The professor rubbed his hands with satisfaction.
"Quite so—quite so!" he replied. "What, in your opinion, would be the outcome?"
For a moment Grace left the question unanswered. Then, decisively, she said:
"Such a girl would never yield. Her training, her pride, her self-respect, would protect her. She would die before she degraded herself."
"The idea is preposterous!" exclaimed Mrs. Stuart impatiently.
"My dear ladies, you are both mistaken. I once knew a New York girl, highly educated, wealthy, popular with her friends, who gave up everything, a luxurious home, her position in society, to follow the man she loved—a full-blooded Indian—back to the tents of his people. To-day that girl is living Indian fashion on a Western reservation. In place of her one-time elegance she wears her hair down over her shoulders, an old blanket keeps her warm, her proud carriage has given place to the uncertain, shambling gait, on her back is strapped her Indian papoose. Her old life is practically blotted out."
"Ah," interrupted Grace, "but that is a different case. She loved the Indian. If the girl on the island loved the sailor, she might fall, too, but love should never degrade. On the contrary, it should redeem and uplift the man."
The professor nodded approvingly.
"Bravo! bravo!" he cried.