CHAPTER IV IN WHICH I AM LIKE TO REPENT AT LEISURE.
WHEN we had passed the mouth of the Chickahominy, I broke the silence, now prolonged beyond reason, by pointing to the village upon its bank, and telling her something of Smith's expedition up that river, ending by asking her if she feared the savages.
When at length she succeeded in abstracting her attention from the clouds, it was to answer in the negative, in a tone of the supremest indifference, after which she relapsed into her contemplation of the weather.
Further on I tried again.

"That is Kent's, yonder.

He brought his wife from home last year.

What a hedge of sunflowers she has planted! If you love flowers, you will find those of paradise in these woods." No answer.
Below Martin-Brandon we met a canoe full of Paspaheghs, bound upon a friendly visit to some one of the down-river tribes; for in the bottom of the boat reposed a fat buck, and at the feet of the young men lay trenchers of maize cakes and of late mulberries.

I hailed them, and when we were alongside held up the brooch from my hat, then pointed to the purple fruit.