Hansford: A Tale of Bacon's Rebellion Part 8

"Oh, my poor girl," said Virginia, taking her tenderly by the hand, "I wish you could stay with me, and let me teach you as I used to about G.o.d and heaven. Oh, think of these things, Mamalis, and they will make you happy even when alone. Wouldn't you like to have a friend always near you when Manteo is away?"

"Oh yes," said the girl earnestly.

"Well, there is just such a Friend who will never desert you; who is ever near to protect you in danger, and to comfort you in distress.

Whose eye is never closed in sleep, and whose thoughts are never wandering from his charge."

"That cannot be," said the young Indian, incredulously.

"Yes, it both can be and is so," returned her friend. "One who has promised, that if we trust in him he will never leave us nor forsake us.

That friend is the powerful Son of G.o.d, and the loving Brother of simple man. One who died to show his love, and who lives to show his power to protect. It is Jesus Christ."

"You told me about him long ago," said Mamalis, shaking her head, "but I never saw him. He never comes to Manteo's wigwam."

"Nay, but He is still your friend," urged Virginia earnestly. "When you left the room this morning on that work of mercy to save us all, I did not see you, and yet I told my father that I knew you would do us good.

Were you less my friend because I didn't see you?

"No."

"No," continued Virginia, "you were more my friend, for if you had remained with me, we might all have been lost. And so Jesus has but withdrawn Himself from our eyes that He may intercede with his offended father, as you did with Manteo."

"Does he tell lies for us?" said the girl with artless simplicity, and still remembering her interview with her brother. Virginia felt a thrill of horror pa.s.s through her heart as she heard such language, but remembering the ignorance of her poor blinded pupil, she proceeded.

"Oh! Mamalis, do not talk thus. He of whom I speak is not as we are, and cannot commit a sin. But while He cannot commit sin Himself, He can die for the sins of others."

"Well," said the poor girl, seeing that she had unwittingly hurt the feelings of her friend, "I don't understand all that. Your G.o.d is so high, mine I can see and understand. But you love your G.o.d, I only fear mine."

"And do you not believe that G.o.d is good, my poor friend?" said Virginia, with a sigh.

"From Manitou all good proceeds," replied Mamalis, as with beautiful simplicity she thus detailed her simple creed, which she had been taught by her fathers. "From him is life, and joy, and love. The blue sky is his home, and the green earth he has made for his pleasure. The fresh smelling flowers and the pure air are his breath, and the sweet music of the wind through the woods is his voice. The stars that he has sown through heaven, are the pure sh.e.l.ls which he has picked up by the rivers which flow through the spirit land; and the sun is his chariot, with which he drives through heaven, while he smiles upon the world. Such is Manitou, whose very life is the good giving; the bliss-bestowing."

"My sweet Mamalis," said Virginia, "you have, indeed, in your ignorance, painted a beautiful picture of the beneficence of G.o.d. And can you not-do you not thank this Giver of every good and perfect gift for all his mercies?"

"I cannot thank him for that which he must bestow," said the girl. "We do not thank the flower because its scent is sweet; nor the birds that fill the woods with their songs, because their music is grateful to the ear. Manitou is made to be adored, not to be thanked, for his very essence is good, and his very breath is love."

"But remember, my friend, that the voice of this Great Spirit is heard in the thunder, as well as in the breeze, and his face is revealed in the lightning as well as in the flower. He is the author of evil as well as of good, and should we not pray that He would avert the first, even if He heed not our prayer to bestow the last."

If Virginia was shocked by the sentiments of her pupil before, Mamalis was now as much so. Such an idea as ascribing evil to the great Spirit of the Universe, never entered the mind of the young savage, and now that she first heard it, she looked upon it as little less than open profanity.

"Manitou is not heard in the thunder nor seen in the lightning," she replied. "It is Okee whose fury against us is aroused, and who thus turns blessings into curses, and good into evil. To him we pray that he look not upon us with a frown, nor withhold the mercies that flow from Manitou; that the rains may fall upon our maize, and the sun may ripen it in the full ear; that he send the fat wild deer across my brother's path, and ride on his arrow until it reach its heart; that he direct the grand council in wisdom, and guide the tomahawk in its aim in battle.

But I have tarried too long, my brother may await my coming."

"Nay, but you shall not go-at least," said Virginia, "without something for your trouble. You have nearly lost a day, already. And come often and see me, Mamalis, and we will speak of these things again. I will teach you that your Manitou is good, as well as the author of good; and that he is love, as well as the fountain of love in others; that it is to him we should pray and in whom we should trust, and he will lead us safely through all our trials in this life, and take us to a purer spirit land than that of which you dream."

Mamalis shook her head, but promised she would come. Then loading her with such things as she thought she stood in need of, and which the poor girl but seldom met with, except from the same kind hand, Virginia bid her G.o.d speed, and they parted; Mamalis to her desolate wigwam, and Virginia to her labours in the household affairs, which had devolved upon her.[18]

FOOTNOTES:

[16] Fact.

[17] This was also the name of the only son of the great Powhatan, as appears by John Smith's letter to the Queen, introducing the Princess Pocahontas.

[18] In the foregoing scene the language of Mamalis has been purposely rendered more pure than as it fell from her lips, because thus it was better suited to the dignity of her theme. As for the creed itself, it is taken from so many sources, that it would be impossible, even if desirable, to quote any authorities. The statements of Smith and Beverley, are, however, chiefly relied upon.

CHAPTER XI.

"And will you rend our ancient love asunder, And join with men in scorning your poor friend."

_Midsummer Night's Dream._

While Virginia was thus engaged, she was surprised by hearing a light step behind her, and looking up she saw Hansford pale and agitated, standing in the room.

"What in the world is the matter?" she cried, alarmed at his appearance; "have the Indians-"

"No, dearest, the Indians are far away ere this. But alas! there are other enemies to our peace than they."

"What do you mean?" she said, "speak! why do you thus agitate me by withholding what you would say."

"My dear Virginia," replied her lover, "do you not remember that I told you last night that I had something to communicate, which would surprise and grieve you. I cannot expect you to understand or appreciate fully my motives. But you can at least hear me patiently, and by the memory of our love, by the sacred seal of our plighted troth, I beg you to hear me with indulgence, if not forgiveness."

"There are but few things, Hansford, that you could do," said Virginia, gravely, "that love would not teach me to forgive. Go on. I hear you patiently."

"My story will be brief," said Hansford, "although it may involve sad consequences to me. I need only say, that I have felt the oppressions of the government, under which the colony is groaning; I have witnessed the duplicity and perfidy of Sir William Berkeley, and I have determined with the arm and heart of a man, to maintain the rights of a man."

"What oppressions, what perfidy, what rights, do you mean?" said Virginia, turning pale with apprehension.

"You can scarcely understand those questions dearest. But do you not know that the temporizing policy, the criminal delay of Berkeley, has already made the blood of Englishmen flow by the hand of savages. Even the agony which you this morning suffered, is due to the indirect encouragement given to the Indians by his fatal indulgence."

"And you have proved false to your country," cried Virginia. "Oh!

Hansford, for the sake of your honour, for the sake of your love, unsay the word which stains your soul with treason."

"Nay, my own Virginia, understand me. I may be a rebel to my king. I may almost sacrifice my love, but I am true, ever true to my country. The day has pa.s.sed, Virginia, when that word was so restricted in its meaning as to be confounded with the erring mortal, who should be its minister and not its tyrant. The blood of Charles the First has mingled with the blood of those brave martyrs who perished for liberty, and has thus cemented the true union between a prince and his people. It has given to the world, that useful lesson, that the sovereign is invested with his power, to protect, and not to destroy the rights of his people; that freemen may be restrained by wholesome laws, but that they are freemen still. That lesson, Sir William Berkeley must yet be taught. The patriot who dares to teach him, is at last, the truest lover of his country."

"I scarcely know what you say," said the young girl, weeping, "but tell me, oh, tell me, have you joined your fortunes with a rebel?"

"If thus you choose to term him who loves freedom better than chains, who would rather sacrifice life itself than to drag out a weary existence beneath the galling yoke of oppression, I have. I know you blame me. I know you hate me now," he added, in a sad voice, "but while it was my duty, as a freeman and a patriot, to act thus, it was also my duty, as an honourable man, to tell you all. You remember the last lines of our favourite song,

"I had not loved thee dear, so much, Loved I not honour more."

"Alas! I remember the words but too well," replied Virginia, sadly, "but I had been taught that the honour there spoken of, was loyalty to a king, not treason. Oh, Hansford, forgive me, but how can I, reared as I have been, with such a father, how can I"-she hesitated, unable to complete the fatal sentence.

"I understand you," said Hansford. "But one thing then remains undone.

The proscribed rebel must be an outlaw to Virginia Temple's heart. The trial is a sore one, but even this sacrifice can I make to my beloved country. Thus then I give you back your troth. Take it-take it," he cried, and with one hand covering his eyes, he seemed with the other to tear from his heart some treasured jewel that refused to yield its place.

The violence of his manner, even more than the fatal words he had spoken, alarmed Virginia, and with a wild scream, that rang through the old hall, she threw herself fainting upon his neck. The noise reached the ears of the party, who remained above stairs, and Colonel Temple, his wife, and Bernard, threw open the door and stood for a moment silent spectators of the solemn scene. There stood Hansford, his eye lit up with excitement, his face white as ashes, and his strong arm supporting the trembling form of the young girl, while with his other hand he was chafing her white temples, and smoothing back the long golden tresses that had fallen dishevelled over her face.