“At any rate, your father wouldn’t consent to our marriage, and you
wouldn’t be willing to wed me without his permission.”
The young woman lifted her head. Her face brightened, paying her hand
caressingly upon his knee, she murmured faintly:
“Father wouldn’t oppose our marriage, Ross, if you would quit your roving
ways, give up your Indian friends and rough associates, and settle down
to work. He thinks you shiftless—that you wouldn’t provide well for
me—would never accumulate anything.”
Douglas’s handsome face flushed hotly as he asked:
“Is that all the reason your father had for ordering me from his door and
forbidding me to speak to you?”
She was silent for a moment. Then she replied hesitatingly:
“Y-e-s—the main reason.”
“And the others?”
His voice was hard and cold. She dropped her lids, but did not answer.
“Amy, tell me,” he cried almost fiercely, catching her wrist in his firm
grasp.
“He says you—you don’t—know who your father was,” she faltered.
He sprang to his feet, his face aflame.
“It’s a base lie!” he began. Then he set his teeth and paused a moment to
regain control of himself. Presently he resumed in quiet, even tones:
“Amy, it’s a mistake. I know who my father was—or is, if he be alive.
I’m no illegitimate child. My mother’s husband was John Douglas, an
intelligent but dissipated and unprincipled man, who abused her—and
finally deserted her, shortly after I was born. Her health rapidly
failed; and she died when I was but a child, leaving me to the care of
her brother, a roving and adventurous fur-trader. This uncle wandered
from tribe to tribe, bartering arms, blankets, and trinkets, for
peltries. On one of these trading trips he took me with him—when I was
eight years old—and left me with the Wyandots, while he proceeded on
his journey. For four years I remained with the savages. They were kind
to me. I learned their ways; I played with the youth of the tribe. I
absorbed their ideas, manners, and customs—I fell in love with the wild,
free life of the redmen. Then my uncle again put in an appearance, and,
taking me with him, returned to the East.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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