“John Laydon has not forgotten the kindness of Pocahontas in the years that are past. She is welcome to his house.”
“Pocahontas shall share the room with my baby girl. Will she not love the little papoose?” said Anne.
The Indian maid, who loved everything that was small and helpless, went down on her knees beside the cradle to caress the pink toes and kiss the dimpled hands of the little two-year-old baby. In a few days the little one could be seen holding on by the fringe on Pocahontas’s skirt as she toddled after her.
Under the capable supervision of the young matron Pocahontas commenced to learn the art of housekeeping. Following Anne, who flitted from one spot to another like a hummingbird, she learned to manage the spinning-wheel and loom. Various tiny garments for the baby daughter of her benefactress were made by Pocahontas, whose skilful fingers soon learned the use of the steel needle. Always some bright bit of Indian decoration could be found on them. She made dainty moccasins, embroidered in beads of many colors, for the tiny feet.
At first her Indian blood chafed against the narrow confines of Jamestown, shut up within the palisades; but after a while other forces began to work within her, and she became more reconciled as the year drifted by.
Rolfe’s pity and sympathy for her made him seek her society frequently. He conceived the idea of instructing her in the Christian religion, and teaching her how to read and speak the English language with fluency. She constantly reminded him of a slender lily, swaying in the breeze, and when alone with her he always called her Lily.
CHAPTER XXIII
A mellow afternoon in October. The purple clusters of grapes peep invitingly out from among the dark green leaves, and the invitation is eagerly accepted by the honey- and bumble-bees. Their droning hum fills the drowsy air with booming music.
Down to a favorite nook by the side of the church strolled John Rolfe and Pocahontas for the daily lesson.