“The fact is, gentlemen,” she said, “that while you all displayed great coolness and resolution, it was well that you were not surrounded by timid women to embarrass you with their fears. I was determined that none of you should see my alarm, and I have no doubt you were surprised at my calmness.” “It was very natural for ladies to feel alarm,” said Hansford, scarcely able to repress the rising smile, “under circumstances, which inspired even strong men with fear. I only wonder that you bore it so well.” “Ah, it is easy to see you are apologizing for Virginia, and I must confess that once or twice she did almost shake my self-possession a little by her agitation. But poor thing! we should make allowance for her. She is unaccustomed to such scenes. I, who was, you may say, cradled in a revolution, and brought up in civil war, am not so easily frightened.” “No, indeed, Bessy,” said old Temple, smiling good humouredly, “so entirely were you free from the prevailing fears, that I believe you were unconscious half the time of what was going on.” “Well, really, Colonel Temple,” said the old lady, bristling up at this insinuation, “I think it ill becomes you to be exposing me as a jest before an entire stranger. However, it makes but little difference. It won't last always.” This prediction of his good wife, that “It,” which always referred to her husband's conduct immediately before, was doomed like all other earthly things to terminate, was generally a precursor to hysterics. And so she shook her head and patted her foot hysterically, while the Colonel wholly unconscious of any reasonable cause for the offence he had given, rolled up his eyes and shrugged his shoulders in silence. Leaving the good couple to settle at their leisure those little disputes which never lasted on an average more than five minutes, let us follow Virginia as she goes down stairs to make some preparation for dinner. As she passed through the hall on her way to the store-room, she saw the graceful form of Mamalis just leaving the house. In the conversation which ensued we must beg the reader to imagine the broken English in which the young Indian expressed herself, while we endeavor to give it a free and more polite translation. “Mamalis, you are not going home already, are you,” said Virginia, in a gentle voice. “Yes,” replied the girl, with a sigh. “Why do you sigh, Mamalis? Are you unhappy, my poor girl?” “It is very sad to be alone in my poor wigwam,” she replied. “Then stay with us, Manteo is away, and will probably not be back for some days.” “He would be angry if he came home and found me away.” “Oh, my poor girl,” said Virginia, taking her tenderly by the hand, “I wish you could stay with me, and let me teach you as I used to about God and heaven. Oh, think of these things, Mamalis, and they will make you happy even when alone. Wouldn't you like to have a friend always near you when Manteo is away?” “Oh yes,” said the girl earnestly.