I must or else take up my abode speedily yonder," and he
pointed to the graveyard. "It is a bitter thing to go now and leave my
work unfinished, to know that mine enemies will rejoice--"

"I shall die when thou art gone," she interrupted, kneeling down beside
him; "thou hast become like a god to Matoaka, a god strong and
wonderful."

"Little Sister! Little Sister!" he repeated as he stroked her hair. Once
again there came to him the thought he had harbored before--that perhaps
when this child was grown he might claim her as a wife. Now this would
never come to pass.

She knelt there still in silence, then she asked, hope and eagerness in
her voice: "Thou wilt come back to us?"

"If I may, Matoaka; if I live we shall see each other again."

He did not tell her what was in his mind, that no English Dorothy or
Cicely, golden-haired and rosy-cheeked, would ever be as dear to him as
he now realized this child of the forest had grown to be.

And then with perfect faith that her "Brother" would bring to pass what
he had promised, Pocahontas's spirits rose. She did not try to calculate
the weeks and months that should go by before she was to see him again.
She seated herself beside him on the ground and listened while he
talked to her of all that he was leaving behind and his love and concern
for the Colony.

"See, Matoaka," he said, his voice growing stronger in his eagerness,
"this town is like unto a child of mine own, so dear is it to me. I have
spent sleepless nights and weary days, I have suffered cold and hunger
and the contumely of jealous men in its behalf; nay perchance, even
death itself. And thou, too, hast shown it great favors till in truth it
hath become partly thine own and dear to thee. Now that I must depart, I
leave Jamestown to thy care. Wilt thou continue to watch over it, to do
all within thy power for its welfare?"

"That will I gladly, my Brother, when thou leavest it like a squaw
without her brave. Not a day shall pass that I will not peer through the
forests hitherward to see that all be well; mine ears shall harken each
night lest harm approach it. 'Jamestown is Pocahontas's friend,' I shall
whisper to the north wind, and it will not blow too hard. 'Pocahontas is
the friend of Jamestown,' I shall call to the sun that it beat not too
fiercely upon it. 'Pocahontas loves Jamestown,' I shall whisper to the
river that it eat not too deep into the island's banks, and"--here the
half-playful tone ch