Back of this there was a smaller apartment, probably the servants’ quarters, and on the opposite side of the hall there were two similar rooms. In the front one there stood a plain but solid desk, and a large arm-chair before it. Near it was an iron safe, but the door was swung partly open, and Everet could see that it was empty, and he thought that it had probably been used as a receptacle for the valuable manuscript of which his father had spoken. A couple of book-cases, reaching from floor to ceiling, had been built into the wall upon two sides of the room, like the dresser in the kitchen. Back of this there was another bedroom, its only furniture consisting of a single bedstead of iron. The walls were all of rough stone, the crevices being filled in with cement, while all the floors were of red brick, laid in zigzag pattern. The furniture was of solid oak, but plain to clumsiness, and everything about the place betrayed how utterly indifferent to the comforts and elegancies of life the owner had been, and Everet could not help contrasting it with the luxuries that were stored away in that little cottage which he had visited only a few days previous. The book-cases alone possessed any claim to elegance. They were also of oak, like the other articles of furniture, but somewhat ornamented, and glazed with heavy plate glass, showing how tenderly the recluse had guarded the books that he had loved so well. There was a spacious fire-place at one end of the room, in which there were a pair of rude andirons, and a clumsy pair of tongs, with a shovel, stood beside it. The apartment was light and pleasant, for there were four windows in it—two on the front, which looked toward the east, and two more on the south. It was just the nook for a student and a recluse, and, in spite of its isolation from all the world, there was a sort of charm about the place, even to the gay and society-loving Everet Mapleson. At the back of the house there was a small wooden structure, now fast falling to decay, and a yard fenced in, where, evidently, Robert Dale had kept his one horse, cow, and hens, while beyond this there was a patch of cleared ground, which, doubtless, had once been a kitchen garden. Everet sat down in the great chair before the desk, after completing his round of investigation, and fell to musing upon what he had seen. He tried to imagine what the appearance of Robert Dale had been—what his temperament and disposition. Bitter and vindictive he must have been, to have so hated his brother that he allowed him to die in poverty, and his family to struggle on for years afterward for a mere pittance, while he had thousands lying idle and useless; surly and churlish, too, he surmised, to have hidden himself away from all society there in the depths of the forest.