“Oh, not far from here. The red devil was a friend at the hall here, too, or as much so as their bloody hearts will let any of them be. Colonel Temple, there, knows him, and I have seen him when I lived in Gloucester. A fine looking fellow, too; and if his skin and his heart had been both white, there would have been few better and braver dare-devils than young Manteo.” As he pronounced the name, a wild shriek rent the air, and the distracted Mamalis rushed into the porch. Her long hair was all dishevelled and flying loosely over her shoulders, her eye was that of a maniac in his fury, and tossing her bare arms aloft, she shrieked, in a wild, harsh voice, “And who are you, that dare to spill the blood of kings? Look to it that your own flows not less freely in your veins.” Berkenhead turned pale with fright, and shrinking from the enraged girl, muttered, “the devil!”—while Temple, in a low voice, whispered to the Governor the necessary explanation, “She is his sister.” “Yes, his sister!” cried the girl, wildly, for she had overheard the words. “His only sister!—and my blood now flows in no veins but my own. But the stream runs more fiercely as the channel is more narrow. Look to it—look to it!” And, with another wild shriek, the maddened girl rushed again into the house. It required all the tender care of Virginia Temple to pacify the poor creature. She reasoned, she prayed, she endeavoured to console her; but her reasons, her prayers, her sweet words of consolation, were all lost upon the heart of the Indian maiden, who nourished but one fearful, fatal idea—revenge! FOOTNOTES: [40] This was indeed true, and renders the conduct of Berkeley entirely inexplicable. [41] The name given to the tree on which Judas hanged himself. CHAPTER XXVIII. “His flight was madness.” _Macbeth._ Yes, Virginia! She who had so much reason for consolation herself, forgot her own sorrows for the time, in administering the oil of consolation to the poor, wounded, broken-hearted savage girl. She had been sitting at the window of the little parlour, where she could witness the whole scene, and hear the whole interview between the Governor and Hansford; and oh! how her heart had sunk within her as she heard the harsh sentence of the stern old knight, which condemned her noble, friendless lover to imprisonment, perhaps to death; and yet, a maiden modesty restrained her from yielding to the impulse of the moment, to throw herself at the feet of Berkeley, confess her love, and implore his pardon. Alas! ill-fated maiden, it would have been in vain—as she too truly, too fatally discovered afterwards.