With an exclamation I got upon my trembling feet, and back I went through the tall grass, the Indian girl at my heels. Thank God she was still there; I could see the white dress as it gleamed in the moonlight. Reaching her side I bent over her; her eyes opened and she gazed up into mine.
"I knew that thou wouldst come," she murmured. "They told me thou wert dead, but I knew it was false, and I have waited long and patiently, praying that thou wouldst take me from this place."
"Yes," I answered gently, "I have come. Would that it had been sooner, but I have done my best. I grieve that thou shouldst have been subjected to the threats and terror of this man so long, but it is past now forever."
"Yes, gone," she repeated softly. "But take me away from here."
Bending over her, I took her up with my right arm, as though she had been a tired child, and with her head upon my shoulder, I retraced my steps to where I had met Dunraven. Never will I forget that walk with Margaret in my arms; I was weary—yea, exhausted—my left arm broken, but I had forgotten these things—forgotten that my enemies lay cold and still in that silent forest, and would trouble me no more. I only knew that I held in my arms one that was more to me than all else in this great world, that she lay nestled close to my heart, her light breath gently fanning my cheek. For a few brief moments I tasted the ambrosial nectar of the gods, and was content.
With Margaret I could walk on forever through these dark forests, feeling neither hunger, thirst, nor cold. Manteo had joined us, three fresh and bleeding scalps at his belt—one was the Indian's, another the priest's, and the third that of the sailor, Miles. Without a word he led the way down the path to the boats, I following, with Winona, her eyes fixed upon my slightest motion, behind. We had traveled perhaps one-half of the distance when Margaret stirred.
"I have recovered sufficiently to walk," she said. And looking down at her face in the moonlight, I could see the deep blush upon her cheek and neck.
"But canst thou walk?" I answered, loath to loose her. "'Tis but a few steps more to the boat."
"Nay," she replied, "I can walk now." And gently, but firmly, she loosed herself from my arm, and turned to follow Manteo, who strode down the path ahead of me.
"What is wrong with thy arm?" Margaret cried in alarm, for a sudden faintness had seized me, and I staggered blindly as I caught with my sound hand at my left arm from which a stream of blood was spurting.