“Entirely so?”
“Yes, entirely.”
“And do you think you can be content to spend the remainder of your life among those Indians, and finally to die there?”
“Why not? I have no enemies; they are all my friends.”
“I do not doubt that; but they are savage and you are civilized; they are of one race and you of another.”
“It is a difference to you but none to me,” she said, sorrowfully. “Nowhere else could I find such friends as there.”
“Do you doubt me, dearest Lamora? Do you not believe that I love you? that I am yours, heart and soul? Tell me, do you think I am deceiving you?”
Her head drooped still lower, but she replied distinctly:
“No; I do not think you would do that.”