said the next moment in a different voice, "She's very pretty, don't you
think?"
"Very," said Peter coldly.
There was a long pause. Peter slightly fingered one of the sheets of his
delayed report on his desk. His sister looked up. "I'm afraid I'm as bad
as Lady Elfrida in keeping you from your Indians; but I had something to
say to you. No matter, another time will do when you're not so busy."
"Please go on now," said Peter, with affected unconcern, yet with a
feeling of uneasiness creeping over him.
"It was only this," said Jenny, seating herself with her elbow on the
desk and her chin in a cup-like hollow of her hand, "did you ever think
that in the interests of these poor Indians, you know, purely for the
sake of your belief in them, and just to show that you were above vulgar
prejudices,--did you ever think you could marry one of them?"
Two thoughts flashed quickly on Peter's mind,--first, that Lady Elfrida
had repeated something of their conversation to his sister; secondly,
that some one had told her of Little Daybreak. Each was equally
disturbing. But he recovered himself quickly and said, "I might if I
thought it was required. But even a sacrifice is not always an example."
"Then you think it would be a sacrifice?" she said, slowly raising her
dark eyes to his.
"If I did something against received opinion, against precedent, and
for aught I know against even the prejudices of those I wish to serve,
however lofty my intention was and however great the benefit to them in
the end, it would still be a sacrifice in the present." He saw his own
miserable logic and affected didactics, but he went on lightly, "But
why do you ask such a question? You haven't any one in your mind for me,
have you?"
She had risen thoughtfully and was moving towards the door. Suddenly she
turned with a quick, odd vivacity: "Perhaps I had. Oh, Peter, there was
such a lovely little squaw I saw the last time I was at Oak Bottom! She
was no darker than I am, but so beautiful. Even in her little cotton
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