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The Ancestors Of Peter Atherly
by
“Entirely on account of that,” said Peter, with a sudden bitterness he could not repress. “But they are very pleasant,” he added quickly, “and very simple and unaffected, in spite of their rank; perhaps I ought to say, BECAUSE of it.”
“You mean they are kind to us because they feel themselves superior,–just as you are kind to the Indians, Peter.”
“I am afraid they have no such sense of political equality towards us, Jenny, as impels me to be just to the Indian,” he said with affected lightness. “But Lady Elfrida sympathizes with the Indians–very much.”
“She!” The emphasis which his sister put upon the personal pronoun was unmistakable, but Peter ignored it, and so apparently did she, as she 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 gown and blanket, with only a string of beads around her throat, she was as pretty as any one here. And I dare say she could be educated and appear as well as any white woman. I should so like to have you see her. I would have tried to bring her to the fort, but the braves are very jealous of their wives or daughters seeing white men, you know, and I was afraid of the colonel.”
She had spoken volubly and with a strange excitement, but even at the moment her face changed again, and as she left the office, with a quick laugh and parting gesture, there were tears in her eyes.
Accustomed to her moods and caprices, Peter thought little of the intrusion, relieved as he was of his first fears. She had come to him from loneliness and curiosity, and, perhaps, he thought with a sad smile, from a little sisterly jealousy of the young girl who had evinced such an interest in him, and had known him before. He took up his pen and continued the interrupted paragraph of his report.