‚ÄúWe Southerners, my dear Mrs. ¬ÝGrey, are responsible for a variety of reputations.‚Äù And he told an anecdote that set the table laughing. ‚ÄúSeriously, though,‚Äù he continued, ‚Äúwe are not as black as the blacks paint us, although on the whole I prefer that Helen should marry‚ÅÝ‚Äîa white man.‚Äù
They all glanced at Miss Cresswell, who lay softly back in her chair like a white lily, gleaming and bejewelled, her pale face flushing under the scrutiny; Mrs. ¬ÝGrey was horrified.
‚ÄúWhy‚ÅÝ‚Äîwhy the idea!‚Äù she sputtered. ‚ÄúWhy, Mr. ¬ÝCresswell, how can you conceive of anything else‚ÅÝ‚Äîno Northerner dreams‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù
Mr. ¬ÝCresswell sipped his wine slowly.
‚ÄúNo‚ÅÝ‚Äîno‚ÅÝ‚ÄîI do not think you do mean that‚ÅÝ‚Äî‚Äù He paused and the Englishman bent forward.
‚ÄúReally, now, you do not mean to say that there is a danger of‚ÅÝ‚Äîof amalgamation, do you?‚Äù he sang.
Mr. ¬ÝCresswell explained. No, of course there was no immediate danger; but when people were suddenly thrust beyond their natural station, filled with wild ideas and impossible ambitions, it meant terrible danger to Southern white women.
“But you believe in some education?” asked Mary Taylor.
“I believe in the training of people to their highest capacity.” The Englishman here heartily seconded him.
“But,” Cresswell added significantly, “capacity differs enormously between races.”