“I’m better now,” he said, as his temples cooled. “Will you forgive me for beating you last night, Wahnetta?” She looked at him in astonishment. Never before, though he had often bestowed indignities upon her that he would not have inflicted upon a favorite dog or horse, had he addressed her thus, or shown any sign of repentance. “If I had kept my promise, Wahnetta, as I should have done, I would have taken you as a bride to London or Montreal and replaced you in the world of civilization, in which you were educated by your fond, mistaken father. But I couldn’t do it, because of my daily dread of the hangman’s rope. I do not wonder that you despise me. I did not realize that I had become that thing that every self-respecting man of the West abhors,—a ‘squaw-man’!” “Don’t you dare to say ‘squaw’ to me, Joseph Addicks! It is an epithet no white man uses except in contempt. When we were married I was your equal in education, your superior in personal appearance, and your match in ambition. I now see that I was far ahead of you in moral character, for I was never a fugitive from what the world calls justice. But why didn’t you confide all this to me long ago?” He laughed derisively. “I knew the treacherous Indian nature too well, woman; and I wouldn’t trust you now if it were in your power to betray me; but there is nothing now to betray.” “And I am no longer afraid of you, Joseph Addicks.” “My name is not Addicks. My brother passed through here yesterday. His name is John Ranger, and I am his long-lost brother, Joseph. He is taking his family to the Territory of Oregon.” He arose finally and made a tolerable breakfast, she, for the first time since their marriage, taking her seat at the table beside him as he ate. “If you’d keep yourself clean and tidy, like a self-respecting white woman, you wouldn’t appear so—so Injuny, and I wouldn’t be so very much ashamed of you. I’m sick to death of this bondage, Wahnetta. I, too, was a young and unsophisticated fool when we were married. What will you take to let me out of it honorably? I want to do everything I can to atone; but something must be done. I will not longer endure this mode of existence.” “I have an idea, Joseph. My inheritance from my father arrived several days ago. I hadn’t thought of claiming it for myself, but I will now. Give me a letter of credit for the whole of it, with an outfit for travelling, and I will go, with the children, to a village on the Willamette River called Portland, in the Territory of Oregon. You know Dr. McLoughlin well, and so do I. There’s a convent in Portland, where I can place the girls, and a brothers’ school near by for the boys. I’ll get a boarding-place, not too far away, for myself and the little tots that are too young to be in school. I will soon recruit if I can get a chance to rest up and dress myself as the white women in my position do. You won’t know me in three months after I have had a chance to live in keeping with my station.”