"I meant no harm; and his worship knows it, none better: but where is Raleigh going to send us, with a murrain?"
"To Virginia. The settlers must have help: and, as I trust in God, we shall be back again long before this armament can bestir itself."
So Raleigh came, saw, and conquered. Mrs. Leigh consented to Amyas's going (for his twelvemonth would be over ere the fleet could start) upon so peaceful and useful an errand; and the next five months were spent in continual labor on the part of Amyas and Grenvile, till seven ships were all but ready in Bideford river, the admiral whereof was Amyas Leigh.
But that fleet was not destined ever to see the shores of the New World: it had nobler work to do (if Americans will forgive the speech) than even settling the United States.
It was in the long June evenings, in the year 1588; Mrs. Leigh sat in the open window, busy at her needle-work; Ayacanora sat opposite to her, on the seat of the bay, trying diligently to read "The History of the Nine Worthies," and stealing a glance every now and then towards the garden, where Amyas stalked up and down as he had used to do in happier days gone by. But his brow was contracted now, his eyes fixed on the ground, as he plodded backwards and forwards, his hands behind his back, and a huge cigar in his mouth, the wonder of the little boys of Northam, who peeped in stealthily as they passed the iron-work gates, to see the back of the famous fire-breathing captain who had sailed round the world and been in the country of headless men and flying dragons, and then popped back their heads suddenly, as he turned toward them in his walk. And Ayacanora looked, and looked with no less admiration than the urchins at the gate: but she got no more of an answering look from Amyas than they did; for his head was full of calculations of tonage and stowage, of salt pork and ale-barrels, and the packing of tools and seeds; for he had promised Raleigh to do his best for the new colony, and he was doing it with all his might; so Ayacanora looked back again to her book, and heaved a deep sigh. It was answered by one from Mrs. Leigh.
"We are a melancholy pair, sweet chuck," said the fair widow. "What is my maid sighing about, there?"
"Because I cannot make out the long words," said Ayacanora, telling a very white fib.
"Is that all? Come to me, and I will tell you."
Ayacanora moved over to her, and sat down at her feet.
"H—e, he, r—o, ro, i—c—a—1, heroical," said Mrs. Leigh.
"But what does that mean?"
"Grand, good, and brave, like"
Mrs. Leigh was about to have said the name of one who was lost to her on earth. His fair angelic face hung opposite upon the wall. She paused unable to pronounce his name; and lifted up her eyes, and gazed on the portrait, and breathed a prayer between closed lips, and drooped her head again.
