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XIV.

" Every hmnan heart is hnman,
That in even savage bosom
There are longings, yearnings, strivings,
For the good they comprehend not,
That the feeble hands and helpless,
Groping blindly in the darkness,
Touch God's right hand in that darkness.
And are lifted up and strengthened."

Longfellow.

Where was Iosco ? He had followed Owaissa
in the afternoon, to tell her the news of the
English ships. He went through the forest
trail that led to the little stream just in time
to see her, Owaissa, holding Nantiquas's hand,
and looking eagerly into his face. All the
passion of his Indian nature was roused into a
hatred and jealousy of Nantiquas. He turned
quickly away, before he had been noticed, and
walked far into the woods. Was it for this that
he had given up his people, his home, his inher-
itance ? For a people who cared nothing for
him. Strangely enough he found his love for
the pale-faces was really founded on his love

ni

172 VIRGINIA DARE.

for one member of the race. He had never
dared to hope that Owaissa would love him ;
she was a being too beautiful, too pure, for man
to woo. Though he would never have thought
of asking her to be his wife, he could not see
any one else win her love. He felt that he had
the first right to her. Had not he been like a
brother to her, always? And he knew well
that Owaissa had treated him always as a brother.
He could kill Nantiquas, and then he would see.
But Powhatan would no longer give them shel-
ter. What did that matter ? He would have
vengeance. Iosco had thrown himself on the
ground, and as he lay there, the great stillness
and peace of the forest crept into his heart, and
he seemed to hear Mrs. Dare's voice saying,
" The dear Jesus would rather suffer all than
save himself from one pain, that he might
teach us the great lesson of forgiveness." " The
dear Jesus," the very words brought with them
a certain peace and rest. Forgive ! Could he
forgive Nantiquas for taking from him what he
cared most for ? And yet that holy Jesus for-
gave. A crash of thunder seemed to shake the
whole forest, and the darkness crept around him,
like the darkness which clouded his soul that
was groping for light. Could he still live for

VIRGINIA DARE. 173

love ? For life could not be without love.
Could he live for the love of that great chief,
that holy Jesus ? Did he want his love ? How
could he give his service, his life if need be ?
Oh, for some one to teach him as Mrs. Dare had
done when he was a little child !

The storm beat fiercely against him as he rose
and forced his way through the tangle of the
forest. But a peace he could not describe had
crept into his heart. He must be near Owaissa.
To-morrow that white father might come and
carry her away. He loved her, and would be
near her while he might. He was tramping on,
crushing everything before him like the strong
man Kwasina, when a voice called to him
softly. He listened. It said, " Nantiquas, is
it you ? "

He knew the voice. It was Cleopatra's, and
it sounded full of trouble. " Is Cleopatra in
sorrow ? " he asked, going in the direction of
the sound.

" O Nantiquas," she said, not recognizing the
voice, " O Nantiquas, Owaissa is in great trouble.
She is to die when the day comes, with all the
pale-faces ; for Barnes, the red white man, did
take the life of Nanogh, and our father says all
the whites shall die."

174 VIRGINIA BABE.

She knew it was not Nantiqnas's hand that
clasped hers, and she drew back half afraid, till
she heard Iosco's familiar voice.

" Owaissa is in trouble, to die ! The great
Werowance Powhatan would never take her
life, even now as the white man is coming."

Then Cleopatra told Iosco the whole story ;
how, while Ramapo was telling what he had
seen of the white men, the medicine-men's chant
came to them ; of the dreadful sentence, and
how she had only now left Owaissa to watch for
Nantiquas, who had gone away in his canoe in
the afternoon, and had not come back. " If he
would only come back," she said, " I am sure he
could do something."

Iosco said, " Cleopatra must stay no longer,
lest her sad tears and the rain be too much, and
she die. Could she not speak to the great
Werowance, and ask the life of Owaissa ? He
must grant what his sweet daughter wishes."
Cleopatra stood up, and Iosco led her. But she
said sadly, " The great Powhatan is very angry.
He would never spare a captive for a child's
wish, Iosco."

Suddenly Iosco loosened and drew off his
large, rich wampum belt. "Will Cleopatra
take this with her petition ? It is the charmed

VIRGINIA DARE. 175

belt of Manteo, my father. I prize it, but know
the mighty Powhatan's eye often rests on it.
He will grant the prayer of Cleopatra, if she
carries the charmed belt of the far-journeyed
Werowance Manteo."

She took the wampum from Iosco, and having
reached her wigwam they parted, she to sleep
on her tussan of stretched skins, and Iosco to
find the wigwam where Owaissa slept. He
would lie, but not sleep, on the wet ground
outside.

The morning dawned, dull and rainy. The
loving Cleopatra held the wampum belt and
watched for her father to eat his food. Virginia,
too, had wakened early. She thought herself
deserted by Iosco, and to her surprise that
thought brought more pain than the thought of
her probable death, which would undoubtedly
be a torturing, painful one. She little knew
that Iosco had been watching by her all the night,
and was even now looking sadly at her through
the openings in the logs, of which the wigwam
was made. He marvelled how she could kneel
so calmly, her sad face more beautiful than any-
thing he had ever seen. If Cleopatra were not
successful, she would soon be led to death.
He would die first, before she should suffer.

176 VIRGINIA DARE.

But she should not be disturbed by him in these
solemn hours.

A joyous cry made Virginia look up ; Iosco,
too, from his post could see the lithe figure of
Cleopatra as she bounded into the wigwam and
threw her arms about Virginia, crying, " The
beautiful Owaissa shall not die this day ! The
good Powhatan says that she shall fly all day
and make his little daughter merry ; she shall
be merry at his great feast to-day, and before
night comes Nantiquas will come. He will save
the sweet Owaissa." *

Viginia rose, still holding the little girl in her
arms, and said, " I will try to make my dear
Cleopatra happy to-day, even if it be my last
one she shall be merry. If Nantiquas does not
come, and if he has not the power you think
he has, when does Werowance say I shall
die?"

Cleopatra covered her face with her brown
hands to hide her tears, but she could not keep
back the sobs, as she replied, " Cleopatra's fa-
ther, the Werowance Powhatan, says the pretty
Owaissa shall fly to-day with his child, and
not die until the sun goes down and the moon
comes out and the sun shines again, but when
it hangs on the great pine, the Owaissa and six

VIRGINIA DARE. 177

of her tribe, who shall live till then, shall die
before Powhatan."

Iosco could see Owaissa comforting the child.
He heard her say, " There are other things
more cruel than death, Cleopatra, when one's
heart dies. But we will love each other to the
end, whenever it may be."

He saw her kiss the child, who clung to her,
and heard her say, " We will remember that God
knows our trouble. If he will that I should
live, he can save me even from a great Wero-
wance like Powhatan. And if not, he will help
me to be brave."

Iosco stood quietly with unmoved face, show-
ing nothing of the struggle and pain in his
heart.

That day there was a dreadful massacre of
nearly all the whites. They were slain before
Powhatan and his courtiers. As they were led
out, Beth Harvey caught Virginia's arm as she
passed the wigwam where Virginia stood, try-
ing to say something encouraging to each one
as they passed. " Come, oh, come with me,
Virginia ! " she cried, " stay with me to the
end." It was the old childhood name, and poor
Beth's face was so full of agony that Virginia
could not have refused her anything, so she

178 VIRGINIA DARE.

took her hand and went with her, and stayed
with her, and kept her courage up as she had
done all through her life. She stood bravely by
Beth, never flinching at the dreadful sights.
She did not know that Nantiquas and Iosco
stood looking at her with wonder and admira-
tion, as she held poor Beth's trembling hand,
and bent all her energy to keep the little spark
of courage bright.

" Dear Beth, you will be brave. It will only
be a moment of pain, and then you will be be-
yond all pain, with your mother and with mine.
But O Beth, you will know all that we have
longed to know about the dear Saviour who
died for us.

• • • • • • •

All was over. Beth no longer needed human
aid. A slight figure, with halo of golden curls,
tottered and fell. But before it touched the
earth, it was caught and carried away. Under
the great pine, Virginia lay motionless, while
two Indian princes bent over her, doing all in
their power to bring back a sign of life, and a
child knelt by, cr^dng.

Life came back ; the weary brain began slowly
to awake. The great blue eyes opened. She
tried to smile ; but that awful scene came be-

VIRGINIA DARE. 179

fore her, — Barnes, Gray, Smith, even Beth,
all that she had called her people, lying dead
about her. She closed her eyes ; but soon she
opened them again, and found that she was
lying on the low rush tussan in the wigwam.
Nantiquas was standing, looking down at her.
At first she thought he was her father, and
stretched her hand out to him ; he caught it, and
knelt down by her.

"Is it you, Nantiquas ?" she said. "I for-
got that you had come back."

He bent low over her as he said, " Nantiquas
is here : the Puk-weedjie hurried him back to
save the life of the sweet Owaissa."

"Save me from what? Oh, I forgot. But
how can you save me ? Will Powhatan listen
to you, Nantiquas ? "

She said it half dreamily, as if she didn't care.

Iosco had been lying close outside, and heard
her last words, and Nantiquas's reply, which
made him clinch his hands : —

"Powhatan will not hurt Nantiquas's wife.
To save Owaissa, she will be Nantiquas's wife,
and love him."

The voice was clear and decided, that
answered : —

" O Nantiquas, you are so good to want to

180 VIRGINIA DABE.

save me, but I could not be saved tbat way ; I
could never be your wife, Nantiquas. I would
do anything else in the world that I could for
you."

After a long silence, Nantiquas replied,
" Then Owaissa will sooner die than be the wife
of Nantiquas ? He cannot save her."

" No, Nantiquas," she said firmly and clearly;
" no ; I can never be your wife."

He said not a word, but passed out of the
wigwam into the twilight. Cleopatra tried to
coax Virginia to eat. Iosco lay concealed at
the back of the wigwam, and wondered why
Owaissa had refused Nantiquas, till the dark-
ness crept up and the moon rose, and the stars
came out to keep their mother moon company.
The hours slipped by, those last hours, as it
seemed, of Owaissa's life. Iosco asked himself
over and over again, should he go to her or not ?

CHAPTER XV.

,K

CHAPTER XV.

" No answer comes through the ceaseless whirl
Of the hurrying ages tossed,
And the New World's first little English girl
Is still a little girl lost."

E. H. Nason.

It was nearly the middle hour, when the
darkness is thickest, that a low voice said, at
the entrance of the wigwam, " Will Owaissa
come ? Be quick, and move like a young fawn,
without noise ! "

It was a very low call for Iosco to hear, but
it reached him. In a moment he stood before
the wigwam by Nantiquas, who only said, " We
shall carry Owaissa, and Iosco must go with
her. Will he go?"

The reply was prompt : —

" He will go anywhere that Owaissa will be
safe ; but where will that be ? "

" Ask nothing now. Can you carry her ? "

Iosco lifted Owaissa tenderly, as if she had
been a baby, and the three passed into the dark-
ness and silence of the forest night.

183

184 VIRGINIA DARE.

Nantiquas led them first behind the wigwam,
where there were bushes and undergrowth to
hide them. Then he turned into a trail un-
known to Iosco. On, on, they went. Not a
word was said. Owaissa felt that Iosco was
carrying her, and she cared for nothing else.
Iosco knew that he had his darling close to his
heart, and that she had refused life at the price
of being the wife of the bravest prince of the
mightiest tribe.

Suddenly Nantiquas stopped, and said : —

" Ramapo stands yonder by the fallen willow ;
he loves Owaissa, and will let her pass. Iosco
shall say he carries Owaissa to the great Wero-
wance Eyonols on the Chanock flu. Say that
she goes to hide at Ritanoe, in the mines of
Mattasin. We meet beyond."

Iosco went on as Nantiquas said, and met
Ramapo, who let him pass. But no sooner had
he done it than his loyal heart repented, and he
called to Iosco to return. But Iosco only ran
on the more quickly. He was wondering what
he should do to protect Owaissa, when he heard
Nantiquas say, " Turn under the lindens to the
right, quickly ! " And he turned just in time
to escape an arrow that Ramapo had sent after
him.

VIRGINIA DARE. 185

Nantiquas led on in a different direction.
The trail was very narrow and rough. Yet
Iosco wished they might go on all night, that
he might hold his prize so close.

After walking for several hours, Nantiquas
stopped suddenly, and turned, saying, "The
river lies just beyond. By it there is a camp,
which tears not being seen, for the fire burns.
The clever Powhatan has not had time to have
his fire burning as bright as a harvest sun,
since we started. If they are his men we shall
be taken. First, Nantiquas would speak to
Owaissa. He did journey to the pale-faces*
camp, and lie watching and listening, but no
word that Owaissa spoke came to his ears. He
did see one like a spirit, so white was his face.
He lays his hands together, and puts his knees
on the ground, looks up and speaks, and while
he does, Nantiquas -seizes and carries him off in
the woods. He has not the strength of a kid,
but his eyes are like those of a young deer, so
brown and soft. Nantiquas says to the pale-
face, ' Virginia.' He nods his head and laughs,
as if he knows what that is. Then Nantiquas
says, ' White,' and he puts his hands to his face
and laughs more. Nantiquas says, ' Dare,' and
he puts one hand on the other, and looks up as

186 VIRGINIA DARE.

if he would say he feared the Indian not. He
would understand no more. So Nantiquas
leaves him to go back to his camp. While Nanti-
quas listened to the white camp men, he heard
many speak to one, the chief. But they do not
say 'White,' they say 'New-port.' One other
is 'Smi-th,' and many more such. But none
with the words of Owaissa."

Owaissa stood by Nantiquas while he spoke.
She laid her hand on his arm as she said,
" Then they have forgotten me, my own people.
But you, Nantiquas, you have been so kind, so
very good to me. I shall always love you as I
would have loved my brother. I will pray for
you always."

"Is it the prayer that makes Owaissa so
brave ? " he asked very gently.

"Yes, Nantiquas," she replied. "It is the
Great Spirit who makes us able to meet death.
Some day you will know all about him. I am
sure you will."

Nantiquas took Virginia's little hand and
pressed it one moment. Then they stepped
forward cautiously toward the river and the
light. So softly did they move, they would
surely not have been heard or discovered but
for Virginia, who, as she came nearer the fire,

VIRGINIA DARE. 187

gave a great cry, and sprang forward. Two
figures were lying by the fire on the ground,
and one was a white man.

It was an English voice that replied to Vir-
ginia's cry, " Who comes this way ? "

Virginia had sprung from her two companions,
and was standing in the firelight before they
could stop her. She spoke in her own tongue.
They could not tell what she said, but they saw
the two figures, who seemed to be alone by the
camp fire, draw close to her.

" Ranteo ! " exclaimed Iosco. '' It is old Ran-
teo ! " and he went forward.

When the old Indian saw Iosco, he caught his
hand, ciying, " The people of Manteo do groan
for Iosco. They offer sacrifices every day for
his return. But he comes not. Old Ranteo
comes far to find him and fetch him back. The
brave Christian Werowance, Iosco ! "

It was Owaissa who answered, turning from
the stranger with whom she had been earnestly
talking, " Do they really want Iosco back at
Croatoan? I knew they would, some day. I
am so glad, dear Iosco."

Nantiquas and the stranger to whom Virginia
had been speaking looked at each other in sur-
prise for a moment, then they began talking by

188 VIRGINIA DARE.

signs. Nantiquas turned to the others, and
laughed as he said, '' The poor pale-face could
not get to his camp. He was but an arrow's
fling from it."

Ranteo laughed too, as he answered, " The
poor nemarough wandered like a lost deer back
and forth, and was full of fear. He would speak
with me, but he could not, and for the great
Werowance Manteo's love, who did good to all
such. Ranted gave the stranger half his fire and
half his food, and would bring him to Iosco."

Nantiquas interrupted, " The Owaissa is not
safe on Powhatan's land. The bo}^s and men
wait yonder. You must go on. You must go
to Croatoan. Is it not so, Iosco ? "

" But how about the Werowance at Ritanoe ?
Must we not go there, Nantiquas?" Virginia
asked.

Nantiquas laughed. " Owaissa would not have
come by this trail had she been journeying to
Ritanoe. Pov/ha tan's braves have that trail to-
night. Owaissa was on her way to her own
people, to the camp of the pale-faces, but it is
safer for her on the way to Croatoan. There
she can join her people without danger from
Powhatan."

A slight noise in the darkness startled them.

VIRGINIA BABE. 189

Iosco drew a deerskin over the fire and stepped
on it till the light was gone. Nantiquas led the
way, and they followed ; they had gone only a
short distance when they came to the men and
boys, all that was left of the Roanoke colony,
seven souls. Two small skiffs were waiting, a
moment more and all was ready.

Owaissa clasped Nantiquas's hand. " You have
been very good, dear Nantiquas. You will come
to us some day, won't you ? " Her voice fal-
tered, and she sobbed as she had not done in all
the scenes of pain or danger. " He has been so
good; he has saved us all," she said, turning to
the Englishman, who, raising his hand, gave his
blessing to the young Indian prince.

One more grasp of Owaissa's hand, then the
skiffs were moving down the Youghianund flu,
leaving Nantiquas alone on the shore. The first
rays of the sun glistened on the waving hair in
the boat, and on a little silky curl in the Indiau's
brown hand, as he caressed it tenderly. The
mists cleared away, and a faint gleam of color
tinged the sky like the reflection of a rainbow.
He saw it, and muttered to himself, as the skiffs
passed out of sight, " Nantiquas will never tell
your secret to the whites, Iosco, lest they carry
her off from you." And then looking towards

190 VIRGINIA DARE.

the bright bow of color, he added, " True, there
are many flowers do die on earth."

Powhatan had condemned all the whites to die
because he was afraid they might tell the se-
crets of his people to the white tribe who had
now settled near his own lands. If they knew
all, they would be dangerous enemies. So Nan-
tiquas had sent word to Iosco not to let any of
the whites attempt to go to Jamestown, for
there were spies watching for them all the way,
with orders to capture them. A reward was
offered for every white scalp from Croatoan
or Ritanoe, or wherever the seven whites had
escaped to.

The old places were slowly coming nearer
and nearer, and the great throb of happiness
that leaps into one's heart as he is coming home,
filled Virginia's heart with thankfulness and
love.

" O Iosco, I am so glad I did not go right to
my own people ; I would never have seen Croa-
toan again. I am sure there is not another
place in the whole world so beautiful. I love it,
every spot of its ground. Are you glad we are
all to be together again for a while ? "

" Iosco is glad, oh, yes, very glad. Did Owa-
issa's father come in the big canoes ? What tid-

VIRGINIA DARE. 191

ings brings the white man of her people ? " he
asked very earnestly.

Virginia was standing in the end of the skiff,
that she might catch the first glimpse of the
dear familiar place. She put her hand on Iosco's
shoulder to steady herself, and looking sadly
down into his dark eyes, she said, " O Iosco,
do you know I have almost forgotten my peo-
ple's language : many things the white man ssljs
to me I cannot understand. But this I do know;
he says my grandfather and my father came
with the big canoes to find us, long, long ago,
and they found only the empty place at Roa-
noke and the word ' Croatoan ; ' but when they
would find Croatoan, the storm caught up their
canoes and carried them away. Even now this
Chief Newport is speaking for us, and will be
glad when he knows what you have done, and
will give you many things."

" Will the pale-face take Owaissa to her peo-
ple soon ? " Iosco asked.

" Whenever you send some one with us. We
could not go alone ; but do not let us hurry.
Let us see you back at the old place, and this
white face can teach your people and all of us
about the Great Spirit, the dear Jesus. Mis-
tress Wilkins said this land needed such as he is

192 VIRGINIA DARE.

to hallow it — a priest." Virginia said the last
word reverently.

" The-pale face is good. The light of the
Great Spirit is in his eyes. He shall stay as long
as he will, and teach the people as Manteo
would have wished ; and surely Owaissa will
never hurry from the people who love her,"
Iosco replied.

" Do you know, Iosco," she said with a wist-
ful look, " do you know I almost dread going to
my people now. If I have forgotten even their
language, which I once knew so well, how much
less shall I know their ways and lives, which I
have never learned; they will not understand
me and my ways, they v/ill laugh at me. Your
people are really my people, for I know and
love them."

As Iosco sprang from the little boat, upon his
own land, he thought he had never felt so happy
before ; and when he turned and helped the
Englishman on the shore, giving him a welcome
after the manner of his people, Virginia won-
dered if the coming back had brought such joy
into his face ; she had not seen the pain that the
leaving of it must have caused.

The priest bared his head, and raising his
hand blessed the land and the people ; then the

VIRGINIA DARE. 193

little company moved up the hill. There were
the great fields of tobacco with their long leaves
shining in the sunlight; and there were the
fields of corn where the women must have lately
been working, but now there was not a sign of
woman or child. Virginia was anxious to see
the people ; and she hurried on before the others,
and ran swiftly over the grass, which was dotted
with daisies. She soon reached the council
house, which was like a great arbor, and hearing
voices she stopped and looked in.

It was, indeed, a weird, almost unearthly sight
that met her gaze. In the centre a great fire
burned; around it on the ground a circle was
formed of grains of corn; outside of this a
larger circle formed of meal. Six men, painted
red and black, with white circles painted about
their eyes, followed ; another, painted like them-
selves, only a little more gaudily, wore on his
head a sort of crescent made of weasel-skins
stuffed with dried moss, the tails tied together
at the top with a knot of bright feathers, while
the skins fell about his face and neck; a great
green snake was coiled around his throat, the
tail flapping about on his back. The crea-
ture, who was in fact the cliief medicine-man,
was a frightful object, as he danced before the

194 VIRGINIA DARE.

fire uttering unearthly yells. The people had
assembled in the arbor, bringing with them
offerings of every imaginable description for
sacrifice.

The purpose of this worship was to entreat
the Great Spirit to send Iosco back : they did
not know how to offer the Christian sacrifice,
yet they felt that their prayers must be accom-
panied by some proof of their earnestness ; so
they used the old form of heathen worship, the
only thing they had known till Manteo went to
England and came back a Christian ; but even
then there had been no one to teach them its
blessed worship. From Manteo and Mrs. Dare
they had only gained a glimmering of its first
principles, which they, poor heathen people as
they were, had eagerly grasped. The people
inside were so intent on their worship that they
did not notice Virginia, as she stood in the vine-
covered doorway, or the others who soon joined
her.

To Martin Atherton, the English priest, as
he gazed in at the wild, weird scene, it seemed
like the very entrance of hell, and that hideous
figure, the chief medicine-man, looked not un-
like the evil one himself, as he danced and
yelled, followed closely by the others. Then

VIRGINIA BARE. 195

all the people sent forth a groau, and the chief
medicine-man threw many of the offerings the
people had brought into the fire, which caused
a great crackling and spluttering. The groans
of the people rose dolefully, and the wild yell
of the medicine-man completed the frightful
scene.

When Iosco passed from the little group out-
side, and stood in the firelight before his people,
they thought he had come out of the fire, and
waited one moment to see if he would vanish
into it again. As he did not, they pressed their
hands to their hearts and yelled for joy, till the
very rocks seemed to tremble.

At a sign from Iosco his people were silent.
He spoke to them of his father, and of his
Christian faith; of the whites, and how Powha-
tan had killed most of them ; of the canoes now
in the river; of how he had heard they had
wanted him, and he had come. Now did they
wish him to remain ? With a great cry they
called him their chief, while the medicine-men
strewed corn before him, as a sign that all
should be his, and poor old Adwa, the squaw
who had nursed him, ran to the fire, and would
have thrown herself in as a thank-offering had
not Iosco caught her and pointed to Virginia,

196 VIRGINIA DARE.

who still stood in the doorway. She ran to her,
and held the head of soft wavy hair to her
breast as tenderly as any mother would have
done.

Martin Atherton looked on in amazement,
at the squaws gathered about Virginia, and
showed how tenderly they loved her. He could
see that she loved them, and for each she seemed
to have a few kind words. The children seemed
to rain down, more than a dozen having gath-
ered around her in a minute. As he watched
her caress them lovingly, and saw her pick up
one brown little boy, who was scarcely more
than a papoose, and hold him close to her heart,
he wondered if she could ever be happy in a
conventional English life, and what the draw-
ing-room would say and think of this forest
maiden.

CHAPTER XVI.

CHAPTER XVI.

" Life has two ecstatic moments, one when the spirit catches
sight of truth, the other when it recognizes a kindred spirit.
Perhaps it is only in the land of truth that spirits can discern
each other ; as it is when they are helping each other on that
they may best hope to arrive there. " — Edna Lyall.

It was the first of the Indian seasons, " the
fall of the leaf." Croatoan was glorious with
its colored leaves and late flowers. Weeks had
slipped by since the escape from Werowocomoca.
Iosco had been welcomed by his people ; so had
Owaissa. The other whites, the best of the col-
onists who had gone to Powhatan, and thor-
oughly frightened by all that had happened
there, were looked upon with suspicion for a
long time. But the new-comer, the pale Eng-
lishman, made friends with all. He was only
waiting for an opportunity to return to James-
town. He was a priest of the church, who had
worn himself out with work among the miners
in England. He was broken in health, and the

199

200 VIRGINIA DARE.

doctor in London had ordered a sea-voyage.
Just as the colony were starting from Blackwall,
Captain Newport persuaded him to go with them,
promising to bring him back to his work as soon
as he was strong again. So he had gone ; but
the name of Martin Atherton was not added to
the list, though he went across to the New
World. Perhaps he was sent in answer to the
prayers of a maiden.

Through the long months that passed, as the
summer slipped away and the autumn took its
place, the prayers of Mrs. Dare, yirginia, and
those few faithful souls, were answered. The
poor Indians, who had had glimmerings of a
liigher life, through Manteo, their dearly loved
chief, now listened eagerly to the message of
the church, as Martin Atherton told it in a sim-
ple, direct way, while they sat in a circle on the
ground about him, sometimes with great rever-
ence kissing the sacred Book from which the
holy teachings came.

Twice a day the sound of prayer and praise
went up from the little congregation. Virginia
had taught him the language of the people. He
told her that the father she so much yearned for
had not come, and he taught her about the dear
Lord and his church.

VIRGINIA DARE. 201

Poor Iosco was in trouble again. He had
never spoken of his love to Virginia, and she
did all in her power to conceal her love from
him. Of course he did not dream of such a pos-
sibility as her caring for him. But he watched
day by day, and counted every moment she spent
with Martin Atherton. Soon he would go to
the white people, and then he supposed Owaissa
would go too. -;/'

All Saints' Day dawned clear and bright. It
was to be a great day at Croatoan, but how
eventful none of them knew. It was time for
the great service to begin. Virginia's face was
radiant with happiness, her fair hair falling
loosely over her mantle of turkey feathers.

" She might be the Queen of Sheba," thought
Martin Atherton, as he came a little way behind
her. " Her dignity and simplicity are perfect.
Surely no one could doubt the grace of baptism
who knows a soul like that, with its desire for
knowledge growing stronger among heathen sur-
roundings ; a life of praise and worship, though
she does not know it. It was she that converted
these heathen, not I."

He watched her as she knelt, then kneeling
himself, his heart rose in earnest thanksgiving
for what he had been permitted to do, and a

202 VIRGINIA DARE.

prayer that his little Indian congregation might
ever be guided aright.

The two figures were kneeling when Iosco
joined them, followed by a number of his war-
riors, among them Ranteo, his honest face fairly
glowing with happiness. He thought of the day
when Manteo had been baptized in the little
chapel at Roanoke. Only then he had held an
ignorant reverence for the holy mystery that he
was now to receive himself, with a clear knowl-
edge of its grace and power.

The simple service began, the dear prayers
that we all know and love, a simple hymn, and
then the holy baptismal service. First Iosco
knelt, and then a long line of Indians, all kneel-
ing in turn reverently before the priest, were
baptized from a little spring that trickled through
mossy rocks.

It was a strange scene. The chapel formed
of a little clearing in the forest, its walls the
forest trees, its roof the arching branches, its
spire a tall poplar-tree reaching towards heaven,
its altar a rough rock. The open book from
which the prayers were read lay on the stump of
a tree : the birds joined in the hymns of praise,
and the deep sigh of the wind in the forest was
the organ.

VIRGINIA DARE. 203

The holy sign had been made on each brow,
and they were henceforth no longer heathen, but
soldiers of the great King. Martin Atherton stood
before his little congregation and spoke to them.
He did not preach on systematic theology, or
discuss the question whether St. Paul's garment
was his cloak or a vestment ; he spoke as a great
soul bringing a great message. He tried to show
his hearers the power of the gospel in the past
and in the present. He told it simply, but with
an eloquence that held every one. His clear
voice rang through the forest, with the last
words, " Then shall the righteous shine forth
as the sun in the kingdom of their Father." A
great silence crept over the little congregation
as the preacher raised his hand for the invoca-
tion, but not a sound came. He raised his eyes,
and fell backwards without a word. He lay
motionless by the rude altar. Loving hands
raised his head and laid it on Virginia's knee.
For a moment the people gathered silently
around the unconscious form, then drew away,
that they might not keep the reviving air from
him, allowing Virginia and Iosco to do what
they could, only following their directions. At
last the dark eyes opened and saw Virginia's
beautiful face filled with sorrow and anxiety.

204 VIRGINIA DARE.

" Dear child," he said, as he had often spoken
before, "please raise my head a little more.
This may pass, and I may be better soon ; don't
be anxious. If not " — he only smiled and did
not finish.

" Oh, you must not die ! " Virginia cried ; "we
need you ; so does God's work in this sad world."

" God does not need us, dear child : it is we
that need him. You will always be true and
faithful to your holy vows, and when the day
comes for you to go to England and to your
people, you will have teachers sent to these
people who are yours by adoption."

Somehow the thought of going to England
added to Virginia's pain at that moment, and
she drew closer to Iosco as the speaker fell into
a state of unconsciousness. Looking up into
Iosco's face, she read something new that she
had never seen there before. He had lono-ed
for the Christian faith ; he had wished for his
baptism ; he had believed all that Martin Ather-
ton had taught. The service that morning
had changed him. Those blessed drops "had
worked wonder there, earth's chambers never
knew." The right of a new birth, the perfect
faith of the man before him, had given Iosco
something he could not explain, but he knew

VIRGINIA DAEE. 205

and felt that the dear Lord was very near, and
the knowledge of that perfect love filling his
heart, his whole life, brought a peace which the
world could never take away. It made him
worthy of human love, and yet it made him feel
it was quite possible to live without it. When
we can say truthfully in our hearts, " Thy will
be done," God sends us often so great a bless-
ing that it almost frightens us as we receive it.

The little congregation had moved away.
Hours slipped by. Only Virginia and Iosco
watched by their friend, who still lay as if dead,
with only the slight, uneven fluttering of his
heart to show that there was yet life in the worn-
out body.

Virginia looked up at Iosco, and speaking
softly, said, '* If he really gets better, you ought
to send him to his people, that he may see them
before he dies."

" The blessed priest shall be carried before
the sunrise and laid among his people if he
lives. Iosco's warriors shall keep him from harm
by Powhatan. The Owaissa can then go with-
out fear to her people, and be happy," he replied.

" To-morrow, Iosco ? So soon ? 0 Iosco " —
Virginia faltered. Looking down suddenly into
her upturned face he read her great love. The

206 VIRGINIA DARE.

two looked into each other's eyes long and ear-
nestly, and each read the other's heart. Iosco
knelt, putting his arm around her, and whis-
pered, " Owaissa, my Owaissa ! " He kissed
her forehead again and again ; and she laid her
head on his breast and clung to him as she said,
"I will never, never go, Iosco. Your people
shall be my people. We shall be all to each
other now."

"My Owaissa will be all to Iosco forever."
/ When one soul which truly loves looks deep'^
• into another and reads there the answering love '
he has longed for, he knows what a great treas-
ure he has better than any one could tell him ;
and to both souls comes the sense that they are
no longer separate beings, but one in each
other. A golden light has spread over the
world, which, thank God, nothing earthly has
the power to destroy.

Two dark eyes had opened and were watching
them. Iosco was the first to notice that their
friend had roused; and, bending over him, he
asked if he wished to be taken to his own
people. The holy priest said with a gentle
smile, " There will not be time ; I shall die
among these people ; they are dear to me."

At his suggestion, the people were summoned.

y / ^vih^NIAaDARE. ^ ^ 207

He was raised and supported, and performed the
last act of ministry on earth.

A Christian wedding was a strange sight to
these poor people. It was over; Owaissa and
Iosco sat together, and watched by their friend
till the sun set, when his soul passed in the glory
of the golden sky to the perfect glory and
brightness of the people of God.

The story of the life of the first American
child has never been recorded in history ; but
that life, we know, was not wasted.

Who can tell what a pure, brave life may do ?
Lived in humble station in this nineteenth cen-
tury, or in the wild forest three hundred years
ago, as was Virginia Dare's !

^^'^

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