But Mistress Lettice did not hear the door unlatched that night, nor the moccasined feet of Pocahontas as they sped through the street down to a quiet spot on the river bank whither she often went.  The maiden’s heart was so full that under a roof she felt it would burst.  And until dawn she stood on the shore, her face turned eastward towards the sea across which he had sailed away, bewailing her “Brother” in the manner of her people, now calling to Okee to guide him to the happy hunting grounds, and now praying God to bear his soul to the Christian heaven.

* * * * *

John Rolfe found nothing amiss with Pocahontas when he saw her next day, nor did any of the conspirators tell him of the false news that they had communicated to Lady Rebecca or their interest in his wooing.

And his wooing was very gentle and wonderful to Pocahontas.  No Indian lover, she knew, ever won his squaw in this way.  She listened to his words with amazement when he told her that he wanted her to be his wife, to make a home for him in this new land.  When she gave him her word she felt much as if she were the very heroine of one of the tales she had listened to so often about the lodge fire, a deer perhaps that was to be magically transformed into human shape, or a bird on whom the spirits had bestowed speech—­so immeasurably superior did the English still appear to her.

It was some weeks later that Sir Thomas Dale, grown impatient for a settlement of their differences with Powhatan, decided to go to Werowocomoco and take Pocahontas with him to act as peacemaker.  With them, on Argall’s ship, went John Rolfe and Master Sparkes and one hundred and fifty men.

When they tried to land at a village near Werowocomoco the Indians were very arrogant and opposed their passage.  In return the English fired upon them and when the terrified savages ran into the forest to escape the white men’s weapons, the victors burned all the lodges of the town and wantonly spoiled the corn stacked up in a storehouse.

Pocahontas, who was sorrowful at the enmity between those she loved, besought Sir Thomas: 

“Let me go among my people.  They will harken to me and I will hasten to my father, and when he beholdeth me once more he will deny me nothing.  And it is a long time since I have looked upon his face,” she pleaded.

But Sir Thomas refused.  He was not minded to lose this valuable hostage; even though Pocahontas might be eager to return, he was sure that the old chieftain would never let her leave him.

“Prithee, then,” she suggested sadly, “send messengers in my name, saying that ye will abstain from further fighting for a night and day.  If the messengers bear this feather of mine,” here she took a white eagle’s feather from her headband, “they may pass in safety where they will.”  As they were leaving she charged them:  “And beg of my father to send my brothers to see me, since I may not go to them.”