“Not in the streets only,” he said courteously. “I remember now: 't was at my lord bishop's dinner. A very courtly company it was. You were laughing with my Lord Rich. You wore pearls in your hair”—
She met his gaze fully and boldly. “Memory plays us strange tricks at times,” she told him in a clear, slightly raised voice, “and it hath been three years since Master Rolfe and his Indian princess were in London. His memory hath played him false.”
She took her seat in the great chair which stood in the centre of the room, bathed in the sunlight, and the negress brought a cushion for her feet. It was not until this was done, and until she had resigned her fan to the slave, who stood behind her slowly waving the plumed toy to and fro, that she turned her lovely face upon us and bade us be seated.
An hour later a whippoorwill uttered its cry close to the window, through which now shone the crescent moon. Rolfe started up. “Beshrew me! but I had forgot that I am to sleep at Chaplain's to-night. I must hurry on.”
I rose, also. “You have had no supper!” I cried. “I too have forgotten.”
He shook his head. “I cannot wait. Moreover, I have feasted,—yea, and drunk deep.”
His eyes were very bright, with an exaltation in them as of wine. Mine, I felt, had the same light. Indeed, we were both drunk with her laughter, her beauty, and her wit. When he had kissed her hand, and I had followed him out of the house and down the bank, he broke the silence.
“Why she came to Virginia I do not know “—
“Nor care to ask,” I said.
“Nor care to ask,” he repeated, meeting my gaze. “And I know neither her name nor her rank. But as I stand here, Ralph, I saw her, a guest, at that feast of which I spoke; and Edwyn Sandys picked not his maids from such assemblies.”