"Grace," he said, looking utterly confounded, "what do you mean?"
I made him sit down, and told him what perhaps I should have told him long ago, my suspicions of that young Englishman. I told him I was certain Rose had been his daily visitor during those three weeks' illness up the village; that she had been passionately in love with him from the first, and that he was a villain and a traitor. A thousand things, too slight to recapitulate, but all tending to the same end, convinced me of it. He was changeful by nature. Rose's pretty piquant beauty bewitched him; and this was the end.
"I hope I may be mistaken," I said; "for Kate's sake I hope so, for she loves him with a love of which he is totally unworthy; but, I confess, I doubt it."
I cannot describe to you the anger of Captain Danton, and I pray I may never witness the like again. When men like him, quiet and good-natured by habit, do get into a passion, the passion is terrible indeed.
"The villain!" he cried, through his clenched teeth. "The cruel villain! I'll shoot him like a dog!"
I was frightened. I quail even now at the recollection, and the dread of what may come. I tried to quiet him, but in vain; he shook me off like a child.
"Let me, alone, Grace!" he said, passionately. "I shall never rest until I have sent a bullet through his brain!"
It was then half-past eleven; the train for Montreal passed through St. Croix at twelve. Captain Danton went out, and ordered round his gig, in a tone that made the stable-boy stare. I followed him to his room, and found him putting his pistols in his coat-pocket. I asked him where he was going, almost afraid to speak to him, his face was so changed.
"To Montreal first," was his answer; "to look for that matchless scoundrel; afterwards to Quebec, to blow out his brains, and those of my shameful daughter!"
I begged, I entreated, I cried. It was all useless. He would not listen to me; but he grew quieter.