“You are a churl!”
I bowed. “I am the man of your choice, madam.”
She rose with a stamp of her foot, and, turning her back upon me, took a flower from the table and commenced to pull from it its petals. I unsheathed my sword, and, seating myself, began to polish away a speck of rust upon the blade. Ten minutes later I looked up from the task, to receive full in my face a red rose tossed from the other side of the room. The missile was followed by an enchanting burst of laughter.
“We cannot afford to quarrel, can we?” cried Mistress Jocelyn Percy. “Life is sad enough in this solitude without that. Nothing but trees and water all day long, and not a soul to speak to! And I am horribly afraid of the Indians! What if they were to kill me while you were away? You know you swore before the minister to protect me. You won't leave me to the mercies of the savages, will you? And I may go to Jamestown, may n't I? I want to go to church. I want to go to the Governor's house. I want to buy a many things. I have gold in plenty, and but this one decent dress. You'll take me with you, won't you?”
“There's not your like in Virginia,” I told her. “If you go to town clad like that and with that bearing, there will be talk enough. And ships come and go, and there are those besides Rolfe who have been to London.”
For a moment the laughter died from her eyes and lips, but it returned. “Let them talk,” she said. “What care I? And I do not think your ship captains, your traders and adventurers, do often dine with my lord bishop. This barbarous forest world and another world that I wot of are so far apart that the inhabitants of the one do not trouble those of the other. In that petty village down there I am safe enough. Besides, sir, you wear a sword.”
“My sword is ever at your service, madam.”
“Then I may go to Jamestown?”
“If you will it so.”
With her bright eyes upon me, and with one hand softly striking a rose against her laughing lips, she extended the other hand.