The martial sounds of drums and trumpets had scarcely died away over the distant hills, when Sir William Berkley despatched couriers to the various military outposts of the colony, peremptorily ordering the commanders to march forthwith to Jamestown with the forces under their command. To these couriers also were given secret instructions for the private ears of such of his loyal friends among the Cavaliers living on their routes, as he knew would adhere to him under any circumstances, urgently soliciting their immediate presence at the capital. After these were despatched, he summoned a secret conclave of such friends, equally worthy of his trust, as were yet to be found in the city.

Thus were they engaged, as General Bacon, habited in the rich military fashion of the day, rode along the north western skirt of the city, his own gay attire, and the splendid trappings of his horse wretchedly mocking the desolation within. He drew up at the back court of the Berkley Arms, dismounted, and passed immediately into a private room. Having despatched a servant for the landlord, he employed the time before he made his appearance, in meditations upon the singular and protracted absence of Brian O'Reily, the new responsibilities which he had just assumed, and the present condition and future destinies of the fair invalid at the gubernatorial mansion.

When the landlord entered he quickly demanded if Doctor Roland had inquired for him during the forenoon, and was answered that he had not. A servant was despatched with a note to the Doctor repeating his request for an interview of five minutes at the Arms. After he had waited some time in the most intense impatience, the servant returned with a verbal message stating that the doctor would wait on Gen. Bacon immediately.

"From whom did you obtain this answer?"

"From the porter at the door, sir."

"Very well, you may retire!"

As he sat impatiently listening for the heavy footsteps of the doctor, he heard a light fairy foot tripping up the stairs, toward his room, and in the next instant a gentle tap at the door. His heart almost leaped to his mouth as he indistinctly bade the applicant to come in. "Can it be possible," said he to himself, "that Virginia has escaped from her jailers? Was the story of her illness but an invention of the Governor's?"

Before he had answered these questions to his own satisfaction, the door was suddenly thrust backward and Harriet Harrison stood before him.

She was pale, agitated, and gasping for breath, as she threw herself unasked into a seat. Bacon was from his previous emotions scarcely more composed, and his heart beat tumultuously against his doublet, as he endeavoured vainly to offer the courtesies due to her sex and standing.

"Oh, Mr. Bacon!" (gasped the agitated girl) "fly for your life."

"On what account, my dear young lady?"

"I'll tell you as quick as I can. I had just obtained admission to-day to Virginia's room for the first time, when, after having spent the time, and more, allotted to me by the doctor, as I was coming down the stairs I had to pass the door of Sir William's library, and I accidentally overheard him giving orders to an officer to collect some soldiers from the barracks and make you a prisoner in this house. How he knew you were here I know not; but I was no sooner out of the door than I flew to the back court below, demanded of the servant holding your horse to point out your room, and rushed in in this strange manner to put you on your guard. Now, fly for your life – you have not a moment to lose!"

"One word of Virginia, your fair friend, and I am gone. Will she survive? Is her reason unsettled? Does she believe the strange story of the Recluse?"

"In a word then, she is better – of sound mind, and in her heart does not believe one word of that story, though sober reason is strangely perplexed."

"One word more, and I have done. Does she inquire for me?"

"The very first word she said to me was, 'Does Nathaniel believe it?' Now go, while yet you may. Should any new emergency arise in your absence I will despatch a courier after you."

"Yet one message to Virginia. Tell her that I have accidentally discovered in the trinket preserved by her father, and worn by me in the days of my infancy, the likeness of her whom I have every reason to believe my mother. Tell her not to hope too sanguinely, but to give that circumstance its weight, and trust to the developments of time; and now I commit you both, my dearest friends, to the protection of an overruling Providence; farewell."

With these parting words he rushed down stairs, mounted his fleet charger, and swiftly left the court just as the Governor's emissaries entered the front porch of the house to arrest him.

Harriet drew her veil closely over her face, and almost as fleetly sought her father's dwelling.

Our hero in a very few minutes placed the river which separates the island from the main land between him and his pursuers. The sun was yet above the western horizon, and the clouds which spread in fleecy and stationary masses, were tinted with the softest hues of the violet and the rose, filling the mind with pleasing images of repose, cheerfulness, and hope. These soothing and delightful influences of the summer evening were in a great measure lost however upon our hero as he pursued his solitary way through the unbroken forest in the immediate footsteps of the army.

Besides the inevitable suspense attending the developments of his own origin and destiny – there were immediate anticipations before him of no pleasing character. He had just assumed the responsibilities of an office, which at the very outset was attended with the most painful embarrassments. His keen military eye ran over the ground occupied by the enemies of his country, and perceived at once that to make his enterprise completely and permanently successful, the savages must be driven entirely from the peninsula.

The very first on the list of these nations was the Chickahominy, at the head of which was the youthful queen, who had so lately perilled her life and her authority for his own salvation from the tortures of her countrymen. His decisive and energetic mind perceived the stern necessity which existed of driving these melancholy relics of once powerful nations far distant from the haunts of the white man. The question was not now presented to his mind, whether a foreign nation should land upon the shores of these aboriginal possessors. That question had long since been decided. It was now a matter of life or death with the European settlers and their descendants – a question of existence or no existence – permanent peace or continual murders. The whites had tried all the conciliatory measures of which they supposed themselves possessed. Peace after peace had succeeded to the frequent fires and bloodshed of the savages. The calumet had been smoked time after time, and hostage after hostage had been exchanged, yet there was no peace and security for the white man. The right of the aboriginals to the soil was indeed plain and indisputable; yet now that the Europeans were in possession, whether by purchase or conquest, the absolute necessity of offensive warfare against them was equally plain and unquestioned in his mind. These views had been hastily communicated to the council of officers held on the banks of the river, at the commencement of the march, and unanimously concurred in by them. Notwithstanding this unanimity of opinion among his associates in command, the very first duty which presented itself in accordance with these views, harrowed his feelings in the most painful manner. His imagination carried him forward to the succeeding morning, when his followers would in all probability be carrying fire and sword into the heart of the settlement ruled by his preserver. As the refined and feeling surgeon weeps in secret over the necessity of a painful and dangerous operation upon a delicate female friend, yet subdues his feelings and steels his nerves for the approaching trial, so our youthful commander silenced the rising weakness in his heart, and urged his steed still deeper into the forest. He determined to temper and soften stern necessity with humanity.

A few hours' ride brought him up with the baggage and artillery of the army. The sun had already gone down, but a brilliant starlight, and a balmy and serene air revived his drooping spirits, as he swiftly passed these lumbering appendages.

Scarcely had he placed himself at the head of the marching column, and perceived that the flower and chivalry of his command – the mounted Cavaliers, were still in advance of him, before the sharp quick report of their fire-arms was heard at some three quarters of a mile distance in advance. These were quickly succeeded by the savage war-whoop, and in a few moments a bright red column of fire and smoke shot up towards the heavens immediately in front. His spurs were dashed into his charger's flanks, and he flew through the fitfully illuminated forest toward a gently swelling hill from beyond which the light seemed to proceed.

When he had gained this eminence, a sight greeted his eyes which awakened all the tenderest sympathies of his nature. Orapacs, the sole remaining village of the Chickahominies – the scene of his late tortures – as well as his preservation, was wrapped in flames. Ever and anon a terrified or wounded savage came darting through the forest heedless alike of him and of the martial sounds in his rear. He reined up his courser on the summit and sadly viewed the scene.

His commands were no longer necessary for the existing emergency. The deed, for which he had been so laboriously and studiously preparing his mind was done. The royal wigwam, the very scene of his shelter, and of Wyanokee's hospitality, was already enveloped by the devouring element. A few struggling and desperate warriors still kept up the unequal contest, but in a few moments, even the despairing yells of these were hushed in the cold and everlasting silence of death. Painfully and intently he gazed upon the crumbling walls of the once peaceful home of his Indian friend. He could perceive no appearance of the unfortunate queen. His imagination immediately conjured up the image of the heroic maiden, her form bleeding and mutilated as it lay among the last defenders of the land of her fathers. By a singular sophistry of the mind, he consoled himself by the reflection, that the orders had not proceeded from his lips – that his hand had no part in the matter, although he had himself laid down the plan of the campaign, of which the scene before him was the first result. True, he had mentioned no exact time for the accomplishment of this measure, and the ardour of his young companions in arms had outstripped his own intentions; nevertheless, the design was his, however much he might soothe his own feelings by the want of personal participation.

By the time that the infantry and heavy artillery had arrived upon the spot occupied by their General, the village of Orapacs was a heap of smouldering ruins. The scene was again covered with darkness, save when it was illuminated at intervals by a fitful gleam, as some quivering ruin fell tardily among the smouldering embers of the walls which had already fallen. He assumed the command of his troops, and marched them into the plain between the place they then occupied, and the site of the melancholy scene we have described. By his orders also, the trumpets were ordered to command the return of the impetuous Cavaliers. Dudley and his compatriots soon came bounding over the plain, exhilarated with the first flush of success, and not a little surprised at the cold and respectful salutations which greeted them from their commander. Most of them, however, were acquainted with his late sufferings and feeble bodily health, and to this cause they were willing to attribute his present want of euthusiasm.

Bacon had no sooner issued the necessary orders for the night than, taking Dudley by the arm, he walked forth into the forest beyond the sentinels already posted.

"Tell me, Dudley," (said he in a hurried and agitated voice,) "was she slain?"

"Was who slain?"

"The queen of these dominions!"

"No, I believe not. I think she was borne from the scene early in the conflict, by some of her tribe."

"Thank God!" he fervently ejaculated, and then addressing himself to his aid, he continued, "Return, Dudley, to the camp – superintend the execution of the orders I have issued for our security, in person, but follow me not, and suffer no one, either officer or soldier, to approach the ruins. I will return in the course of a couple of hours."

Having thus spoken, he suddenly disappeared through the forest, and his companion returned to the camp.

With slow and melancholy steps our hero approached the late busy and animated scene. The beasts of prey were sending up their savage, but plaintive notes in horrible unison with his own feelings. The cool evening breeze fanned the dying embers, and occasionally loaded the atmosphere with brilliant showers of sparks and flakes of fire. As these rolled over his person and fell dead upon his garments, he folded his arms, and contemplated the ruins of the wigwam in which he had found protection.

"There," said he, "was perhaps the birth-place of a hundred monarchs of these forests. Until civilized man intruded upon these dominions, they were in their own, and nature's way, joyous, prosperous, and happy. They have resided amidst the shades of these venerable trees, perhaps since time began! The very waters of the stream bubbling joyously over yonder pebbles, have borrowed their name. Where are they all now? The last male youth of their kingly line was slain by these hands, and the last habitations of his race fired and plundered by soldiers owing obedience to my commands. The plough and the harrow will soon break down alike their hearth-stones and the scene of their council fires. Yea, and the very monuments of their dead must be levelled to meet the ever craving demands of civilized existence. But pshaw! is this the preparation to steel a soldier's heart, and fire it with military ardour and enthusiasm? Let me rather ponder upon my own sufferings on this spot. Let me remember the groans of dying old men, women, and children, which rent the air twelve hours since. And above all, let me bear in mind the despairing shrieks of her, who was more than a mother to me, of her who clothed and fed and protected me in infancy. Where is she now?"

"She is alive and well!" answered a feeble and plaintive voice from the wild flowers and shrubbery which grew upon an earthen monument erected to the savage dead.

"Who is it that speaks?"

"One that had better have slept with those who sleep beneath!"

"Wyanokee?"

"Ay, who is left but Wyanokee and these mouldering bones beneath, of all the proud race that once trod these plains unchallenged, and free as the water that bubbles at your feet."

He approached the rude monument as she spoke. It consisted of a grass-grown mount some thirty feet in length, by ten in height and breadth, and was surmounted by thick clustering briers and wild flowers. The youthful queen was sitting upon the margin of the tumulus, her head resting upon her hand, and it in its turn supported on her knee. As the officer approached, she stood erect upon the mount. Her person was clad and ornamented much as when he had last seen her, except that above one shoulder protruded a richly carved unstrung bow, and from the other, a quiver of feather-tipped arrows crossing the bow near her waist. The soldier replied, —

"It is almost useless for me to profess now, how wholly, how profoundly, I sympathize with you in witnessing this scene of desolation. Naught but the dictates of inevitable necessity could have induced the army under my command to perpetrate this melancholy devastation. But I trust that the soothing influences of time, your own good sense, and the ministrations of your kind white friends, will reconcile you to these stern decrees of fate."

"Kind indeed is the white man's sympathy – very kind. He applies the torch to the wigwam of his red friend, shoots at his women and children as they run from the destruction within, and then he weeps over the ruins which his own hands have made."

"It is even so, Wyanokee. I do not expect you to understand or appreciate my feelings upon the instant; but when you are once again peacefully settled at Jamestown with your sorrowing young friend, and will cast your eyes over this vast and fertile country, and see to what little ends its resources are wasted, and on the other hand, what countless multitudes are driven hither by the crowded state of other parts of the world, you will begin to see the necessity which is driving your red brethren to the far west. You can then form some conception of the now unseen power behind, which is urging them forward. You will see the great comprehension and sublime spectacle of God's political economy! you will see it in its beauty and its justice. You feel the partial and limited effects of these swelling waves of the great creation now upon yourself and your nation. I grant they are hard to be borne, but once place yourself above these personal considerations, and compare the demands of a world with the handful of warriors lying dead around those ruins, and you will bow to the justice of the decree which has gone forth against your people!"

"Does your Great Spirit then only care for the good of his white children? You taught me to believe that he too created the red men, and placed them upon these hunting grounds, that he cared as much for them as he did for their white brethren – but now it seems he is angry with the poor red man, because he lives and hunts as he was taught, by the Great Spirit himself. These hunting grounds are now wanted for his other children, and those to whom he first gave them, must not only yield them up, but they must be driven by the fire and the thunder, and the long knives of those who have been professing themselves our brethren."

"Your view of the case is a very natural and plausible one, yet it seems to me you have overlooked that point in it, upon which the whole matter turns. Let us for one moment grant the necessity of making room on your hunting grounds for your white brethren, who are crowded out of the older countries. There seemed at first no need to disturb the red men, there was room enough here for all, we were content to live upon this kind and neighbourly footing. Had your brethren been equally content, the great purposes of the Creator would have been answered without any destruction of his red or white children. Have the red men so demeaned themselves toward the whites that we could all dwell here together? Let the massacre of last night speak! You point to yonder smouldering ruins and bloody corpses. I point to the bleeding bodies of my countrymen and friends, and their demolished dwellings as the cause – the direct cause of the desolation you behold."

"The white man talks very fast – and very well – he talks for the Great Spirit and himself too; but who talks for the poor red man, but Wyanokee. All you say is very good for the white men upon our hunting grounds, and the white men driven from over the great waters, and for the white men left behind. It leaves room to hunt and plant corn there for the white men, and finds room here to hunt and plant corn, but you do not give the poor red man any hunting ground. You say we must go to the far west, but how long will it be the far west? How many of your white friends are coming over the big waters? How far is this place, where the red man will not be driven from his new hunting ground? If we cannot live and smoke the calumet of peace together, we must have separate hunting grounds. Where are our hunting grounds? Ah, I see your eye reaches where the clouds and the blue mountains come together – to the end of the world, we must go, like those beneath us to the hunting grounds of the Great Spirit."

"Not so, Wyanokee, we would willingly spare the effusion of blood, and when our arms have taught the men who assembled here two days ago, our firm determination always to avenge the murder of our friends and the plunder of their property, it is our intention to propose a fair and permanent peace. We will endeavour to convince them of the necessity of abandoning for ever the country between these two great rivers, and moving their hunting grounds where the interests of the two races cannot come in conflict."

"O yes, you will run the long knives through their bodies, and then smoke the calumet! You will drive us from our homes, and then you will persuade us to give them up to the white man."

"You are not now in a proper mood to reason upon this subject calmly, my gentle friend, nor do I wonder at it; but the time will come when your views of this matter will be similar to my own."

"No, Wyanokee cannot see through the white man's eyes; she has not yet learned to forget her kindred and her country. She came here to-night to sit upon the graves of the great hunters and warriors who slept here with their calumets and tomahawks beside them, long before the long knives came among us. She will carry away from this place to night, this little flower planted by her own hands over the graves of her fathers and brothers. She would leave it here to spread its flowers over their ancient war paths and their graves, but even these silent and peaceful bones, and these harmless flowers must share the fate of them who buried the one and planted the other. Wyanokee will never see this place more – never again be near the bones of her fathers, until she meets them all at the hunting ground of the Great Spirit. Farewell, home and country and friends, and fare thee well, ungrateful man; when next the Indian maiden steps between thee and the tomahawk of her countrymen repay not her kindness with the torch to her wigwam and the long knife to her heart."

With these bitter words of parting, she descended from the mound with dignity, and disappeared through the forest, notwithstanding the urgent entreaties of Bacon, that she would return. She gave no other evidence of heeding him than turning back the palm of her hand toward him, and leaning her head in the opposite direction, as if she were exorcising an evil spirit. He made no other attempt to stay her progress; once indeed the thought occurred to him to hail the sentinel and arrest her for her own sake, but the idea was as speedily abandoned. He determined to leave her destiny wholly in the hands of him who first decreed it. For a moment he ascended the mount and cast his eye over the wide-spread and melancholy desolation, and then rapidly retraced his steps to the camp. When there, his first orders were to have the slain warriors of the expatriated tribes, buried in the tomb of their forefathers, while his own personal attention was bestowed upon the condition of the prisoners taken during the demolition of the village.

They sat round the tents appropriated to their use, in stern and sullen dignity. Wounded or whole, no sound escaped their lips; and their food and drink remained untouched before them. They noticed the entrance of the commander in chief no more than if he had been an insignificant creeping reptile of the earth; no signs of recognition lighted up their features, though most or all of them must have been present at the scene of his own tortures. While Bacon stood no unmoved spectator of the calm unshaken fortitude with which they bore their misfortunes, an incident occurred that served to exhibit the stern qualities of their pride in still bolder relief. One of the old warriors had been taken while attempting to escape with one of his children, after having fought until there was not a vestige of hope remaining for the preservation of his people and their homes. He was brought into the camp, together with his child. While the prisoners were all sitting round in sullen dignity, and the general of the invading army stood surveying them as we have mentioned, this little child came entreatingly to its father's knees, and begged for the food which stood untouched before his face. He made no verbal reply – a momentary weakness softened his countenance as he gazed into the face of the tender petitioner, but in the next, he raised his tomahawk and sank it deep into the brain of his child before any one could arrest his arm. The innocent and unconscious victim fell without a groan or struggle, and the stern old warrior reinserted the handle of his weapon in his belt, crossed his arms upon his breast, and resumed his former attitude of immobility. Bacon gazed at him in astonishment and horror for an instant, and then wheeled suddenly round to retire from an exhibition of humanity, so rude, ferocious, and appalling. But as he was about to emerge from the portal of the tent, Wyanokee was rudely thrust into the door, and they stood face to face.

His first impulse was to draw his sword, and rush upon the two soldiers who had guarded the prisoner, but a moment's reflection served to remind him that they had but obeyed his own general orders. He returned the half drawn weapon therefore, and stood an embarrassed spectator of the captive maiden's searching glances, as her eyes wandered around the room, first resting upon her unfortunate companions in captivity, next upon the corpse of the slain infant, and lastly upon the commander himself. He had seen her previously when her subdued manners and lady-like deportment, inclined him in communing with her to forget her Indian origin, but he saw her now with all her native impulses roused to their highest tension. Her eye flashed fire as it rested upon him after completing her survey, and she thus addressed him, stepping a few paces backward, while her person was drawn up to its utmost height, and her bosom heaved with struggling emotions.

"Are you the same person who sometime since undertook to inspire noble sentiments into the mind of the purest being that ever honoured a white skin? Are you the same youth who aspired to her hand and renounced it on the marriage night, because of kindred blood? Are you the youth whose fair and deceitful form, and apparently noble nature, once made Wyanokee look with contempt upon this heroic race of warriors? If the form, the person be the same, the Great Spirit of evil has poisoned the fountains of your heart, and turned your goodness and your honour to cruelty and cunning. How far has the great light gone down behind the sea, since you stood upon the ruins of all that Wyanokee loved, and professed sorrow for their destruction, and sympathy in her misfortunes? When you stood before her, and dared not lay your own hands upon her person! – you could leave her untouched upon the grave of her great warriors – you dared not seek to injure her, lest their spirits should return from the happy hunting ground and kill you on the spot. But you could deceitfully order these poor long knives to stand in her path and prevent her from taking the last look, and heaving the last sigh that should ever be looked and uttered in these forests."

"I gave no orders for your arrest, Wyanokee; I have not spoken to the sentinels since I saw you!"

"But you could stand and mourn with Wyanokee over the ashes of her fathers' wigwam, when you had just come from ordering these to carry her into captivity. They told me themselves that they acted by your orders. Oh how cruel, how deceitful is the white man! He gladdens the poor Indian's eyes with his glittering toys, till he cheats him of all the corn laid up for his squaws during the winter. He smokes the calumet with the chiefs, while his own followers are burning down the houses of their nation. You, sir, redeemed Wyanokee from captivity, to carry her into a more galling bondage. You taught her the knowledge of the white man, only that she might multiply her sorrows, when this long foreseen night should come. Was it for this that she redeemed you from the red hot tortures of these chiefs? Did you come upon their hunting ground to learn how to torture in preparation for this occasion, and trusting to Wyanokee's soft and foolish heart for your safe return? Lead them and her to the stake! we will show the white warrior how to endure the tortures of our enemies without fainting like women."

"You will not listen to me, Wyanokee, else I could have told you long ago, that I had given no orders to the sentinels. We do not desire your captivity? you are free to go now whithersoever you choose, provided you keep beyond the range of our sentinels. What our race has done against yours, has only been done to protect their own lives and property, and to make that protection secure and permanent. You know that we never torture prisoners; when the war is ended and peace obtained, these warriors shall go free and unharmed. I see that they have refused to touch their food, under the belief that they are to suffer, but I will leave you to undeceive them, after which you are free to go or to remain. If the latter be your choice, a tent shall be provided for your sole accommodation."

Having thus spoken, he hastily left the tent and sought the marquée occupied by the higher grade of officers and the more aristocratic of the Cavaliers. Gay sounds of song and minstrelsy greeted his ears as he approached the spot – Bacchanalian scraps promiscuously chimed in chorus with more sentimental ditties, and all occasionally drowned in boisterous shouts of laughter. These evidences of the mood in which he should find his associates deterred him from entering, under his present feelings, and he therefore passed on to his own solitary quarters. In a few moments he was extended upon such a bed as a camp affords, with no external source of interruption to his repose, save the distant cries of the wild beasts, and the more monotonous tread of the sentinel, as he paced his narrow limits in the performance of his duty.