As they passed in review before the youthful pair of another race, no sign of recognition manifested itself. They moved along with the gravity and solemnity of a funeral procession, until the last of the line stood before them. It was Wyanokee! She paused--attempted to pass on like her predecessors, but her feet refused to bear her from the spot, and turning to them she cried as if the words had burst irresistibly from her heart, "Oh cruel and treacherous is the white man! See you those braves, going down the path of yonder hill? So they have been going ever since Powhatan made the first peace with your race. May the Great Spirit who dwells beyond the clouds, shower mercies upon you both, equal to the wrongs which your people have visited upon ours." And having thus spoken she broke away, and ran swiftly down the hill in pursuit of her countrymen. She saw that Virginia was struggling with her emotions to speak, and she rushed away lest she should again be compelled to listen to a subject which was disagreeable to her. Virginia, before her own departure, had exhausted her persuasive powers in the vain effort to induce her to remain. A hope had till now lingered in her heart, that Wyanokee would follow her to Middle Plantations, and once more take up her abode in her house, but when she saw the last traces of her receding figure through the shadowy gloom of the forest, she knew that she looked upon the Indian maiden for the last time on earth. [Footnote 14: The ivy capped ruins of the old church are all that remain to this day of the ancient city. We trust that no irreverent hands will ever be laid upon that venerable pile; but that it may be suffered to stand in its own melancholy grandeur, as long as its materials may cling together.] With swimming eyes the lovers pursued their way across the narrow peninsula. Virginia sobbed aloud, until she had given vent to her overcharged heart. But an easy and gentle palfrey, and a devoted and obsequious lover, do not often fail to revive a lady's spirits, especially through such scenes as she now beheld, bathed as they were in the mellow glories of a summer twilight. "Hope told a flattering tale," and our hero and heroine would have been more or less than mortal, and wise beyond their years, had they not listened to it. Their laughter was not loud and joyous, it is true, they were far too happy for that; their frames trembled with the exquisite pleasure which words warm from and to the heart produced. Sometimes they were silent indeed, but not for want of thoughts to interchange. Words had exhausted their power.