"Believe ye not," she concluded, looking eagerly first at one and then the other of her brothers, "that our father will make peace for my sake with the nation to which my brave belongeth?"
Catanaugh said nothing, but Nautauquas laid his hand on his sister's arm and looked her in the eyes searchingly:
"Art thou happy?"
"Yea, Brother, very happy. He is dear to me because I know him and because I know him not. Thou surely hast not forgotten how Matoaka ever longed for what lay unknown beyond her."
"Hath thy manitou spoken?" questioned Nautauquas again.
"The God of the Christians is my god now," she answered.
"So should it be," said Nautauquas, although Catanaugh scowled; "a woman must worship the spirits to which her brave prayeth. Then all is well with thee?"
"All if my father will but make peace. I would I might go to see him. Doth he love me still?" she asked wistfully.
"He saith," answered Nautauquas, "that he loveth thee as his life and, though he hath many children, that he delighteth in none so much as in thee."
Pocahontas sighed half sadly, half happily. "Bear to him my loving greetings. Brother," she said, "and say to him that Matoaka's thoughts go to him each day, even as the tide cometh up the river from the sea."