The old man sighed when he thought of all this, and covered his face with his hands. He was thinking who would now come after him; thinking of his heir. He knew who it must be. The Woodlea estates had been entailed by his father in the event of his having no children, beyond him. The late Mr. Temple had left two sons, Phillip, the heir, and John, who had gone into the army and died young. But he had married, and left a son, also named John. This John Temple the squire knew was now the heir to Woodlea. He was a man of some thirty years old, and occasionally had visited his uncle, but no great intimacy had existed between them. John Temple had a fair fortune, and had not sought to increase it. He had been educated as a barrister, but he had never practiced. He had lived a good deal abroad, and led a roving life, it was said, but his uncle knew very little about him. He had had in truth small interest in him. But now all this was changed. His bright young son, his hope and pride, had passed away, and the old squire, sitting with his bowed head, knew that John Temple was his heir. CHAPTER II. THE MAYFLOWER. Three days later they carried young Phillip Temple to his grave, and the new heir came to Woodlea as a mourner. His uncle had written to John Temple to tell him of the sad and untimely death of his son, and John Temple had received the news with a little shrug. "Poor lad, what a pity, and he was such a fine boy," he said to the friend who was dining with him, when the squire's black-edged letter was placed in his hand. "But this will make a great difference to you?" answered his friend. It was then John Temple gave the little shrug. "It will give me a good many more thousands a year than I have now hundreds," he said, "but that will be about the only difference. The poor lad with his youth would have enjoyed the old man's money more than I shall. I am too old to believe in the pleasures of riches." "I am not, then," replied the friend enviously; "you can buy anything." "No," answered John Temple, and his brow darkened. He was a good-looking man, this new heir of Woodlea, tall and slender, and with a pair of keen gray eyes beneath his dark brows. He looked also fairly-well content with life, and took most things calmly, if not with absolute indifference. "I have been able to pay my way, and what more does a man want?" he said, presently, as his friend still harped on his new inheritance. "To be in debt is disgusting; I should work hard to keep out of it." "It is very difficult to keep out of it," was the reply he received. "You must cut your coat according to your cloth," answered John Temple, smiling. "Had I lived extravagantly I should now have been in debt, but I have not, and therefore I have no duns."