CHAPTER XIII.
After the battle and destruction of Jamestown, Sir William Berkley,accompanied by his now liberated Lady and his remaining followers,comprising the still loyal marine force, retired again to the shades ofAccomac, where we will leave him and the remaining events of his life inthe hands of the historian.
The political power of the colony was now in the possession of thevictorious chief, so lately condemned to death. He was not long insurrendering it to a convention of the people, summoned to meet atMiddle Plantations, (Williamsburg,) for that purpose, and in their handswe will leave the political affairs of the future mother of states. Ouronly remaining duty is to follow the fortunes of the principalcharacters of our narrative. The successful general, after attending tohis military and political duties, accompanied his now betrothed bridefrom the ruins of Jamestown to the new seat of government. It was adelightful summer evening--the sun was just sinking beneath a horizon,where the darker blue of the distant landscape softened the shades ofthe azure sky, both merging in the indistinct prospect so as to form amagnificent back ground to a panorama, bathed in a flood of goldenlight. The youthful and happy pair instinctively reined up their horses,and gazed upon the enchanting scene, until their hearts were full oflove and adoration.
Then by one impulse they turned their horses' heads, and gazed upon onefar different, which they were leaving. The ruins of the first civilizedsettlement in North America were still sending up volumes of smoke,through which at intervals gleamed a lurid flash, as some morecombustible materials fell into the mass of living embers below. Butthere were associations with this scene, to the hearts of our pilgrims,which no tongue or pen can describe; the melancholy treasures of memorycollected through long forgotten years, came gushing back over theirhearts in a resistless torrent. The scenes of their childhood--of alltheir romantic dreams, and those fairy and too unreal creations of younglife--the graves of their relations and friends, were about to besurrendered up to the dominion of the thistle and the ivy, there tomoulder through all future generations.[14] But this was not all thatwas saddening in the view before them. The Indian captives, some twohundred in number, were ascending the heights to the very spot whichthey occupied, on their way to the far west. Poor and friendless beingsthey were! their worldly store they wore upon their backs, consistingfor the most part of worn out leather garments, and a few worthlessbaubles carried in their wallets. They skirted along the brow of thehill in Indian file--their steps slow and melancholy. They too wereabout to leave the scenes of their long sojourn, the broad and fertilelands which they had inherited from the beginning of time--the honouredrelics of their dead, and all the loved associations which cling to theheart of the rudest of mankind, when about to leave for ever the shadesof home. They were just entering upon the wearisome pilgrimage of theexile, under a combination of the most cruel and unfortunatecircumstances, and in a condition the worst calculated to subdue newcountries, and battle with hostile tribes. As they passed in reviewbefore the youthful pair of another race, no sign of recognitionmanifested itself. They moved along with the gravity and solemnity of afuneral procession, until the last of the line stood before them. It wasWyanokee! She paused--attempted to pass on like her predecessors, buther feet refused to bear her from the spot, and turning to them shecried as if the words had burst irresistibly from her heart, "Oh crueland treacherous is the white man! See you those braves, going down thepath of yonder hill? So they have been going ever since Powhatan madethe first peace with your race. May the Great Spirit who dwells beyondthe clouds, shower mercies upon you both, equal to the wrongs whichyour people have visited upon ours." And having thus spoken she brokeaway, and ran swiftly down the hill in pursuit of her countrymen. Shesaw that Virginia was struggling with her emotions to speak, and sherushed away lest she should again be compelled to listen to a subjectwhich was disagreeable to her. Virginia, before her own departure, hadexhausted her persuasive powers in the vain effort to induce her toremain. A hope had till now lingered in her heart, that Wyanokee wouldfollow her to Middle Plantations, and once more take up her abode in herhouse, but when she saw the last traces of her receding figure throughthe shadowy gloom of the forest, she knew that she looked upon theIndian maiden for the last time on earth.
[Footnote 14: The ivy capped ruins of the old church are all that remainto this day of the ancient city. We trust that no irreverent hands willever be laid upon that venerable pile; but that it may be suffered tostand in its own melancholy grandeur, as long as its materials may clingtogether.]
With swimming eyes the lovers pursued their way across the narrowpeninsula. Virginia sobbed aloud, until she had given vent to herovercharged heart. But an easy and gentle palfrey, and a devoted andobsequious lover, do not often fail to revive a lady's spirits,especially through such scenes as she now beheld, bathed as they were inthe mellow glories of a summer twilight. "Hope told a flattering tale,"and our hero and heroine would have been more or less than mortal, andwise beyond their years, had they not listened to it. Their laughter wasnot loud and joyous, it is true, they were far too happy for that; theirframes trembled with the exquisite pleasure which words warm from andto the heart produced. Sometimes they were silent indeed, but not forwant of thoughts to interchange. Words had exhausted their power.
They had not proceeded many miles on their way, and the sun still hungas it were suspended beyond the purple glories of the horizon, whenBacon pointed with his riding whip to an object before them whichquickly changed the current of his companion's thoughts. Like humanlife, their short journey seemed destined to exhibit many dark andgloomy shadows. It was the Recluse; he was leaning against a tree,apparently waiting their approach, for as they rode up, he stepped outinto the highway and saluted them. Virginia trembled upon her saddlewith very different sensations from those to which we have just alluded,but her lover hastily unfolded to her his name and former delusion."This, my young friends," said the Recluse, "is our last meeting onearth--and I have sought it that I might bless you both, before mydeparture from the land in which I have so long been a sojourner and anexile from the haunts of men."
"Whither are you going?" asked Bacon in astonishment. "You certainlywill not leave us, now that the very time has arrived when you may dwellhere in safety. I had even calculated upon having you as an inmate at myhouse."
"It cannot be," replied the Recluse. "My destiny calls me to a place farnorth of this, where some of my old comrades and now fellow sufferers,dwell in comparative peace and security. But it is only detaining youafter night fall, to multiply words. May God of his infinite mercy blessand preserve you both," and thus speaking he also departed, and was seenno more.[15]
[Footnote 15: Our authority for assuming that one of the Regicidessecluded himself for a time near Jamestown, may be found in Stiles'Judges, Chapter VI.]
* * * * *
On a certain evening, not very long after the one just spoken of,General Bacon was married to Miss Virginia Fairfax, and at the same timeand place Charles Dudley, Esq. led to the altar Miss Harriet Harrison.
After this happy announcement, it becomes our painful duty to cast amelancholy blemish upon the character of one who has figured in ournarrative. On the two several occasions, namely, of his release fromcaptivity by the storming and capture of Jamestown, and his master'smarriage, Brian O'Reily was found hopelessly, helplessly drunk; oraccording to his own explanation, in that state in which a man feelsupward for the earth.
THE END.
ADDENDA.
Should the author's humble labours continue to amuse his countrymen, hewill very soon lay before them "The Tramontane Order; or the Knights ofthe Golden Horseshoe;"--an order of Knighthood in the Old Dominion,which first planted the British standard beyond the Blue Mountains.
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