For two years Pocahontas had kept sweet the ingle-nook at Varina for
her husband. Then she was crowned with the diadem of motherhood. A
baby boy came to weld into an indissoluble bond their loving hearts.
When night stole over the plantation and the tallow candles were lit
in the sconces Rolfe would sit by the fire puffing clouds of smoke
from a curiously carved pipe presented by Nantaquas, and plan for
the education of the little son lying asleep in the cradle which
Pocahontas kept in motion with her foot while she sewed on tiny baby
garments.
“Lily, we will take him to England and place him at Cambridge. There
he will grow into a famous man, and by and by take a wife as his
father did before him.”
With a jealous movement she bent over the sleeping babe, as if to
protect him from unknown dangers.
“Nay, John, Pocahontas will not give her son to any maiden. He is her
own, and she will not let him go from her across the seas.”
“Ah, Lily, you are like all mothers, jealous of every maiden as
soon as a son is born to her,” he laughingly replied. “I would not
separate you from our boy, he needs his mother too much. Whenever he
goes, you shall accompany him. Your kindness to the colonists, when
they were in suffering, has long ago reached England. All London
rings with your fame and they long to see you. Wealth has come to me
through my tobacco plantation, and my darling shall have rich robes
of gorgeous hues to enhance her loveliness and vie with the jewels
glistening in her hair.”
Then a slender form, gowned in sober gray, with smooth bands of light
hair under a plain cap, flitted before his vision. With a frown of
impatience he quickly banished the unwelcome vision.
The words spoken half in jest, half in earnest by Rolfe, came true.
One day he came running into the cabin waving a letter in his hand.
“Lily, I have just received this letter commanding me to bring the
Lady Rebecca”—bowing low to her as he spoke—“to England, along with
her attendants. She is to be presented at court under the chaperonage
of Lady De La Warre, and will be the guest of the London Company.
What has my lady to say to her humble husband concerning her
preparations for departure?”
“The will of John is the will of Pocahontas,” answered the obedient
wife.
“Then, sweet one, we must make all haste possible, as we travel with
Governor Dale a week hence. The plantation must be left in charge of
my man Hunter, and we will get Mistress Laydon to come over now and
then to look after your goods and chattels so that your housewifely
heart may be at rest. I shall be glad to see old England again, and
proud to show my darling to my relations over there.”
Busy was the week that followed, both for Rolfe and Pocahontas; he
making arrangements for a long absence and she putting in order the
dearly loved home.
All Jamestown was agog with the news of Pocahontas’s presentation at
court. A halo of new interest surrounded her.
Riding home from the fields late one evening, Rolfe saw Adam
Clotworthy leaning against the gate.
“Ha, Adam; I am right glad to see you. Have you come to take a look
at the boy?”
“Yes, Master Rolfe, and I find that it is harder to part with him
than I thought. You know he has been dear to me ever since his
birth. I feel as if I owned some part of him, seeing that madam, his
mother, was so gracious as to choose me for her god-father. I came to
ask if you would not take me to England as your serving-man, and a
sort of under-nurse to the boy.”
“Well, Adam, I will take you. Your devotion to the boy weighs heavily
in your favor.”
“Thank you, Master Rolfe, you will never have cause to repent of your
kindness as long as the boy is above ground.”