e would have been an
abuse of a confided trust, had I taken advantage of my situation for
such a purpose."

"Your notions are those of a gentleman, Major Heyward, and well enough
in their place. But Cora Munro is a maiden too discreet, and of a mind
too elevated and improved, to need the guardianship even of a father."

"Cora!"

"Ay--Cora! we are talking of your pretensions to Miss Munro, are we not,
sir?"

"I--I--I was not conscious of having mentioned her name," said Duncan,
stammering.

"And to marry whom, then, did you wish my consent, Major Heyward?"
demanded the old soldier, erecting himself in the dignity of offended
feeling.

"You have another, and not less lovely child."

"Alice!" exclaimed the father, in an astonishment equal to that with
which Duncan had just repeated the name of her sister.

"Such was the direction of my wishes, sir."

The young man awaited in silence the result of the extraordinary
effect produced by a communication, which, as it now appeared, was so
unexpected. For several minutes Munro paced the chamber with long
and rapid strides, his rigid features working convulsively, and every
faculty seemingly absorbed in the musings of his own mind. At length, he
paused directly in front of Heyward, and riveting his eyes upon those of
the other, he said, with a lip that quivered violently:

"Duncan Heyward, I have loved you for the sake of him whose blood is
in your veins; I have loved you for your own good qualities; and I have
loved you, because I thought you would contribute to the happiness of my
child. But all this love would turn to hatred, were I assured that what
I so much apprehend is true."

"God forbid that any act or thought of mine should lead to such a
change!" exclaimed the young man, whose eye never quailed under the
penetrating look it encountered. Without adverting to the impossibility
of the other's comprehending those feelings which were hid in his
own bosom, Munro suffered himself to be appeased by the unaltered
countenance he met, and with a voice sensibly softened, he continued:

"You would be my son, Duncan, and you're ignorant of the history of the
man you wish to call your father. Sit ye down, young man, and I will
open to you the wounds of a seared heart, in as few words as may be
suitable."

By this time, the message of Montcalm was as much forgotten by him who
bore it as by the man for whose ears it was intended. Each drew a chair,
and while the vetera