ope had ever shown him, possibly because no
other limned face or form had ever appealed to his heart. It did not
seem a picture, it seemed her very self, a gentle, loving self that
breathed forth all the tenderness he had vainly sought for in his living
relatives; and falling at her feet, he cried out:

"Do not look at me so reproachfully, sweet Evelyn. I was born to avenge
you, and I will. John Poindexter shall never go down in peace to his
tomb."

A sigh of utter contentment came from the direction of the bed.

"Swear it!" cried his father, holding out his arms before him in the
form of a cross.

"Yes, swear it!" repeated Felix, laying his own hand on those crossed
arms.

Thomas drew near, and laid his hand beside that of Felix.

"I swear," he began, raising his voice above the tempest, which poured
gust after gust against the house. "I swear to win the affections of Eva
Poindexter, and then, when her heart is all mine, to cast her back in
anguish and contumely on the breast of John Poindexter."

"Good!" came from what seemed to him an immeasurable distance. Then the
darkness, which since the taking of this oath had settled over his
senses, fell, and he sank insensible at the feet of his dying father.

* * * * *

Amos Cadwalader died that night; but not without one awful scene more.
About midnight he roused from the sleep which had followed the exciting
incidents I have just related, and glancing from Thomas to Felix,
sitting on either side of the bed, fixed his eyes with a strange gleam
upon the door.

"Ah!" he ejaculated, "a visitor! John Poindexter! He comes to ask my
forgiveness before I set out on my dismal journey."

The sarcasm of his tone, the courtesy of his manner, caused the hair to
stir on the heads of his two sons. That he saw his enemy as plainly as
he saw them, neither could doubt.

"Does he dread my meeting with Evelyn? Does he wish to placate me before
I am joined to that pathetic shade? He shall not be disappointed. I
forgive you, John Poindexter! I forgive you my daughter's shame, my
blighted life. I am dying; but I leave one behind who will not forgive
you. I have a son, an avenger of the dead, who yet lives to--to----"

He fell back. With these words, which seemed to seal Thomas to his task,
Amos Cadwalader died.

CHAPTER III.

EVA.

Felix had not inherited his father's incapacity for making money. In the
twenty years that had passed sinc