* *

LETTER XIII.

DEAR FELIX:

Eva is not pleased with the arrangements which have been made for our
wedding. John Poindexter likes show; she does not. Which will carry the
day?

Yours aff., THOMAS.

ENTRY XIX.

Mr. Poindexter is better, but our plans will have to be altered. We now
think we will be married quietly, possibly in New York.

* * * * *

LETTER XIV.

DEAR FELIX:

A compromise has been effected. The wedding will be a quiet one, but not
celebrated here. As you cannot wish to attend it, I will not mention the
place or hour of my marriage, only say that on September 27th at 4
P. M. you may expect my wife and myself at your house.

Aff., THOMAS.

ENTRY XX.

We have decided to be married in New York. Mr. Poindexter needs the
change, and Eva and I are delighted at the prospect of a private
wedding. Then we will be near Felix, but not to subject ourselves to his
will. Oh, no!

* * * * *

ENTRY XXI.

Married! She is mine. And now to confront Felix with my determination to
hold on to my happiness. How I love her, and how I pity him! John
Poindexter's wickedness is forgotten, Evelyn but a fading memory. The
whole world seems to hold but three persons--Eva, Felix, and myself. How
will it end? We meet at his home to-morrow.

CHAPTER IV.

FELIX.

Meanwhile there was another secret struggle going on in the depth of a
nature from which all sympathy was excluded both by the temperament of
the person concerned and the circumstances surrounding him.

I can but hint at it. Some tragedies lie beyond the ken of man, and this
one we can but gather from stray scraps of torn-up letters addressed to
no one and betraying their authorship only through the writer's hand.
They were found long after the mystery of Felix Cadwalader's death had
been fully accounted for, tucked away under the flooring of Bartow's
room. Where or how procured by him, who can tell?

* * * * *

"Madness!

"I have seen Eva Poindexter again, and heaven and hell have contended
for me ever since. Eva! Eva! the girl I thought of only as our prey. The
girl I have given to my brother. She is too lovely for him: she is too
lovely for any man unless it be one who has never before thrilled to any
woman's voice, or seen a face that could move his passions or awaken his
affection. Is it love I feel? Can I, Felix, who have had bu