"Don't wake her yet. I know I forget a great deal—everything seems far off—but just at last I wanted you, and you are here."
Both were silent for a minute. Then he spoke again—
"Mary, why did you marry an Indian?"
"Because I loved him," she said, her voice half choked by sobs.
"It was a pity. You knew nothing. They cheated you into it; but I think, though he was a brute, he loved you always. In his way, you know, as much as he could."
His mind seemed to be beginning to wander again, and his voice grew weaker. She rose, crying quietly, and gave him a little more wine. Then she touched Lucia and said, "Come, my child."
Lucia was instantly awake. She followed her mother to the bedside.
"Here is our daughter. Can you see her?"
"Not very well. Is she like you?"
"No. She is an Indian girl—strangers say she is beautiful, but to me she is only my brave, good child."