The Translation of a Savage | Page 8

girl had possibilities. But here
she was, an Indian, with few signs of civilisation or of that breeding

which seems to white people the only breeding fit for earth or heaven.
Mrs. Townley did not need Lambert's suggestion that she should try to
approach the girl, make friends with her, and prepare her in some slight
degree for the strange career before her.
Mrs. Townley had an infinite amount of tact. She knew it was best to
approach the attendant first. This she did, and, to the surprise of other
lady-passengers, received no rebuff. Her advance was not, however,
rapid. Mackenzie had had her instructions. When she found that Mrs.
Townley knew Francis Armour and his people, she thawed a little more,
and then, very hesitatingly, she introduced her to the Indian wife. Mrs.
Townley smiled her best--and there were many who knew how
attractive she could be at such a moment. There was a slight pause, in
which Lali looked at her meditatively, earnestly, and then those
beautiful wild fingers glided out, and caught her hand, and held it; but
she spoke no word. She only looked inquiringly, seriously, at her
new-found friend, and presently dropped the blanket away from her,
and sat up firmly, as though she felt she was not altogether an alien
now, and had a right to hold herself proudly among white people, as
she did in her own country and with her own tribe, who had greatly
admired her. Certainly Mrs. Townley could find no fault with the
woman as an Indian. She had taste, carried her clothes well, and was
superbly fresh in appearance, though her hair still bore very slight
traces of the grease which even the most aristocratic Indians use.
But Lali would not talk. Mrs. Townley was anxious that the girl should
be dressed in European costume, and offered to lend and rearrange
dresses of her own, but she came in collision with Mr. Armour's
instructions. So she had to assume a merely kind and comforting
attitude. The wife had not the slightest idea where she was going, and
even when Mackenzie, at Mrs. Townley's oft-repeated request,
explained very briefly and unpicturesquely, she only looked
incredulous or unconcerned. Yet the ship, its curious passengers, the
dining saloon, the music, the sea, and all, had given her suggestions of
what was to come. They had expected that at table she would be
awkward and ignorant to a degree. But she had at times eaten at the

trader's table at Fort Charles, and had learned how to use a knife and
fork. She had also been a favourite with the trader's wife, who had
taught her very many civilised things. Her English, though far from
abundant, was good. Those, therefore, who were curious and rude
enough to stare at her were probably disappointed to find that she ate
like "any Christom man."
"How do you think the Armours will receive her?" said Lambert to Mrs.
Townley, of whose judgment on short acquaintance he had come to
entertain a high opinion.
Mrs. Townley had a pretty way of putting her head to one side and
speaking very piquantly. She had had it as a girl; she had not lost it as a
woman, any more than she had lost a soft little spontaneous laugh
which was one of her unusual charms--for few women can laugh
audibly with effect. She laughed very softly now, and, her sense of
humour supervening for the moment, she said:
"Really, you have asked me a conundrum. I fancy I see Mrs. Armour's
face when she gets the news,--at the breakfast-table, of course, and
gives a little shriek, and says: 'General! oh, General!' But it is all very
shocking, you know," she added, in a lower voice. "Still I think they
will receive her and do the best they can for her; because, you see, there
she is, married hard and fast. She bears the Armour name, and is likely
to make them all very unhappy, indeed, if she determines to retaliate
upon them for any neglect."
"Yes. But how to retaliate, Mrs. Townley?" Lambert had not a
suggestive mind.
"Well, for instance, suppose they sent her away into seclusion,--with
Frank's consent, another serious question,--and she should take the
notion to fly her retirement, and appear inopportunely at some social
function clothed as she is now! I fancy her blanket would be a wet one
in such a case--if you will pardon the little joke."
Lambert sighed. "Poor Frank--poor devil!" he said, almost beneath his
breath.

"And wherefore poor Frank? Do you think he or the Armours of
Greyhope are the only ones at stake in this? What about this poor girl?
Just think why he married her, if our suspicions are right,--and then
imagine her feelings when she wakes to the