A loud clash of steel, a roar of many voices, a whirlwind seemingly, and Vytal stood facing them in the doorway. Like a flash Frazer drew his rapier, but too late. The soldier, infuriated beyond control, thrust deep and deep again. Frazer fell. Vytal turned to Eleanor. “Come away, quick, by the rear entrance. Manteo and Rouse have overcome his guard.” The wounded man groaned pitifully. “I pray you send me a priest,” he pleaded. “There is yet time for a short shrift. Your heretic parson will do an there’s none other.” “I have no messenger at hand,” said Vytal, “and cannot go myself.” At this moment, however, a slight dusky figure stood in the doorway, to which Frazer motioned feebly. It was Dark Eye. “Send him,” said Eleanor, mercifully. “Nay, for he must guard Frazer.” “But the man is dying.” “Nevertheless,” said Vytal, bitterly, “he is not yet dead.” “Then let Dark Eye bind his arms, though it seems cruel.” Vytal assented, and in a moment the captive lay bound hand and foot with thongs of hide from the Indian’s girdle. Virginia came to her mother. “I will go with Dark Eye.” Eleanor rested a hand on her daughter’s head, and turned to Vytal. “Is it safe?” “Yes, with him.” Together Virginia Dare and Dark Eye left the room, only hesitating for a moment beyond the threshold to turn and wave farewell. “Have no fear,” said Manteo’s son. “The Winginas are put to flight; the Spaniards have left the town. Later we meet you on the shore.” The cresset flared high; its radiance fell across those two slight figures side by side in the near darkness. The old world and the new had plighted troth, and here were the symbols of an everlasting union. In another instant the picture had vanished—White Doe and Dark Eye were hidden in the forest. “Now come,” said Vytal to Eleanor, and together they left the cabin. “We have won,” he declared; “yet lost completely.” She glanced up at him with renewed apprehension, questioningly. In silence he led her to the shore. “See,” he said, and she looked up to the headland. A sheet of flame sprang heavenward from the town. “And look!” Two shadows were receding slowly southward. “Those are the enemy’s vessels.” “Then we are exiles once again.” The soldier inclined his head. “Yes, exiles. England will never know of our existence; history will account us futile in all our endeavors, and inexplicably lost.” His voice sank lower. “Five Englishmen remain alive besides myself.” A cry escaped her lips. “’Tis impossible!” “Nay, ’tis true.” “But why, then, do the Spaniards beat a retreat?” “Because Manteo’s force, though fatally delayed by Hugh’s encounter with St. Magil, arrived in time to surprise them, and because Frazer kept his guard apart from the main attack.”