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, trying 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 admiration, 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 beyond 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, crying.
Life came back; the weary brain began slowly to awake. The great blue eyes opened. She tried to smile; but that awful scene came before 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 forgot 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:—