When I had laid the gold beneath the pillory, we struck swiftly
across the square, being in fear lest the watch should come upon
us, and took the first lane that led toward the palisade. Beneath the
burning stars the town lay stark in sleep. So bright in the wintry air
were those far-away lights that the darkness below them was not
great. We could see the low houses, the shadowy pines, the naked
oaks, the sandy lane glimmering away to the river, star-strewn to
match the heavens. The air was cold, but exceedingly clear and
still. Now and then a dog barked, or wolves howled in the forest
across the river. We kept in the shadow of the houses and the trees,
and went with the swiftness, silence, and caution of Indians.
The last house we must pass before reaching the palisade was one
that Rolfe owned, and in which he lodged when business brought
him to Jamestown. It and some low outbuildings beyond it were as
dark as the cedars in which they were set, and as silent as the
grave. Rolfe and his Indian brother were sleeping there now, while
I stood without. Or did they sleep? Were they there at all? Might it
not have been Rolfe who had bribed the gaoler and procured the
pass from West? Might I not find him at that strange trysting
place? Might not all be well, after all? I was sorely tempted to
rouse that silent house and demand if its master were within.
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