Colonel Mapleson and his wife returned from Newport about the same time, and both wondered what could have occurred to change their son thus in so short a time. Mrs. Mapleson attributed it to his hopeless attachment to the beautiful girl whom she had seen at Yale, and for whom Everet had confessed his love; but she could not get one word from him on the subject, although she had tried to gain his confidence upon several occasions. “Father,” said the young man, coming into the library one morning, after the household had settled into its usual routine, “while you were away I visited the Hermitage, and made a singular discovery there.” “Ah! I imagined everything of a singular character had disappeared from that place when Robert Dale departed this life. What was the nature of your discovery, pray?” Colonel Mapleson remarked, looking up from the newspaper that he was reading, and removing his spectacles. Everet described his visit to the place, told of his energetic blow upon the desk and its results, and then produced the package of certificates and the picture which he had found, to prove his statements. “Well, this _is_ a singular discovery, I confess,” said his father, when he had finished. “Let me have a look at that picture.” He held out his hand, and upon receiving it he turned to the light to examine it. “Yes, this must be a likeness of Mrs. Dale; it resembles her strikingly, although she was greatly changed, and this must have been taken many years previous to my acquaintance with her.” “Then you knew her?” said his son. “Oh, yes; I’ve eaten many a fine cookie baked by her hands during my boyhood,” replied Colonel Mapleson, musingly. “Poor Robert Dale! so he treasured his love for her as long as he lived!” “And he has left all his money to her daughter,” said Everet, touching the package of certificates that lay on the table. “It would have been more to the purpose if he had given the family some of it while they were suffering the stings of poverty,” Colonel Mapleson remarked, his attention still riveted upon the picture. “Did you know the daughter?” Everet inquired. “Yes; I had some acquaintance with her.” “Were they so very poor?” “Well, they had a pretty hard time of it, I reckon, for a while; but I did not realize it at the time, for I was very young, only visited Uncle Jabez during my vacation; you know he sent me to Baltimore to school. Uncle Jabez gave them a cottage rent free, and gave them something besides to help eke out a small annuity that Mrs. Dale had, and that was all they had to live upon until they opened a small private school. After I came into possession of the estate I allowed them to remain in the cottage, the same as before, although they would not accept from me the money that they had received from Uncle Jabez; they were very proud.” “Then that cottage belongs to you?” Everet remarked. “Yes.” “Has it ever been occupied since the Dales left it?” “No.” “To whom does the furniture belong?”