to me.
My rival took his defeat as might have been expected. He went raving
wild when Margaret told him, and had not help been within call I believe
he would have struck her in his frenzy. Then followed a prolonged
drunken spree, when he scoured the country roads at night like a fiend
escaped from hell, shouting his curses at the sky, and shooting his
revolver recklessly. I had never feared him, and made no especial effort
to avoid him in my nightly calls upon my fiancee But I was glad we
never met, for mischief most certainly would have ensued.

"Margaret and I were married quietly, and now comes some more news. You
know you have often spoken of your uncle Arthur's picture over the
mantel in the library, saying how sorry you were never to have known
him? He was several years my junior, and had been at college in the
East. He came home and met Margaret after she and I had confessed our
love. He at once conceived a violent affection for her, and when he
discovered he was too late to hope to win her, it went hard with him,
indeed. He stayed till after the wedding, and then went West, following
the lure of gold. For a few years we heard from him at intervals, then
his letters ceased, and today we do not know whether he lives or not. We
loved each other dearly, and it has always been a cross to me that I was
the innocent cause of his exile. I have made efforts to find him, but
they have all been futile.

"Brule Marston disappeared a few days after our wedding. It was told
that he took a boat at Louisville and went south, as far as New Orleans.
He was gone a short time only, and when he returned he brought with him
a woman. She was a quadroon, or a Creole, and she was exceedingly
handsome in a flashy, barbaric way. Marston had loaded her with costly
silks and jewels of all kinds, and introduced her as his wife. No one
believed this to be true, and doors were closed upon them everywhere. In
the course of a year a child was born to them, a son, who from his
cradle was christened Devil Marston, for such was the wicked heart of
Brule, his father, who worshiped nothing but his own passions, and made
an open mock of religion. Then came the war, and I went with the South.
Fearing to leave my young wife unprotected, I took her to her old home
in Virginia, and there she stayed safely until the bitter strife was
over, and there you were born. When we returned home a fearful tale of
horror awaited us. In a maniac fit of rage Brule Ma