And yet his position in life was terribly changed since he had last stood there. He was no longer the acknowledged heir to whom all dependents paid deferential homage. He fancied that the old servants looked at him coldly, and that their greeting was the chilling welcome which is accorded to a poor relation. He had never done much to win affection or gratitude in the days of his prosperity. It may be that he remembered this now, and regretted it, not from any kindly impulse towards these people, but from a selfish annoyance at the chilling reception accorded him. "If ever I win back what I have lost, these pampered parasites shall suffer for their insolence," thought the young man, as he walked across the broad Gothic hall of the castle, escorted by the grave old butler. But he had not much leisure to think about his uncle's servants. Another and far more important person occupied his mind, and that person was his uncle's bride. "Lady Eversleigh is at home?" he asked, while crossing the hall. "Yes, sir; her ladyship is in the long drawing-room." The butler opened a ponderous oaken door, and ushered Reginald into one of the finest apartments in the castle. In the centre of this room, by the side of a grand piano, from which she had just risen, stood the new mistress of the castle. She was simply dressed in pale gray silk, relieved only by a scarlet ribbon twisted in the masses of her raven hair. Her beauty had the same effect upon Reginald Eversleigh which it exercised on almost all who looked at her for the first time. He was dazzled, bewildered, by the singular loveliness. "And this divinity--this goddess of grace and beauty, is my uncle's wife," he thought; "this is the street ballad-singer whom he picked up out of the gutter." For some moments the elegant and accomplished Reginald Eversleigh stood abashed before the calm presence of the nameless girl his uncle had married. Sir Oswald welcomed his nephew with perfect cordiality. He was happy, and in the hour of his happiness he could cherish no unkind feeling towards the adopted son who had once been so dear to him. But while ready to open his arms to the repentant prodigal, his intentions with regard to the disposition of his wealth had undergone no change. He had arrived, calmly and deliberately, at a certain resolve, and he intended to adhere to that decision. The baronet told his nephew this frankly in the first confidential conversation which they had after the young man's arrival at Raynham.