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.
"Don't tell Kate," he said.

"I won't see her; say I have gone upon business.