“O the long and dreary winter!
O the cold and cruel winter!
Ever thicker, thicker, thicker
Froze the ice on lake and river,
Ever deeper, deeper, deeper
Fell the snow o’er all the landscape.”
LONGFELLOW.
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.