"How swiftly the years have chased each other since I came back home with you and your mother! And how I have wished them back again--those short, sweet years which followed your coming, when Margaret, you and I lived in perfect unity, and peace, and love. But change is the order of the universe, and we must take it when it comes, bravely, if so be God gives us grace, and fit ourselves to meet the new needs.
"Brule Marston died upon a night of awful storm. It seemed as if the cohorts of Satan had assembled to escort his foul soul to the realms of the lost. I will tell you now what I learned later, and I pray you to be brave, my child, and do not fear. The only training which Brule Marston instilled into his son was hatred of us. He never sought to teach him any good thing, or any worthy precept. His eternal and ceaseless injunction was hate, hate, hate. He never forgot the fact that I had robbed him of the pure being he had set his black heart on possessing, and revenge was the only feeling he harbored. Had he lived long enough I believe that in the end he would have wrought us some great harm, for I am assured that was his sole aim and desire. But death found him in the midst of his machinations, and stilled his hand. Devil Marston was an apt pupil, and he readily imbibed his father's teachings. By birth he was well fitted for any scurrilous task or duty, and he has always found joy in causing pain. On that night of storm when old Brule died he called his son to his bedside, and laid upon him his dying wish. It was that Devil Marston should make it his life's work to harass and oppress us, and at last to ruin us utterly, using his entire fortune for that purpose should it become necessary. It is needless for me to tell you the son was not slow to make the promise. It was a task entirely congenial to his nature. You have never been aware of it, my child, but he has had designs upon your happiness, knowing well that through you he could inflict the deepest pain upon me. You of course remember when he was at our home frequently, when we accorded him the courtesy due any one under our roof, while never extending him a welcome, or making him feel that his presence was desired. He always endeavored to be pleasant, but it transpired later that this was acting only; a mask for his true feelings. He often sought to be alone with you, but I could not trust the blood, worse mixed than ever in this man, and I always managed the situation so that I should be present also. This annoyed him, and he could not always hide his resentment--it would flame through the veil of decency he tried to wear with us. I did all in my power to discourage him from coming here, without asking him in so many words to stay away, but he had set his soul upon accomplishing a certain thing, and he would lose his soul rather than lose his project. Then came the night, not long ago, after which his visits ceased."