CHAPTER II.

There stood Master Bradford in gown and bands, his kindly face upturned as he led the prayers and psalms. He had finished reading the lesson from St. John’s Gospel, when a little company entered the chapel and came straight up the aisle; first Governor White’s tall figure, then Mistress Wilkins, carrying the baby, closely followed by its father, who looked proud and happy.

Indian and white man alike arose as Master Bradford began the familiar and beautiful words of our baptismal service; and when he put the holy water on the wee brow and said, “Virginia, I baptize thee,” a murmur of satisfaction ran through the little congregation. Never was queen baptized with more ceremony, or in the presence of a more loving or devoted congregation, than this little grandchild of Governor White, who had received the name of the new country in which she was the first Christian baby born. It was because of her baptism that on this tenth Sunday after Trinity every one in the little Roanoke colony but the child’s own mother crowded into and around the roughly made log building that served for a church or chapel.

That first house of God in our land, which now, three hundred years later, abounds in splendid churches and cathedrals, was, I fancy, as precious to him who values our gifts by our love, and counts worth by sacrifice, as the gorgeous temples of our day. He did not despise the roughly made house in which the Holy Presence was first celebrated; that log room where there was moss for a carpet, a great bowlder for the altar, lichen and cup-moss for hangings, the font, a spring trickling through the stones; where for decorations the sweetbrier and wild creeper had forced their way between the logs, and clung to the barky walls, and where the little birds often flew in for their morning hymn of praise, and the forest trees raised their arms protectingly over the holy spot, forming, as it were, a lofty cathedral arch. To those loving Eyes watching from above, that humble square building, made by the loving hands of those first settlers as a token of their love and gratitude for bringing them safely through the mighty waters to so pleasant a port, that first chapel, I am sure, was as beautiful as are many of our richly carved and polished temples of stone.

As the service ended, the little congregation gathered outside the governor’s hut; inside, some of the principal men were talking to him, also Manteo, the Indian chief. Governor White was standing in the inner room by the bed; he was holding the baby in his arms, and speaking very earnestly. A voice from the bed cried, “O father, father dear, you will not leave me! do not, do not.”

“Yes, Eleanor,” was the reply; “God calls me back to England. I only waited to see your baby; with her you will find it less lonely, dear, and you are always brave.” And, as Ananias Dare came in and bent over the bed, Governor White walked out to the group of men waiting in the outer room. He closed the door behind him as he said, “Well, my men, I think this is a good time and place for me to tell you the plans we are to carry out.”

And then, stepping to the door, that those standing outside might hear what he said, he continued, “This is our plan: I shall sail for England as soon as we can make everything ready. Some of the men will go with me, the others remain here till our return. I do not mean in this particular place, but in this wonderful new country. I do not think it would be wise to remain on this island; any of the tribes which wish to drive you away have the advantage, being able to approach you on every side in their canoes. You are to leave Roanoke and go to the mainland, and settle in a spot not held by any particular tribe. Wanchese is no longer friendly; partly, I believe, because he thinks that at one time this island belonged to his tribe. However this may be, I am assured that it would be better for you to be on the mainland for many reasons, and that it would be wise for you to have nothing to do with Wanchese. When you leave Roanoke, carve on a tree that overhangs the little bay the name of the place you have removed to; if in danger or distress, carve over the name a cross. I have drawn up the laws that are to govern you, and which will be in my room ready for you to sign to-morrow. I will leave behind me ninety-one men, the seventeen women, and eight children, and these laws are to govern them.”As the governor saw the dissatisfied faces, he continued, “I shall return as soon as it is possible: I am sure you cannot doubt that. Am I not leaving you good security, my daughter and her child, this dear little one?”

He laid his hand on the swinging cradle in which he had put the baby; and then, raising the other hand and looking up, he said in a clear, distinct, and reverent way, “Before you all, my friends, and before my God, I swear I will be faithful to you. I will do to you as I hope and pray I may be done by. I shall remember you, as I want you to remember my laws and wishes, for which we shall have to answer in the day of the great Judgment.”

The men outside shuffled off, while those inside who belonged to the council talked long with the governor. Manteo listened, and admired the white chief’s power and wisdom.

The next day the men, though they had made many threats, one by one signed the laws that were to govern the colony.

Then there came days of busy preparation for the return of the ships to England, and the comfort of those to be left behind. Another baby face appeared, and the happy family of children now numbered five. Mr. Harvey proudly brought his baby to Master Bradford to receive its name,—Elizabeth.

Then came the dreadful day when the ships weighed anchor and passed out of sight, lost forever to those who watched their departure.

When Governor White’s return to England was talked of, the colonists dreaded the time of his leaving; they shrank from even thinking of it, and yet they did not begin to know what his departure meant to them. A handful of people in a great land among savages.

Mrs. Dare grew strong very slowly; had it not been for her baby, it is doubtful whether she ever would have rallied after parting with her father and husband; but that tiny face was a precious treasure, not only to the mother who watched it so lovingly, but also to every one in that little colony. There were few men, even, who did not look in at the door of the little hut some time in the course of every day “to take a look at the baby.” She would allow herself to be picked up by any one, at any time, without a murmur; in fact, the only time she had ever really cried, and then she did it with all her might, was while the governor’s ships were weighing anchor and slowly moving out of sight. Mistress Wilkins said the child was troubled with colic, but there were others who shook their heads and talked about omens and children’s wonderful power of foreseeing dangers or calamities while they were too young to talk, save with angels or spirits. But, be the case what it may, the fact remains that Virginia was an exceptionally good baby, did not cry at all till she was ten days old, and never again to amount to anything. This is perhaps why baby Elizabeth Harvey was not more loved; she was from the first a delicate child, and had more than her share of baby ailments and pains, and she was always crying, or just ready to begin at the slightest provocation. Some people were unkind enough to say that her mother deserved to have such a child, for calling her after the queen; that she would have just such a temper when she was grown up; while Virginia would be placid, sweet, and sunny, like the land of her name and birth.

Virginia was nearly five weeks old when the first change came into her baby life; in fact, this change was destined to affect the whole colony.