CHAPTER IX.
When great sorrow comes to us in youth, we feel it must affect and change the whole world; but when we have lived longer in this changeable world, we take it for granted that the whirl of life will go on as usual, only we ourselves drop out for a little while, to fight with our heartache alone, and to conquer it, with God’s help, ere we take up the busy thread of our life again with placid faces, just as if our thread and shuttle were as bright and beautiful as before; and perhaps when all our work looks gray to us, we are weaving the most perfect and beautiful pattern. Poor little Virginia had never thought of life without her mother, until that conversation which Manteo had interrupted; and then her mind was so full of Iosco’s sickness that she did not think of her mother’s words again until that So the years passed by, and Owaissa grew from a child to a girl. She was tall and slender; her eyes had a more thoughtful expression than when she was a child, but in other ways she was unchanged. She grew up a perfectly natural girl, full of the poetry and romance of the wild people of the forest. Iosco was still her devoted friend: she looked upon him as a brother. They wandered through the forest together, gathering flowers or acorns or sweet grasses. Sometimes they sat down and rested on the banks of a little stream, and told each other stories. Iosco’s were of the wild Indian lore. He told her of Odjibwa and the Red Swan, of Hiawatha and his Minnehaha. One day they sat on the bank of a little stream which rushed on, making a tiny waterfall just Her eyes of deepest blue were looking thoughtfully far away. Iosco was fond of Virginia, very fond; but he never thought of her as he did of the Indian maidens. The moments he spent with her were the happiest in his life. When they walked hand in hand, a strange thrill passed through him. He would have died for her willingly, had there been any need. His quick eye saw now that she was sad as she sat listening; and he drew closer to her as he asked, “Where do Owaissa’s thoughts go, that they send such sorrow out of her eyes?” He nodded as he replied, “Owaissa is like a bird, her eyes are so bright, her laugh is so merry.” “I try to be,” she went on, “and I am very happy indeed. Every one is so kind to me; but sometimes I can’t help wishing very much that I could see some of my own people. I should like to know if my father is alive, and if he sometimes thinks of me. He went away when I was only ten days old: I know he could not forget his baby.” They sat silently for a few minutes, then Virginia looked up into Iosco’s face. “You know,” she said softly, “sometimes I feel sure my father will come for me and take me away.” Had she felt Iosco’s hand, she would have been astonished at its icy coldness, and would have wondered what made him clinch his fingers as if he were in pain. From that day a wild dread of the white man’s return haunted Iosco. “No: you never told it to me. I should like to hear it,” Virginia said, with a little sigh. Iosco would have made an ideal picture as he sat there. His black hair was thrown back from a high forehead, beneath which two dark eyes looked out, which were remarkable for their depth and truth. He had a straight, well-cut nose, and a mouth almost severe, so firm and decided was its expression. When he smiled, one forgot the stern look, for a sweet, gentle expression transformed the face. It was a classical face, and its owner had a deep sense and appreciation of the poetry of life. Certainly they made a study for an artist,—the fair girl with her golden hair, and the graceful figure of the Indian, as he told her the quaint old Indian legend. “Many, many moons back, in the sunny north, over towards the setting sun, lived a mighty Werowance whom they called Tyee. His lands stretch all along the beautiful sound, where fine wampum is found. This Tyee had a daughter. The name of the beautiful maid was “One day a brave warrior came, tall and handsome. Battao looked at him, trusted his brave eyes, and loved him. As they floated over the smooth waters in Battao’s swift canoe, they came to a beautiful island, where they sat on the shore and talked. And many days when the sun had gone half-way on its journey, and done its day’s baking, so that the air was as that which comes from the fire, Battao and her maidens would cross to the beautiful island, and there her lover would tell them strange stories. As they listened, the maidens sifted the soft sea-sand through their fingers, and as it fell upon the shore it formed the shape of whatever Battao’s lover was saying; there it hardened, and yet may be found, and it brings the favor of all the gods to any one who finds one of the forms and wears it in his wampum belt.” “Yes,” he said, “I should; and I should like to go to that land, it is so sunny, our captive said.” “It could not be more lovely than it is here,” Virginia replied; “but please go on and tell me what became of Battao.” Iosco was happy for the present; at least he had made Owaissa forget the white tribe, and the canoes with pinions like wings, that she had said she was sure would come. So he went on gladly:— “One day, when Battao, with her lover in her canoe, and all her maids in their canoes, were going back from the beautiful island, as they came to the deep part of the water, Battao’s lover said some words to her in a strange language that the maiden could not understand, then sprang into the water. Battao did not cry out, she only looked down where her lover had disappeared; so did her maidens. But he did not rise, nor could they see anything of him, and they went home to their people. When they told the strange story, all the people said Battao’s lover had drowned himself, and other men began to come every hour. But Battao “Oh, how happy she must have been!” cried Virginia. “Yes, very happy,” continued Iosco, “and all of Battao’s people; for her lover brought many presents with him, rare and wonderful flowers that grow in the sea, and large pearls. For Battao he brought beautiful coral. Then there was a great happiness among all the people; for Battao and her lover were married. As They sat silently for a few moments, when Iosco had finished the story; then Virginia asked, “Do you think, Iosco, that all can tell whether they will love each other when they look at each other for the first time?” There was a strange look in Iosco’s eyes, as he answered, “Iosco can tell little about such things, Owaissa; some people surely could.” After another pause, Virginia said, “Your stories are so beautiful, Iosco, and I love them; but they make me wish that I knew more of the stories of my people; there must be many that I have never heard, and even some of those my mother told me I have forgotten. I ought to have remembered them, and then I could tell you them, and teach you more about our God. I speak of him only to you, Iosco, for I know He did not reply; and they sat quietly together, only the song of the little birds above, and the sound of the falling water broke the perfect stillness. |