CHAPTER VIII.

The winter after Virginia was seven years old was one which could never be forgotten by those who lived through it. The snow fell thick and fast for days together. Then came a cold wind, which blew until the streams were frozen like iron, and the great snow mounds became as mountains of shining metal. The wind sang dirges among the leafless trees; the hunters went out day after day, and returned empty-handed; the forest seemed deserted by all living things. The children cried for food, and not getting it, sickened and died. The women made fires and offered gifts to the Great Spirit of the Hunt. Manteo and his Christian people offered prayers daily. But all appeared to be of no avail.Mrs. Dare was lying on her tussan of skins, and Virginia kneeling by her, with her arms tightly round her mother’s neck. They were talking as they often did together. Virginia was saying, “But, mamma, why does God send trouble and sorrow and pain to us if he really loves us?”

“It is just because he does love us, darling, that he sends us sorrow to lead us to love him,” was the gentle reply.

“But, mamma, dearest, you love God, yet he sends you so much pain. And you have not enough to eat, either. It cannot be to make you love him,” said Virginia.

“Yes, my darling; we may love him all our lives, and yet not give him all the love we owe him. He never sends a pain or sorrow that is not for our good, though we cannot always know why it is. When you were a very little girl, almost a baby, and your gums were so sore, it was because I loved you and wanted to save you from pain that I lanced the sore place and gave you great pain just for a moment. You could not understand why then, even if I had explained it to you, but you never doubted my love. You knew I would not hurt you unnecessarily. We must trust God in the same way, dear, for he loves us even more than I love you.”

“O mamma! you make me good; when I am with you I can do anything. I don’t even mind being hungry;” and Virginia’s great blue eyes were full of tears as she looked into her mother’s face.

“Darling, you must learn to be good without me; we may not always be together, you know.”

Mrs. Dare spoke with so much feeling that Virginia started and looked pained. But before she could speak, the skin that hung in front of the doorway was drawn aside, and Manteo came in. He sat down, with bowed head, and without speaking a word. Virginia, who had learned to love him, sat quietly at first. She knew he must be in very great trouble over the sufferings of his people, and her loving heart was full of sympathy.

At last she crept softly to him, and laid her curly head on his brown hand. Her eyes told more than words could express. With a great effort he raised his head.

“The Great Spirit, the mighty Werowance, has forgotten us, or he is angry. The people die, and there is no food. Manteo’s own child Iosco has the curse. There is no food to give him; he must die.”

“No!” cried Virginia, “God will not let Iosco die. Have you asked him for food for Iosco, Werowance Manteo? I know he will save him.”

“All night,” replied Manteo, “under the stars on the cold snow did Manteo talk with God. But he would not hear him.”

Mrs. Dare had risen. Manteo could not fail to notice how frail and ill she looked, as she came toward him. She drew the skin that lay over the couch around her as she said, “Manteo, take me to Iosco!”

He sprang up, a gleam of hope in his dark eyes. “Will the lady go to Iosco?” he cried. “Will she ask the Great Spirit to save the boy’s life? Her god will hear her voice, though it be soft as a morning breeze in the budding time.”

They passed out into the biting wind, the tall chief bowed with grief, the delicate English lady, and the sweet child with golden hair, and walked over the frozen snow to Manteo’s wigwam. Mrs. Dare bent over Iosco as he lay on a tussan of balsam on the floor of the wigwam, restless with fever. She stroked the dark hair back from the flushed forehead, and then turning to Virginia, said in English, “Go and ask Mistress Wilkins to give you the red herbs, and bring them to me quickly, dear.”

Virginia flew over the snow, and returned with the herbs in a small iron pot that had been brought from Roanoke, before the squaws crouching around the wigwam thought she had time even to reach Mistress Wilkins. Mrs. Dare stirred up the fire which was smouldering on the floor of the wigwam, prepared the herbs carefully, and boiled them in the iron pot. Poor Iosco lay gasping, delirious, and exhausted. Manteo thought he was dying, and caught Mrs. Dare’s hand almost fiercely as he cried, “Ask the Great Spirit! Oh, ask him quickly!”

She knelt down quietly by the poor boy, Virginia knelt too, and all followed their example. There had been regular hours for prayer before Howe and Gage had been lost; since then, all were welcome who cared to come to Mrs. Dare’s wigwam for devotions. She felt keenly a woman’s dislike to put herself conspicuously before the world, even though it were a little heathen world; but she had taught them a great deal in a quiet way. They felt she was their friend; they knew and loved her. And now with her simple words of prayer every heart in that rude cabin was lifted to the great Father above. Mrs. Dare gave Iosco the herb-tea that had been simmering over the fire. The hot draught and her gentle ministration soothed the poor boy, and he fell into a quiet sleep. Manteo still knelt on the floor. When he saw his boy sleeping sweetly, he exclaimed, “The Father is great and good, but he is angry with the redman, and will not hear his voice. Only the voices of the Blue-eyes reach his camp.”

“Oh, no!” said Mrs. Dare earnestly. “Oh, no, Werowance Manteo! The great Father loves us all, and he hears your prayers as soon as you speak. Ask him now to guide you, and go to the forest and hunt, for Iosco must have something to strengthen him when he awakes.”

“Will the white lady speak to the Great Spirit for Manteo while he goes and hunts?” he asked.

“I will, indeed,” she replied. And Manteo silently took his bow and arrows and left the wigwam.

For hours Iosco slept peacefully. At sunset his father returned, to the great joy and delight of every one, bringing with him the flesh of a young bear. Mrs. Dare prepared a dainty dish, and told Virginia to give Iosco a little when he first awakened, and to come and tell her how he was; that she was going back to her own wigwam for a while. Virginia was a very sensible little woman for only seven years old. She was born with the rare and blessed gift of a true nurse; and though there were five squaws in the wigwam, they let her sit close to the patient, feeling that she had a sort of supernatural power. They were afraid when her mother went away; but, as Iosco grew no worse, they decided Virginia must have the same power with the Great Spirit. When at last Iosco stirred and opened his eyes, one of them handed Virginia the food, that her hand might put it to his lips. He smiled at her as he took a little of the food, and then he went to sleep again. She slipped away to tell her mother the good news that Iosco was certainly better. Virginia stepped out of the wigwam into the cold night air. How the wind howled! The silver moonlight lay on everything, making the world in its white winding-sheet ghastly enough. The cold desolation seemed to freeze Virginia’s heart. She shuddered as she ran on. Here was Beth coming to meet her. “Dear Beth, how good you are to come! Iosco is better. But what’s the matter?” she asked, as Beth drew her toward the light that shone from the wigwam. Mistress Wilkins was there, and two old squaws, she saw as she reached the doorway. And her mother, where was she? A cry broke from Virginia as she saw her lying white and motionless on the bed. She threw herself on her knees, and laying her head on her mother’s breast she cried again and again, “Mamma, dearest mamma! Oh, speak to me just once, your own little girl. Open your eyes, please! Do look at me, oh, please, mamma.”

But the still, calm face lay against the black robe, in that peace which sorrow or pain alike are powerless to disturb.

A hemorrhage had come on just after she had left Iosco. She never spoke again, but lay with folded hands till the angel of death closed her eyes forever. Virginia was alone.