"It is. She has wept as many foolish tears almost as yourself, since your confinement to this room."
"Thank God! You have taken a load from off my heart. There is then one soul within the house, of my own sex and blood too, who sympathises with me during these stern severities."
"Your trials will soon be over, my pretty coz, and then we will remove to a house of our own, and you shall lord it over some of these blackies, in revenge for their want of respect, to your heart's content." Attempting to chuck her under the chin, as he spoke, she was compelled to turn her head suddenly toward the window, for the double purpose of placing herself beyond the reach of his hand, and of concealing the rising flush of anger and contempt that glowed upon her countenance. She saw that he treated her as a child—that he imagined such conversation suited to the level of her capacity, and longed to humble his proud self-sufficiency, but dared not under present circumstances. For the first time in her life, she found herself compelled to disguise her natural feelings, and suppress the bitter words which rose upon her tongue. She therefore, by way of changing the conversation, and knowing not what else to say, inquired, "How soon does your army expect to return?"
"Soon, my dear coz, very soon. In ten days at farthest, I hope to lay some of the trophies of victory at your feet, and twine you a bridal turban from the standard of the rebel chief." Again she was forced to turn her head away. And the harmony of their meeting, constrained and unnatural as it was, would probably very soon have been ruptured by the almost bursting indignation which agitated her bosom, had not the martial summons to the evening parade called her tormentor from her presence.
By dawn of day, on the morning after the interview just related, the army under the command of Sir William Berkley took up its line of march toward the falls of the Powhatan.
Virginia was a sad and silent spectator of the imposing pageant. She stood at her window facing one of the cross streets, through which their march was directed, and examined the devices of banner after banner, as they moved along in martial pomp, to the soul-inspiring music of the drums and trumpets. No sympathizing emotions or half embodied supplications to the Ruler of Nations for the safety of their persons or the success of their arms burst from her lips. She saw the proud and self-satisfied Beverly curvetting by on his equally proud steed; she even saw him gayly wave his towering plumes in recognition of her presence without an answering nod or a single indication of approval. Her heart and hopes followed the standard of the youthful Captain who commanded the force which these were summoned to scatter and destroy. Long after the last ensign had passed from her sight, and the music was heard only in faint and distant echoes as it swelled and died away upon the air, she stood in the same spot, her eyes apparently still occupied with passing objects. It was not so—she was endeavouring to look into futurity. She pictured in her imagination the army of the Cavaliers, under Bacon, struggling in the murderous ambuscade of the concentrated savage tribes in front, and mercilessly cut down by their own countrymen in the rear. She saw the stern and uncompromising Sir William and his veteran compeers, brandishing their sabres over the heads of the younger Cavaliers, and Beverly and Bacon engaged in the deadly contest of personal rivalry and political hatred. Notwithstanding the disadvantages of the latter's position, youthful hopes and a sanguine temperament, awarded the victory to the cause which she believed the just one. She had already, as by miracle, escaped a fate which she considered far more to be deplored than death, and resolved to trust her own cause, and that in which it was involved, to him who rules the destinies of battles. She remembered, with feelings of adoration, that he had said that the race was not always to the swift nor the battle to the strong.
CHAPTER VII.
The army under the command of General Bacon had succeeded in concentrating the confederated tribes of the Peninsula, which had so long annoyed its flank and rear, at the falls of the Powhatan. Here they had erected a rude fortification, composed of fallen trees, having an entrenchment surrounding it, with the excavated earth thrown up as an embankment. This was situated upon an eminence commanding the more even ground on each side of a small stream, which ran nearly at right angles with, and fell into the river below the falls. The army of the Colonists arrived within sight of the Indian fires, just after the sun had sunk behind the horizon. General Bacon's plantation[3] was situated but a short distance from the very spot on which the savages had erected their fort, and consequently he was well acquainted with the ground. After halting a short time to examine the position of the enemy, he marched his troops to the open plain beneath their strong hold, in perfect silence. Here they bivouacked for the night, with the intention of storming the intrenchments at the first dawning of the morrow. Every thing was noiselessly put in readiness for this final struggle for supremacy between the whites and the Aborigines. The latter had collected in overwhelming numbers, and seemed determined to make a desperate effort to regain their lost footing in the land of their fathers, while the former, having daily improved in discipline, were in high health, buoyant with the youthful hope and courage, and impatient for the dawn, that they might strike a blow at once, to answer the high expectations of their friends at home, and terminate the war. Little did they imagine that an army of those very countrymen was treading in their footsteps, under the command of Sir William Berkley, with the avowed purpose of meting to them that chastisement which they were so impatient to bestow upon the enemy before them.