ear," I cried, overpowered by the alternative with which he
threatened me. "Give me the bliss of calling her mine, and I will follow
your wishes in all that concerns us thereafter."

"You will?" There was a sinister tone in this ejaculation that gave a
shock to my momentary complacency. But we are so made that an
anticipated evil affects us less than an immediate one; and remembering
that weeks must yet elapse, during which he or John Poindexter or even
myself might die, I said nothing, and he went icily on:

"I give you two months, alone and untrammelled. Then you are to bring
your bride to my house, there to hear my final decision. There is to be
no departure from this course. I shall expect you, Thomas; you and her.
You can say that you are going to make her acquainted with your
brother."

"I will be there," I murmured, feeling a greater oppression than when I
took the oath at my father's death-bed. "I will be there."

There was no answer. While I was repeating those four words, Felix
vanished.

* * * * *

LETTER XI.

DEAR FELIX:

Have a fresh draft made. I need cigars, clothes, and--a wedding ring.
But no, let me stop short there. We will be married without one, unless
you force it upon us. Eva's color is blue.

Very truly, Thomas.

ENTRY XVII.

To-day I wrote again to Felix. He is at home, must be, for I have
neither seen nor felt his presence since that fateful night. What did I
write? I don't remember. I seem to be living in a dream. Everything is
confused about me but Eva's face, Eva's smile. They are blissfully
clear. Sometimes I wish they were not. Were they confused amid these
shadows, I might have stronger hope of keeping my word to Felix. Now, I
shall never keep it. Eva once my wife, separation between us will become
impossible. John Poindexter is ill.

* * * * *

LETTER XII.

DEAR FELIX:

Congratulations: visits from my neighbors; all the eclat we could wish
or a true lover hate. The ring you sent fits as if made for her. I am
called in all directions by a thousand duties. I am on exhibition, and
every one's curiosity must be satisfied.

In haste, THOMAS.

ENTRY XVIII.

The wedding is postponed. John Poindexter is very ill. Pray God, Felix
hears nothing of this. He would come here; he would confront his enemy
on his bed of sickness. He would denounce him, and Eva would be lost to
me.

* * *