She raised her head proudly, her dark eyes looking into mine.
"Why should I fear to tell it?" she cried. "Winona loves the Eagle; she knows that his heart belongs to the beautiful one, and that he will fly far away with her to his wigwam. Shall Winona go to eat out her heart with sorrow at the bliss she cannot share? No, she returns to her own. Thou art near thy journey's end. Two days more and thou wilt stand on the Island of Roanoke—Winona would leave thee now."
"But, Winona," I cried, "I go not back to England with Lady Margaret!"
She looked intently at me.
"Dost love the beautiful one?" she asked fiercely. "Answer me the truth at this last moment."
"Yes," I answered simply, "I love her."
"And thou wouldst ask me to serve her?" she cried. "One whom thou lovest? Wouldst thou have served the chief whom thou didst chase over the precipice, if the beautiful one had loved him?"
"No," I answered. "Thou knowest I would not." I could say no more, so I stood silent and waited.
"Winona will not forget the Eagle," she said in a low voice. "When she grows to be an old woman, she will tell how she once knew and loved the great white chief. Winona knows the Eagle and the beautiful one will be happy."
"Winona," I said sadly, "the Lady Margaret loves another."