I don't
wonder Keela's delicate soul rebelled and drove her to the barbaric
costume of a chief. It is infinitely more picturesque and beautiful.
"There are thrilling camp fire tales of Osceola, the brilliant,
handsome young Seminole chief who blazoned his name over the pages of
Florida history, but here among Osceola's kinsmen, pages are
unnecessary. The sagas of the tribe are handed down from mouth to
mouth to stir the youth to deeds of daring. Keela, like Osceola, had a
white father and a Seminole mother. Ann, I sometimes wonder what
opportunity might have done for Osceola. As great as Napoleon, some
one said. What might opportunity do for this strange, exotic flower of
Osceola's people? She has brains and beauty and instinctive grace
enough to startle a continent. I am greatly tempted. Ann, I beg of
you, don't breathe any of this to Aunt Agatha. Some day I may carry
Keela away to the cities of the North for an experiment quite my own.
Her delicate beauty--her gravity--her shy, sweet dignity, hold me
powerfully. It would make life well worth the living--the regeneration
of a life like hers.
"No, I am not mad. If I am, it is a delicious madness indeed, this
craving to do something for some one else. I need the discipline of
thinking for another.
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