"Oh-h! Wh-what are you doing?" she gasped as his arm went around her. That arm of steel drew her so close and held her so tightly to his breast that she could feel the tremendous thumping of his heart. She felt herself trembling--trembling all over; the light in the window up beyond seemed to draw nearer, swelling to vast proportions as it bore down upon her. She closed her eyes. What was happening to her,--what was causing this strange languor, this queer sensation as of falling? As abruptly as he had clasped her to him, he released her, springing back with a muttered execration. She tottered dizzily, and involuntarily reached out to clutch his arm for support. He shook her hand off. "What is the matter, Kenny?" she murmured, hazily. He did not answer. He leaned heavily against the fence, his head on his arm. She did not move for many seconds. Then he heard her gasp,--a gasp of actual terror. "Who are you?" she whispered tensely. "You are not my brother. You are not the real Kenneth Gwynne! Who are you?" She waited for the answer that did not come. Then as she drew farther away from him: "You are an impostor. You have deceived us. You have come here representing yourself to be--to be my brother,--and you are not--you are not! I know it--oh, I know it now. You are--" This aroused him. "What is that you are saying?" he cried out, fighting to pull his disordered wits together. "Not your brother? Impostor? What are you saying, Viola?" "I want the truth," she cried. "Are you what you claim to be?" "Of course I am," he answered, stridently. "I am Kenneth Gwynne. Your brother. Have you lost your senses?" "Then, why--" she began huskily. "Why did you--Oh, Kenny, I don't know what I am saying," she murmured piteously. "I--I don't know what has come over me. Something--something--Oh, I don't know what made me feel--I mean, what made me say that to you. You are Kenneth Gwynne. You are my half-brother. You are not--" "There, there!" he interrupted, his voice shaking a little. "You were frightened. I came so near to shooting--Yes, that is it. And I was so happy, so relieved that I--I almost ate you alive,--my little sister. God, what a horrible thing it would have been if I had--fired and the bullet had--" She interrupted him, speaking rapidly, breathlessly in her effort to regain command of herself. "But you didn't--you didn't, you see,--so what is the use of worrying about it now?" She laughed jerkily. "But, my goodness, it is a good lesson for me! I'll never try to scare anybody else again as I did poor Zachariah." He stooped and, feeling among the weeds, recovered not one but both of the long duelling pistols. "I was after bigger game than you," he muttered. "Here are my pistols,--all primed and ready for business."