CHAPTER IV.
FELIX.
Meanwhile there was another secret struggle going on in the depth of anature from which all sympathy was excluded both by the temperament ofthe person concerned and the circumstances surrounding him.
I can but hint at it. Some tragedies lie beyond the ken of man, and thisone we can but gather from stray scraps of torn-up letters addressed tono one and betraying their authorship only through the writer's hand.They were found long after the mystery of Felix Cadwalader's death hadbeen fully accounted for, tucked away under the flooring of Bartow'sroom. Where or how procured by him, who can tell?
* * * * *
"Madness!
"I have seen Eva Poindexter again, and heaven and hell have contendedfor me ever since. Eva! Eva! the girl I thought of only as our prey. Thegirl I have given to my brother. She is too lovely for him: she is toolovely for any man unless it be one who has never before thrilled to anywoman's voice, or seen a face that could move his passions or awaken hisaffection. Is it love I feel? Can I, Felix, who have had but onethought, known but one enthusiasm, retain in this breast of iron a spothowever secret, however small, which any woman, least of all hisdaughter, could reach? Never! I am the prey of frenzy or the butt ofdevils. Yet only the inhabitants of a more celestial sphere brightenaround me when I think of those half-raised eyes, those delicatelyparted lips, so devoid of guile, that innocent bearing, and the divinetenderness, mingled with strength, by which she commands admiration andawakens love. I must fly. I must never see her again. Thomas's purposeis steady. He must never see that mine rocks like an idol smitten by athunderbolt.
"If Thomas had not been reared in Paris, he too--But I am the only weakone. Curses on my----
"Did I say I would fly? I cannot, not yet. One more glimpse of her face,if only to satisfy myself that I have reason for this madness. Perhaps Iwas but startled yesterday to find a celestial loveliness where Iexpected to encounter pallid inanity. If my emotion is due to my ownweakness rather than to her superiority, I had better recognize my follybefore it proves my destruction.
I will stay and----
Thomas will not, shall not----
dexter's daughter----
hate, hate for Thom----
"My self-esteem is restored. I have seen her again--him--they weretogether--there was true love in his eye--how could I expect him not tolove her--and I was able to hide my anguish and impose his duty on him.She loves him--or he thinks so--and the work goes on. But I will notstay to watch its accomplishment. No, no.
"I told him my story to-night, under the guise of a past experience. Oh,the devils must laugh at us men! They have reason to. Sometimes I wonderif my father in the clearness of his new vision does not join them intheir mirth.
"Home with my unhappy secret! Home, where nothing comes to distract mefrom my gnawing griefs and almost intolerable thoughts. I walk thefloors. I cry aloud her name. I cry it even under the portrait ofEvelyn. There are moments when I am tempted to write to Thomas--toforbid him----
"Eva! Eva! Eva! Every fibre in my miserable body utters the one word.But no man shall ever know. Thomas shall never know how the thought ofher fills my days and nights, making my life a torment and thefuture----
"I wait for his letters (scanty they are and cold) as the doomedcriminal awaits his executioner. Does she really love him? Or will thatexquisite, that soulful nature call for a stronger mate, a moreconcentrated temperament, a--a----
"I thought I saw in one of my dark hours my father rising up from hisgrave to curse me. Oh! he might curse on if----
"What have I said about no man knowing? Bartow knows. In his dumbness,his deafness, he has surprised my secret, and shows that he has done soby his peering looks, his dissatisfied ways, and a jealousy at which Icould shout aloud in mirth, if I were not more tempted to shriek aloudin torment. A dumb serving-man, picked up I have almost forgotten where,jealous of my weakness for John Poindexter's daughter! He was neverjealous of my feeling for Evelyn. Yet till the day I dared fate byseeking out and looking for the second time upon the woman whose charmsI had scorned, her name often resounded through these rooms, and my eyesdwelt upon but one spot, and that was where her picture hangs in thewoeful beauty which has become my reproach.
"I have had a great surprise. The starling, which has been taught tomurmur Evelyn's name, to-day shrieked out, 'Eva! Eva!' My first impulsewas to wring its neck, my next to take it from its cage and hide it inmy bosom. But I did neither. I am still a man.
"Bartow will wring that bird's neck if I do not. This morning I caughthim with his hand on the cage and a murderous light in his eye, which Ihad no difficulty in understanding. Yet he cannot hear the word thewretched starling murmurs. He only knows it is a word, a name, and he isdetermined to suppress it. Shall I string the cage up out of this oldfellow's reach? His deafness, his inability to communicate with others,the exactness with which he obeys my commands as given him by my coloredslides, his attention to my every wish, consequent upon his almostanimal love for my person, are necessary to me now, while the bird--Ah!there it goes again, 'Eva! Eva!'
"Is it hate or love I feel, abhorrence or passion? Love would seek tosave, but I have no thought of saving her, since she has acknowledgedher love for Thomas, and since he--Oh, it is not now for Evelyn's sake Iplan revenge, but for my own! These nights and days of torture--therevelation I have had of my own nature--the consent I was forced to giveto a marriage which means bliss to them and anguish beyond measure tome--all this calls for vengeance, and they will not escape, these two. Ihave laid my plans deep. I have provided for every contingency. It hastaken time, thought, money. But the result is good. If they cross thethreshold of my circular study, they must consent to my will or perishhere, and I with them. Oh, they shall never live and be happy! Thomasneed not think it. John Poindexter need not think it! I might haveforgotten the oath made on my father's crossed arms, but I will neverforget the immeasurable griefs of these past months or the humiliationthey have brought me. My own weakness is to be avenged--my unheard-of,my intolerable weakness. Remember Evelyn? Remember Felix! Ah, again!Eva! Eva! Eva!"