The doors and lower windows had been barricaded, and the three men, armed to the teeth, stood ready in the hall for the impending attack. Virginia and her mother were there, the former pale as ashes, but suppressing her emotions with a violent effort in order to contribute to her mother's comfort. In fact, the old lady, notwithstanding her boast of bravery on the evening before, stood in need of all the consolation that her daughter could impart. She vented her feelings in screams as loud as those of the Indians she feared, and refused to be comforted. Virginia, forgetful of her own equal danger, leant tenderly over her mother, who had thrown herself upon a sofa, and whispered those sweet words of consolation, which religion can alone suggest in the hour of our trial: “Mother, dear mother,” she said, “remember that although earthly strength should fail, we are yet in the hands of One who is mighty.” “Well, and what if we are,” cried her mother, whose faith was like that of the old lady, who, when the horses ran away with her carriage, trusted in Providence till the breeching broke. “Well, and what if we are, if in a few minutes our scalps may be taken by these horrible savages?” “But, dear mother, He has promised—” “Oh, I don't know whether he has or not—but as sure as fate there they come,” and the old lady relapsed into her hysterics. “Mother, mother, remember your duty as a Christian—remember in whom you have put your trust,” said Virginia, earnestly. “Oh, yes, that's the way. Of course I know nothing of my duty, and I don't pretend to be as good as others. I am nothing but a poor, weak old woman, and must be reminded of my duty by my daughter, although I was a Christian long before she was born. But, for my part, I think it's tempting Providence to bear such a judgment with so much indifference.” “But, Bessy,” interposed the Colonel, seeing Virginia was silent under this unusual kind of argument, “your agitation will only make the matter worse. If you give way thus, we cannot be as ready and cool in action as we should. Come now, dear Bessy, calm yourself.” “Oh, yes, it's well to say that, after bringing me all the way into this wild country, to be devoured by these wild Indians. Oh, that I should ever have consented to leave my quiet home in dear old England for this! And all because a protector reigned instead of a king. Protector, forsooth; I would rather have a hundred protectors at this moment than one king.” “Father,” said Virginia, in a tremulous voice, “had we not better retire to some other part of the house? We can only incommode you here.” “Right, my girl,” said her father. “Take your mother up stairs into your room, and try and compose her.” “Take me, indeed,” said his worthy spouse. “Colonel Temple, you speak as if I was a baby, to be carried about as you choose. I assure you, I will not budge a foot from you.”