“Slavery among the Indians is no worse than among the negroes,” said her host, with an admiring smile. “Women are not responsible for slavery, sir,” said Jean. “But women are very ardent defenders of slavery wherever it exists, my daughter,” added her father, gravely. “That’s because they themselves are servants without wages, daddie. Mother used to say that the worst slave-drivers she ever saw down South were the overseers who were slaves themselves. Women are not angels, but they are doing the best they can without political power.” “I don’t know but you are right, Miss Ranger. Women ought to have power. My sovereign is a woman, and we have no slavery in England.” “Thank you for giving me the best of the argument, Mr. Ashleigh. But I see that daddie is impatient, and we must be going.” “I hope you’ll pardon me for referring to a proposition you made last evening, although you may have changed your mind, Miss Ranger. You proposed writing to my mother. Will you do it?” “Ask daddie.” “I have no objection, of course,” said her father, “if it is understood that I shall see the letters.” “Of course,” responded Jean. “May I have the pleasure of corresponding with your daughter, sir?” “Yes, if I can see the correspondence.” This was a greater concession than Jean had dared to hope for. “Thank you, Captain Ranger. I am sure my mother will be delighted with the young lady’s letters. She has awakened my dormant sense of filial duty and inspired me with a determination to return to it. I shall not neglect my mother again.” “Come, Jean! It is high time we were off!” As her father spoke, the possible termination to this peculiar meeting gave him a heartache. The last good-byes were spoken, and Captain Ranger heaved a sigh of relief. “It will be out of sight, out of mind, with both of ’em in less than a month!” he said, _sotto voce_. XXVII _JEAN TRANSFORMED_ “Where did you spend the night, Jean?” asked Mary. “In heaven,” answered Jean, her cheeks glowing. “Nonsense.” “I mean exactly what I say, Mame. I lodged with an Indian princess, and ate my meals with a member of the British aristocracy. The princess couldn’t speak English, but her brother acted as interpreter, so we got on all right. She is a slave of an old chief of the Seattles. I wish I had the money; I’d buy her, and send her back to her people.” “You might as well wish you owned the moon!” “I own the earth,—as much of it as I need. Everybody does.” “Then the most of us get cheated out of our patrimony,” laughed Sally O’Dowd. “I wish you could all have had a chance to look in on me and my princess last night; we were as snug as two bugs in a rug. The crickets sang on the hearth, just as they used to do of nights in the old home. The wind roared like a storm at sea, and the rush of the river was grand. I can shut my eyes and live it all over again.” “You’ve gone stark mad!” laughed Hal.