The Land of Bondage: A RomanceBloundelle-Burton, John
History
The Land of Bondage: A Romance
Bloundelle-Burton, John
Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Virginia -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
As Anuza strode into the tent, or Wigwam, leaving the old man outside
in the sun, he made a grave salutation to us all; but it seemed
directed to me more especially, and then he said:
"Peace be with you all. And, white maiden," he went on, addressing me,
while to my surprise he bent his knee before me, "though death awaits
you and yours to-day, yet it shall not claim you while the Bear is by.
Nor, had I known that which he, my father, has told me, should the
hand of Anuza have been raised against you or your house, or aught
within it." While, as he spoke, I gazed wonderingly at him, not
knowing what his words might mean.
CHAPTER XXIII
DENOUNCED
Yet the explanation or meaning, when it came, was simple indeed. Many
years before, nay, more than fifty, when my grandfather, Mark
Bampfyld, owned and ruled at Pomfret Manor, his wife strolling in the
woods had met and succoured a wounded Indian who had been shot at by
some other colonist and had dragged himself to where she found him.
Now, at that time the Indian was hated in all Virginia more, perhaps,
than he had ever been before or since, for the memory of how he and
his had been our firm allies was still fresh in all men's memories, so
that their new enmity to us was even more bitterly felt than at any
other period. To succour an Indian, therefore, at this period, was to
do a thing almost incredible, a thing not to be believed of one
colonist by another, and, by the Indian himself, to be regarded as
something that could never by any chance occur. Yet this thing my
grandmother, Rebecca, had done; she had tended and nursed that
savage, who was none other than the father of Anuza now without our
tent--himself, also Anuza the Bear--she had sent him forth a well man
to return to his own people, and, ere going, he had vowed to her,
placing his fingers on the scars of his wounds to give his vows
emphasis, that none of his blood or race should ever again injure
those of hers.
Yet now was I--who had never heard aught of this before--a captive in
his son's hands.
"But, oh! white maiden," said Anuza the younger, while the old,
sightless man nodded his head gravely, "had I known aught of this, I
would have smitten off my hands or slain myself ere harm should have
come to you or yours; yea, even before a tree on your lands should
have been hurt or so much as a dog injured. And neither you nor these
others are captives to me longer, though I doubt if, even now,
Senamee, who is chief over us all, will let you go in peace. For he is
as the puma who has the lamb within its jaws when an enemy is in his
hands, and he hearkens to the medicine man, who your sister says is
but a cheat, and who hates you all."
"But," said Mr. Kinchella and Mary together, "that cheat can be
exposed; surely if he is proved no medicine man but only a poor
trickster, the chief will not hearken to him."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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