So she passed like a splendid vision through the street perhaps
once a week. On Sundays she went with me to church, and the
people looked at her instead of at the minister, who rebuked them
not, because his eyes were upon the same errand.
The early autumn passed and the leaves began to turn, and still all
things were as they had been, save that the Assembly sat no longer.
My fellow Burgesses went back to their hundreds, but my house at
Weyanoke knew me no more. In a tone that was apologetic, but
firm, the Governor had told me that he wished my company at
Jamestown. I was pleased enough to stay, I assured him, - as
indeed I was. At Weyanoke, the thunderbolt would fall without
warning; at Jamestown, at least I could see, coming up the river,
the sails of the Due Return or what other ship the Company might
send.
The color of the leaves deepened, and there came a season of a
beauty singular and sad, like a smile left upon the face of the dead
summer. Over all things, near and far, the forest where it met the
sky, the nearer woods, the great river, and the streams that empty
into it, there hung a blue haze, soft and dream-like. The forest
became a painted forest, with an ever thinning canopy and an ever
thickening carpet of crimson and gold; everywhere there was a low
rustling underfoot and a slow rain of color.
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