- When Edith's mother died her aunt and uncle, living on the Wyoming range, invited her to live with them. Soon after her arrival she rode out alone and, becoming bewildered by the vast rolling expanse of country, became lost. To her delight, she found a small cabin and man, whose gentlemanly manners contrasted strangely with his surroundings. He gravely offered to see her home and, on her arrival under his escort, she was even more surprised at the cool formality with which he was received. Their internet in each other grew, and he called so often that her aunt finally found it necessary to tell her that he was a squaw man. Horrified and heart-broken she taxed him with it. Now at last, the quiet, reserved, almost hermit-like man realized the coldness and suspicion of his treatment and told her the story of how, when a student at Harvard a girl had jilted him and he came west to forget. How in a Navajo village, a man had cruelly beaten and lamed his daughter, and he had bought her. How she had been with him ever since, the only one in whom he had found truth and fidelity. At the end he said, "Now you are my judge and jury. What is your verdict?" Of course her verdict was "Not Guilty," and she realized the folly of her suspicions when she saw the sweet face, but the terribly maimed and bent form of the little squaw.—Moving Picture World synopsis
- "When Edith's mother died her aunt and uncle, living on the Wyoming range, invited her to live with them. Soon after her arrival she rode out alone and, becoming bewildered by the vast rolling expanse of country, became lost. To her delight, she found a small cabin and a man, whose gentlemanly manners contrasted strangely with his surroundings. He gravely offered to see her home and, on her arrival under his escort, she was even more surprised at the cool formality with which he was received. Their interest in each other grew, and he called so often that her aunt finally found it necessary to tell her that he was a squawman. Horrified and heart-broken she taxed him with it. Now, at last, the quiet, reserved, almost hermit-like man realized the coldness and suspicion of his treatment, and told her the story of how, when a student at Harvard a girl had jilted him and he came West to forget. How in a Navajo village, a man had cruelly beaten and lamed his daughter, and he bought her. How she had been with him ever since, the only one in whom he had found truth and fidelity. At the end he said, 'Now you are my judge and jury. What is your verdict?' Of course her verdict was 'Not Guilty,' and she realized the folly of her suspicions when she saw the sweet face, but terribly maimed and bent form of the little squaw." Motion Picture World Oct-Dec 1912 p.70
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