“Hark to a motion of eternal league.”
—MARLOWE, in _Dido, Queen of Carthage_.
In a week the English settlement had assumed an aspect that hinted at
permanent residence on the island of Croatan. The Indian town, with a
population of over one hundred, still offered shelter to the new-comers,
though a number of houses, after the white man’s fashion of building,
were already nearing completion. The village, girdled by trees, occupied
a wide and natural opening. The sites of houses had been chosen with a
certain regularity and crude symmetry as to position, which gave the
paths an almost street-like appearance. The dwellings themselves were
varied according to the tastes of their builders and the advantages of
their surroundings, some walled by strips of bark staked to the ground
and fastened together by thongs of hide; others, more pretentious, being
strengthened by numerous upright poles placed side by side in double
lines and bent over at the top, where they formed arched and lofty roofs.
The interior of the house which belonged to Manteo and his mother was
surprisingly spacious, measuring almost twenty yards in length, and in
width as many feet.
One summer morning a child stood wonderingly before the threshold of this
dwelling, regarding in silence another child in the doorway. The first
was Virginia, the second Manteo’s son, a dark, supple boy, whose unclad
body shone like bronze in the sunlight. Between the two, momentarily,
there was silence, each regarding the other with curious and bashful
eyes; until at last Virginia, stepping eagerly forward to the Indian lad,
held out her hand. For a minute he looked down at the delicate fingers
and little palm with a bewildered expression, as though at an object
clearly demanding his attention, but in no way understood. Not a smile
crossed his dark face; the perplexity was very sober, and the belief
that she desired some gift embarrassed him, for what had he to give? But
suddenly, as if with an intuitive impulse, he offered that which alone
seemed available—his hand. At this she laughed, and, turning her head,
now this way, now that, inspected the dusky present like a young bird and
held it fast.
“The White Doe,” said Manteo, who stood near by with Vytal, “shall be as
a bond between our peoples.”