"Cora! Cora!"
"It is true, indeed. This morning he ordered me to quit his house; not to let him find me still there on his return; never to let him see or hear from me again unless it was with my consent to recall and marry my English suitor."
"But, Cora, my dear, why can you not come into his conditions? Why can you not marry Cumbervale? He is a splendid fellow every way, and he loves you as hard as a horse can kick. He is awfully in love with you, my dear. Now, why not marry him and make everybody happy and all serene?"
"Because, Uncle Fabian, I don't happen to be in love with him," replied Corona, with just a shade of disdain in her manner.
"Well, my dear, I will not undertake to persuade you to change your mind. If you have inherited nothing else from the Iron King, you have his strength of will. What are you going to do, Cora?"
"I am going to carry out my purpose of going to the Indian Reserve as missionary to the Indian tribes, to devote all my time and all my fortune to their welfare."
"A mad scheme, my dear Cora. How are you, a young woman, going to manage to do this? Under the auspices of what church do you act?"
"Under that of the broad church of Christian charity—no other."
"But how are you going to reach the field of your labors? How are you going to cross those vast tracts, destitute of all inhabitants except tribes of savages, destitute of all roads except the government 'trails'?"
"You know, if you have not forgotten, that it was my purpose to join my brother at his post, and to establish my school near his fort and under its protection."