“Darling, you must learn to be good without me; we may not always be together, you know.”
Mrs. Dare spoke with so much feeling that Virginia started and looked pained. But before she could speak, the skin that hung in front of the doorway was drawn aside, and Manteo came in. He sat down, with bowed head, and without speaking a word. Virginia, who had learned to love him, sat quietly at first. She knew he must be in very great trouble over the sufferings 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 wigwam. Mrs. Dare bent over Iosco as he lay on a tussan of balsam on the floor of the wigwam, restless with fever. She stroked the dark hair back from the flushed forehead, and then turning 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!”