Not at present. I have not seen my father yet. I shall spend the afternoon with him and return on board of the Reindeer in the evening. The word “father” fell on the ear of the old man with more than ordinary significance. He was a father, yet he had no child. Other homes were made bright and happy. The voices of children and grand-children were to be heard, the infirmities of old age were softened and soothed by the lisping and prattling of the little ones. But my house is dark, doleful and deserted. Servants and servants only meet and greet me. Oh, my God! he exclaimed audibly, what have I done to be deprived of the comforts that others enjoy? Yes, what have I done—or rather what have I not done? Lieutenant, I am a monster—a demon—an unnatural father. I will smother it no longer. The fair form and figure of that young sailor has caused the scales to fall from my eyes. I wronged my children, but I wronged myself more. They have gone. They are beyond reproach. They have not remorse nor the sting of a guilty conscience. They have gone to a world of bliss, a world of peace and joy. I remain. I remain alone. Not one drop of my blood circulates in the veins of any mortal. Lieutenant, excuse this weakness. Go and administer to the wants of your father. Tell him I forgive him for all real or imaginary wrongs. Yes, tell him I ask his forgiveness, and wish to be forgiven before the dark veil of the future is withdrawn. Tell him that I am a miserable, lonely, unhappy man. Tell him that this day I have seen the ghost of his and my child, dressed in the garb of a common sailor. Lieutenant Powers had been an interested listener, and was more than half convinced that Lord Wallace would become reconciled to own and receive his grand-son. He saw that his memory had been awakened and his suspicions aroused by the young man who had saved his life. I must bid you good day, my Lord, and hurry to my father, realizing that I shall meet you on board of the Reindeer this evening. Lord Wallace rose from his chair and attempted to extend his hand, but his emotions overcame him. After faltering for several moments, he gave vent to his thoughts. Lieutenant, excuse me for asking one more question. Certainly, my Lord. In your rambles in America, have you learned the truth as to the death of those that your father and myself so wrongfully drove to that wilderness world? I have heard, my Lord, that they are dead. I had the whole country searched at the time, and the result convinced me that all four perished by drowning. But they each had a child. Did they perish also? The Lieutenant was now brought to a point that there was no evading. It had been his intention of breaking the news to his father before acquainting Lord Wallace with the fact that the simple sailor that saved his life was none other than his own grand-son. But to deny or evade the truth, he could not. He replied: My Lord, we have some reason for believing that their children are alive.