Oh, no, my sister, you don’t wish any such thing. Yes I do. I wish I could take that cat’s place. Now Cora, don’t get visionary again. There is nothing visionary about it. It was the most real thing that I ever saw. I saw that cat lying on his breast, clasped in his arms. And for that reason you want to be a cat? What better reason? I am a woman, and what woman could resist the temptation to be encircled within those manly arms, gaze into those dark, deep orbs, drink in the sweet nectar of love, feel his heart beat in unison with mine, and hear him pronounce those endearing words, “Mine is thine, and thine is mine. Such is love’s most holy sign.” Why, Cora, you are really romantic. There is nothing romantic about it. I tell you, I am going to fall in love. No, that don’t express it. I am going to jump in love with him. What? before you know who or what he is? Perhaps he has been brought up among the Indians. Oh, pshaw! What difference would that make? You judge others by yourself. You don’t know anything about a woman’s heart. When a woman loves, she loves intently, earnestly, devotedly, and seeks to unite herself to the object of her affection. Yes, I would rather marry an Indian than one of your lisping dudes whose brains compare well with the sap in his cane, and contains about as much sense, without pluck enough to fight a fly. A woman hates timidity, and despises a coward. They prefer a rough man to a timid fool. The rough man, when he kisses you, encircles you in his arms, pressing you to his bosom, and imprints a kiss on your mouth that electrifies the whole system. The dude stands off at arm’s length, and kisses you on the tip of the finger. There is no electricity about that. And when you come across one of those fellows, just make up your mind that that fellow is a fraud, hypocrite or fool—probably a compound of all three. But Cora, there is a gulf between you and he—an abyss that cannot be bridged. Then I will jump it. Don’t you know that when a woman loves, all obstacles can be overcome? that prison bars melt like ice in the meridian sun? that love will pick locks and remove prison bolts? that time and distance are annihilated, mountains become mole hills, and oceans mere streams? What care I for gold and silver? What care I for houses and land? What care I for ships on the ocean? What I want is my own man. But nature has placed an obstacle in the way, Cora, that can’t be removed. And if it was in your power, you would not consent that it should be removed. _You are his own aunt!_ I, that man’s aunt? Well, Lieutenant, that shows that you are visionary. Oh, you are a lunatic—insane—mad! I can’t trust myself here any longer with you. Good day! Stay, Cora, and I will explain. Sit down by my side, and hear the story of your sister’s wrongs and the young man’s life. I am all ears, Lieutenant.