to herself. It was a
recognized, respectable, and even superior occupation for gentlemen in
England; what it might be in America,--who knows? She certainly found
Peter, the civilian, more attractive, for there really was nothing
English to compare him with, and she had something of the same feeling
in her friendship for Jenny, except the patronage which Jenny seemed to
solicit, and perhaps require, as a foreigner.

One afternoon the English guests, accompanied by a few of their hosts
and a small escort, were making a shooting expedition to the vicinity of
Green Spring, when Peter, plunged in his report, looked up to find his
sister entering his office. Her face was pale, and there was something
in her expression which reawakened his old anxiety. Nevertheless he
smiled, and said gently:--

"Why are you not enjoying yourself with the others?"

"I have a headache," she said, languidly, "but," lifting her eyes
suddenly to his, "why are YOU not? You are their good friend, you
know,--even their relation."

"No more than you are," he returned, with affected gayety. "But look at
the report--it is only half finished! I have already been shirking it
for them."

"You mustn't let your devotion to the Indians keep you from your older
friends," said Mrs. Lascelles, with an odd laugh. "But you never told
me about these people before, Peter; tell me now. They were very kind to
you, weren't they, on account of your relationship?"

"Entirely on account of that," said Peter, with a sudden bitterness he
could not repress. "But they are very pleasant," he added quickly, "and
very simple and unaffected, in spite of their rank; perhaps I ought to
say, BECAUSE of it."

"You mean they are kind to us because they feel themselves
superior,--just as you are kind to the Indians, Peter."

"I am afraid they have no such sense of political equality towards us,
Jenny, as impels me to be just to the Indian," he said with affected
lightness. "But Lady Elfrida sympathizes with the Indians--very much."

"She!" The emphasis which his sister put upon the personal pronoun was
unmistakable, but Peter ignored it, and so apparently did she, as she
said the next moment in a different voice, "She's very pretty, don't you
think?"

"Very," said Peter coldly.

There was a long pause. Peter slightly fingered one of the sheets of his
delayed report on his desk. His sister looked up. "I'm afraid I'm as bad
as Lady Elfrida in keeping you from your Indians;