The gentle girl was now turning sixteen, and had developed into great loveliness, but seemed wholly unconscious of her charms, and really I believe, that was the one thing that drew so many worshippers to her shrine.
About this time a party of gentlemen had arrived from old England, looking at lands for the settlement of some emigrants who were anxious to throw in their fate with the new settled country, and among them were the sons of some of Mr. Stanton’s early and close friends.
Frank Berkley, nephew of the ex-governor, was among the number, and soon won his way to the hearts of old and young alike, by his kindliness and sprightliness.
Alice seemed unusually lively, when he was regaling her with his exploits at college or his tilts with the fair sex at home, and her merry laugh would ring out at his bright wit or mirthful sallies.
None seemed to observe the vengeful scowls Powhatan would throw at the jolly crowd, as he crossed and recrossed the Hall, but would never enter the parlor, nor join in any of the sports. I said none—none save the anxious mother, who ever had her eye on her darling and when as a great secret Alice confided to her, that Frank wanted to take her across the water with him as his bride, she assented cheerfully, for she felt that to be the only way to save her child from some direful fate.
The party was going farther West, making explorations, and would return about Christmas time, to enjoy the festivities of that season under Mr. Stanton’s hospitable roof, and would then take shipping for home. Farewells were said, and all were well on their way, but Frank lingered. “Stay with us, Frank,” Alice said tearfully, “we will be so lonely when you are gone,” and Frank felt he would willingly tear his heart out, if it would comfort the little girl he had grown to love so much in two months.
“But,” he said, “my darling, then I would be accounted a laggard in duty, for don’t you know I was put in charge of this expedition; and will be held strictly accountable for its failure?”
“Oh!” she said, “Frank, forgive me. I will not be such a baby. I know you will soon be back, and I will try to scare away the blues and bid you a cheerful good-bye,” and he never forgot to his dying day, how she put her arms around his neck and kissed him a fond farewell. The last echo brought to him her parting words, “back soon.” They did not know that an eye had watched their parting, and the owner of that orb, had trembled with rage when he witnessed the caress.
Powhatan tried to coax her to ride or row, and had made and painted pure white, a little canoe for her, but she told him it made her tired to use the oars. “Come and see what a beauty your boat is, Minnehaha; you care no more for your poor Powhatan,” he said sadly.
“Oh yes, I do,” she replied, “but I worked so hard entertaining papa’s friends, I must rest up, but I will see the boat,” and taking his hand she ran lightly to the barn, to see and admire the little white canoe, with places all around the top for lights to be inserted, when the candles were lit at night; it certainly made a beautiful show. But his coaxing could not induce her to go on the water in it, and the craft was only rigged up to show to her friends, and still remained in Powhatan’s workshop. The mornings were beginning to be frosty and the air to show that the weeks had passed along and soon now, they might look for the return of the friends. Wild turkeys were killed and dressed, venison hams were baked and boiled, and the array of cakes and pies in the pantry, looked most tempting. On the afternoon of the 23d of December, Mr. Stanton was decorating the rooms, under the supervision of his good wife, and calling to Alice, said, “Daughter, we do need some holly so much, could you not take one of the boys, and get some from the wood on the swamp road? I must hie me to the postoffice or would get it myself.”