Skip to main content

Full text of "Virginia Dare : a romance of the sixteenth century"

See other formats





r^ J ';■ * -T f 


;^ ') 



Pi rt^- 


f ; o ■.;-.■■■ : 

'' ; ".r i 

^r ^L'ir^^' 



ft: :"■ ' • • -; ■ : 

* • J t . I . . . -, 


. ' .- • i 



; K 

■•'»;.■ V 

Library of the 
University of North Carolina 

Endowed by the Dialectic and Phifetn- 
thropic Societies 

0.81 3 - sww 


























This book must not 
be taken from the 
Library building. 

Form No. 471 



Paee 184. 


a Romance of i^t Sixteentij Centurg 


E. A. B. S., 



Library, Univ. ©f 
North Carolina 


2 AND 3 Bible House 


Copyright, 1892, 
By Thomas Whittaker. 




Eeberenti SosepI) dareg^ ^M^, 




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. 





"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 



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- 


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 

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


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 


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 


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 


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 

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.'* 


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 

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 


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 


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. 



"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." 


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 

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- 



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 


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 


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.'' 


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 


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 


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. 



" 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- 



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 

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 

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 


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 


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 

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 


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. 


" Chief Manteo ! " 

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

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 



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. 



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 



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." 


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 

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 

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, 


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, 


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 

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


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 


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- 


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

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 


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- 


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." 


" 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 


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." 



*' 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?" 


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- 



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 


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. 


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 


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 


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 


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' 

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 


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." 


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, 


" 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 


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." 



"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. 



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 

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 


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 


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 


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 


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. 


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 

"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 

" 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 


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 

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 


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 


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 


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

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- 


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- 


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. 



"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 

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 



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 

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 


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 

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 


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- 


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 

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 


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. 


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 


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 


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. 


? J 


" 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. 



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 


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 

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

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 


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- 


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 


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 

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 


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 


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, 

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. 



** 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 




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 


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 


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 


"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 

"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. 


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 

"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 


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 


" 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 

" 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 


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 

"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 


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 


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 


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. 



** 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 




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 


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 

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 


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 


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." 


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 


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 

"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 


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' 


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. 



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


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 



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 


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 


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 


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 


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, 


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 


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 


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. 



" 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." 


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 



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 


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 


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 


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 

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 ? " 


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, 


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 


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 


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- 


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 

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 


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. 





" 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 



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, 


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 

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 


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 ? " 


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 

" 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 


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 
• Virginia kissed her brown cheek as she an- 


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 


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 


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- 


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. 


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? 



" 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." 


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 



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 


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." 


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 


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 

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. 


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 

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 


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 

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 


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- 


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 


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 

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 ? 




" 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. 



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 


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 


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, 


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 


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 

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 

A slight noise in the darkness startled them. 


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 


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 

" 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- 


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 


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 


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 


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

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 

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 


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 

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, 


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 

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 



" 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 



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. 


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 


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. 


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. 


" 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 


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 ? Iosco " — 
Virginia faltered. Looking down suddenly into 
her upturned face he read her great love. The 


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 !