“Why were you so anxious to find me, Bradford?” Ross could not refrain from asking. “Don’t interrupt me,” the other cried irritably. “I have much to tell you. I mean to explain all, but I must do it in my own way. As I said, I hunted for you far and near; but I couldn’t locate you. My health was failing. I realized that I was affected with a fatal malady, and I worried night and day—I feared I was to die without again seeing you. Finally my business led me to this vicinity. I came not as a spy”—the color mantled his pale cheeks, and the puckered scar flamed scarlet—“but as a British commissary to look after the needs of Tecumseh’s warriors. Yesterday I was captured; and here I am—doomed to an ignominious death. But it doesn’t matter; I’ve found you—I can carry out my plans ere I die.” The husky voice was hardly audible. For a few moments neither spoke. Mastering his emotion, Bradford asked abruptly: “Douglas, would you like to see La Violette?” “Very much,” Ross replied promptly. “Do you know where she is?” “At the British encampment across the river.” “Ah! You _do_ know. Did you see her there—did you meet her?” “No; but I heard of her presence there, through another.” “Ross Douglas, do you love La Violette?” Anger blazed in the young man’s handsome countenance, and he replied hotly: “What is it to you, Hiram Bradford, whom I love?” “Much more than you suspect, my boy,” was the cool rejoinder. “Answer my question, please. Do you love La Violette?” Douglas shut his fists and set his teeth. For a full minute, he sat and glared at his audacious questioner. But Bradford did not quail. On the contrary, he smiled and said with provoking coolness: “I must have a positive answer from you. Do you, or do you not, love La Violette?” “Yes, I—love—her,” replied Ross through his shut teeth. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that!” the older man exclaimed joyfully. “She loves you, my lad—you know that, as well as I. Will you marry her?” “You are carrying this thing too far, Bradford,” Douglas cried. “Why do you meddle in my affairs—why have you done so in the past?” “You want to know?” Bradford replied, his scarred countenance suddenly losing its expression of mocking carelessness, and becoming grave. “I want to know,” was the decided answer. “Then prepare yourself for a disagreeable surprise,” Bradford said in a husky whisper. “I’m ready for anything,” Ross replied. “Go on.” “Ross Douglas, _I—am—your—father_!” With a hoarse cry—half-groan—the young man arose and staggered against the rough wall. His face was colorless; his limbs were shaking; and he threatened to sink to the ground. Bradford quickly got upon his feet and, grasping his companion by the shoulders, forced him to resume his seat, saying in bitter accents: “Don’t let the disagreeable truth unman you. Sit down. I shall not disgrace you long with my presence on earth.” Ross sank upon the rude bench, murmuring brokenly: