It was a large and elegant building, unique in its architecture and adornments, and furnished with the most exquisite taste. It was a home of exceeding beauty, but, with all its costliness and splendor, it was a dreary and lonely home, for its master lived alone, with only his servants for companions. No loving smile from a tender and affectionate wife greeted him when he came; no watchful eyes or listening ears waited to catch the shadow of his form, or the sound of his footsteps; no prattling voices made the lofty rooms ring with their joy and merriment, or sang out the glad word “papa” at his approach. No, it was a dreary life of lonely splendor. I said he lived alone; but not alone all of the time, for his nephew, Ralph Moulton, a youth of seventeen, made his uncle’s mansion his home, and was always there to spend his holidays. The squire had brought him home when he came from abroad, and when the boy was very young, merely saying he was his nephew and would always remain with him. He gave him every advantage, which, to the lad’s credit be it said, he eagerly improved, and he was now preparing for college. He was a clever, active youth, very attractive in form and feature, and when nothing went wrong was pleasant and agreeable. But when in a passion he displayed the same sinister emotions that moved his uncle. He was selfish and cruel at heart, aiming only to gratify his own desires and passions, in spite of all opposition. Report said that he was to inherit the squire’s property, indeed he had been brought to believe so himself, and the world bowed down in reverence and humility accordingly. He was now at home on a few days’ vacation. The squire, on entering his mansion, after the departure of the children, proceeded in deep thought to his library again. When here he violently pulled a bell-rope, and then seated himself in a large easy-chair, burying his face in his hands. Presently the massive door swung softly open, and a servant stood respectfully awaiting his commands. Squire Moulton raised his head and said, in a harsh voice: “Is Master Ralph in?” “No, sir,” replied the man, “he went fishing this morning, and has not yet returned.” “Well, send him immediately to me on his return. You may go.” With an humble bow the man disappeared. Half an hour, perhaps more, elapsed, when the sound of whistling was heard in the hall, and immediately the door opened again, and the young man in question entered. He was dressed with exquisite neatness, and very gentlemanly in bearing and manners. “Well, uncle, John told me I was wanted here, so I came as soon as I could get off some of the fish smell—such mean luck I never had before,” he said, a vexed look coming into his handsome face at the remembrance. “I did wish to see you, Ralph; be seated, for I have much to say to you.” The young man obeyed, inwardly wondering what was coming.