yet you put me in mind of him so strangely."

Then Bertram protested that she must mean my father, for that he had
been a captain in the --th, and had been stationed at York (as
Toronto was then called), but was badly wounded in repulsing the
American attack on the Lakes in 1814.

"Not dead?" she asked, with her cheeks getting pale, and a sort of
excitement about her, that made Bertram wonder, at the moment, if
there could have been any old attachment between them, and he
explained how my father was shipped off from England between life and
death; and how, when he recovered, he found his uncle dying, and the
title and property coming to him.

"And he married!" she said, with a bewildered look; and Bertram told
her that he had married Lady Mary Lupton--as his uncle and father had
wished--and how we four were their children. I can fancy how kindly
and tenderly Bertram would speak when he saw that she was anxious and
pained; and she took hold of his hand and held him, and when he said
something of mentioning that he had seen her, she cried out with a
sort of terror, "Oh no, no, Mr. Trevor, I beg you will not. Let him
think me dead, as I thought him. And then she drew down Bertram's
tall head to her, and fairly kissed his forehead, adding, "I could
not help it, sir; an old woman's kiss will do you no harm!"

Then he went away. He never did tell us of the meeting till long
after. He was not a great letter writer, and, besides, he thought my
father might not wish to have the flirtations of his youth brought up
against him. So we little knew!