Hansford: A Tale of Bacon's Rebellion Part 10

All this Virginia saw and heard, and _felt_-yes, felt it all as a bitter mockery: as if, in these joyous bursts from the big heart of Nature, she were coldly regardless of the sorrows of those, her children, who had sought their happiness apart; as though the avenging Creator had given man naught but the bitter fruit of that fatal tree of knowledge, while he lavished with profusion on all the rest of his creation the choicest fruits that flourished in His paradise.

In vain did Bernard, with his soft and winning voice, point out these beauties to Virginia. In vain, with all the rich stores of his gifted mind, did he seek to alienate her thoughts from the one subject that engrossed them. She scarcely heard what he said, and when at length urged by the impatient nudges of her mother to answer, she showed by her absence of mind how faint had been the impression which he made. A thousand fears for the safety of her lover mingled with her thoughts.

Travelling alone in that wild country, with hostile Indians infesting the colony, what, alas! might be his fate! Or even if he should escape these dangers, still, in open arms against his government, proclaimed a rebel by the Governor, a more horrible destiny might await him. And then the overwhelming thought came upon her, that be his fate in other respects what it might-whether he should fall by the cruelty of the savage, the sword of the enemy, or, worst of all, by the vengeance of his indignant country-to her at least he was lost forever.

Avoiding carefully any reference to the subject of her grief, and bending his whole mind to the one object of securing her attention, Alfred Bernard endeavored to beguile her with graphic descriptions of the scenes he had left in England. He spoke-and on such subjects none could speak more charmingly-of the brilliant society of wits, and statesmen, and beauties, which cl.u.s.tered together in the metropolis and the palace of the restored Stuart. Pa.s.sing lightly over the vices of the court, he dwelt upon its pageantry, its wit, its philosophy, its poetry.

The talents of the gay and accomplished, but vicious Rochester, were no more seen dimmed in their l.u.s.tre by his faithlessness to his wife, or his unprincipled vices in the _beau monde_ of London. Anecdote after anecdote, of Waller, of Cowley, of Dryden, flowed readily from his lips.

The coffee-houses were described, where wit and poetry, science and art, politics and religion, were discussed by the first intellects of the age, and allured the aspiring youth of England from the vices of dissipation, that they might drink in rich draughts of knowledge from these Pierian springs. The theatre, the masque, the revels, which the genial rays of the Restoration had once more warmed into life, next formed the subjects of his conversation. Then pa.s.sing from this picture of gay society, he referred to the religious discussions of the day. His eye sparkled and his cheek glowed as he spoke of the triumphs of the established Church over puritanical heresy; and his lip curled, and he laughed satirically, as he described the heroic sufferings of some conscientious Baptist, dragged at the tail of a cart, and whipped from his cell in Newgate to Tyburn hill. Gradually did Virginia's thoughts wander from the one sad topic which had engrossed them, and by imperceptible degrees, even unconsciously to herself, she became deeply interested in his discourse. Her mother, whom the wily Bernard took occasion ever and anon, to propitiate with flattery, was completely carried away, and in the inmost recesses of her heart a hope was hatched that the eloquent young courtier would soon take the place of the rebel Hansford, in the affections of her daughter.

We have referred to a stream, along whose forest-banks their road had wound. That stream was the n.o.ble York, whose broad bosom, now broader and more beautiful than ever, lay full in their view, and on which the duck, the widgeon and the gull were quietly floating. Here and there could be seen the small craft of some patient fisherman, as it stood anch.o.r.ed at a little distance from the sh.o.r.e, its white sail shrouding the solitary mast; and at an opening in the woods, about a mile ahead, rose the tall masts of an English vessel, riding safely in the broad harbour of Yorktown-then the commercial rival of Jamestown in the colony.

The road now became too narrow for the gentlemen any longer to ride by the side of the carriage, and at the suggestion of the Colonel, an arrangement was adopted by which he should lead the little party in front, while Bernard should bring up the rear. This precaution was the more necessary, as the abrupt banks of the river, with the dense bushes which grew along them, was a safe lurking place for any Indians who might be skulking about the country.

"A very nice gentleman, upon my word," said Mrs. Temple, when Alfred Bernard was out of hearing. "Virginia, don't you like him?"

"Yes, very much, as far as I have an opportunity of judging."

"His information is so extensive, his views so correct, his conversation so delightful. Don't you think so?"

"Yes, mother," replied Virginia.

"Yes, mother! Why don't you show more spirit?" said her mother. "There you sat moping in the carriage the whole way, looking for all the world as if you didn't understand a word he was saying. That isn't right, my dear; you should look up and show more spirit-d'ye hear!"

"You mistake,mother; I did enjoy the ride very much, and found Mr.

Bernard very agreeable."

"Well, but you were so lack-a-daisical and yea, nay, in your manner to him. How do you expect a young man to feel any interest in you, if you never give him any encouragement?"

"Why, mother, I don't suppose Mr. Bernard takes any more interest in me than he would in any casual acquaintance; and, indeed, if he did, I certainly cannot return it. But I will try and cheer up, and be more agreeable for your sake."

"That's right, my dear daughter; remember that your old mother knows what is best for you, and she will never advise you wrong. I think it is very plain that this young gentleman has taken a fancy to you already, and while I would not have you too pert and forward, yet it is well enough to show off, and, in a modest way, do everything to encourage him. You know I always said, my dear, that you were too young when you formed an attachment for that young Hansford, and that you did not know your own heart, and now you see I was right."

Virginia did not see that her mother was right, but she was too well trained to reply; and so, without a word, she yielded herself once more to her own sad reflections, and, true-hearted girl that she was, she soon forgot the fascinations of Alfred Bernard in her memory of Hansford.

They had not proceeded far, when Bernard saw, seated on the trunk of a fallen tree, the dusky form of a young Indian, whom he soon recognized as the leader of the party who the day before had made the attack upon Windsor Hall. The interest which he felt in this young man, whose early history he had heard, combined with a curiosity to converse with one of the strange race to which he belonged, and, as will be seen, a darker motive and a stronger reason than either, induced Bernard to rein up his horse, and permitting his companions to proceed some distance in front, to accost the young Indian. Alfred Bernard, by nature and from education, was perfectly fearless, though he lacked the magnanimity which, united with fearlessness, const.i.tutes bravery. Laying his hand on his heart, which, as he had already learned, was the friendly salutation used with and toward the savages, he rode slowly towards Manteo. The young Indian recognized the gesture which a.s.sured him of his friendly intent, and rising from his rude seat, patiently waited for him to speak.

"I would speak to you," said Bernard.

"Speak on."

"Are you entirely alone?"

"Ugh," grunted Manteo, affirmatively.

"Where are those who were with you at Windsor Hall?"

"Gone to Delaware,[21] to Matchicomoco."[22]

"Why did you not go with them?" asked Bernard.

"Manteo love long-knife-Pamunkey hate Manteo-drive him away from his tribe," said the young savage, sorrowfully.

The truth flashed upon Bernard at once. This young savage, who, in a moment of selfish ambition, for his own personal advancement, had withheld the vengeance of his people, was left by those whom he had once led, as no longer worthy of their confidence. In the fate of this untutored son of the forest, the young courtier had found a sterner rebuke to selfishness and ambition than he had ever seen in the court of the monarch of England.

"And so you are alone in the world now?" said Bernard.

"Ugh!"

"With nothing to hope or to live for?"

"One hope left," said Manteo, laying his hand on his tomahawk.

"What is that?"

"Revenge."

"On whom?"

"On long-knives and Pamunkeys."

"If you live for revenge," said Bernard, "we live for nearly the same object. You may trust me-I will be your friend. Do you know me?"

"No!" said Manteo, shaking his head.

"Well, I know you," said Bernard. "Now, what if I help you to the sweet morsel of revenge you speak of?"

"I tank you den."

"Do you know your worst enemy?"

"Manteo!"

"How-why so?"

"I make all my oder enemy."

"Nay, but I know an enemy who is even worse than yourself, because he has made you your own enemy. One who oppresses your race, and is even now making war upon your people. I mean Thomas Hansford."

"Ugh!" said Manteo, with more surprise than he had yet manifested; and for once, leaving his broken English, he cried in his own tongue, "Ahoaleu Virginia." (He loves Virginia Temple.)

"And do you?" said Bernard, guessing at his meaning, and marking with surprise the more than ordinary feeling with which Manteo had uttered these words.

"See dere," replied Manteo, holding up an arrow, which he had already taken from his quiver, as if with the intention of fixing it to his bow-string. "De white crenepo,[23] de maiden, blunt Manteo's arrow when it would fly to her father's heart." At the same time he pointed towards the road along which the carriage had lately pa.s.sed.

"By the holy Virgin," muttered Bernard, "methinks the whole colony, Indians, negroes, and all, are going stark mad after this girl. And so you hate Hansford, then?" he said aloud.

"No, I can't hate what she loves," replied Manteo, feelingly.

"Why did you aid in attacking her father's house then, yesterday?"