ager to bring theory into
practice, fraternized with the tenant farmers, and visited families
from whom his father shrunk in aristocratic dread.

There was little doubt that in those days Ronald Earl believed himself
called to a great mission. He dreamed of the time when the barriers of
caste would be thrown down, when men would have equal rights and
privileges, when the aristocracy of intellect and virtue would take
precedence of noble birth, when wealth would be more equally
distributed, and the days when one man perished of hunger while another
reveled in luxury should cease to be. His dreams were neither exactly
Liberal nor Radical; they were simply Utopian. Even then, when he was
most zealous, had any one proposed to him that he should inaugurate the
new state of things, and be the first to divide his fortune, the
futility of his theories would have struck him more plainly. Mingling
in good society, the influence of clever men and beautiful women would,
Lord Earle believed, convert his son in time. He did not oppose him,
knowing that all opposition would but increase his zeal. It was a
bitter disappointment to him, but he bore it bravely, for he never
ceased to hope.

A new trouble was dawning for Lord Earle, one far more serious than the
Utopian dream of his son; of all his sorrows it was the keenest and the
longest felt. Ronald fell in love, and was bent on marrying a simple
rustic beauty, the lodge keeper's daughter.

Earlescourt was one of the fairest spots in fair and tranquil England.
It stood in the deep green heart of the land, in the midst of one of
the bonny, fertile midland counties.

The Hall was surrounded by a large park, where the deer browsed under
the stately spreading trees, where there were flowery dells and knolls
that would charm an artist; a wide brook, almost broad and deep enough
to be called a river, rippled through it.

Earlescourt was noted for its trees, a grand old cedar stood in the
middle of the park; the shivering aspen, the graceful elm, the majestic
oak, the tall, flowering chestnut were all seen to greatest perfection
there.

Art had done much, Nature more, to beautify the home of the Earles.
Charming pleasure gardens were laid out with unrivaled skill; the
broad, deep lake was half hidden by the drooping willows bending over
it, and the white water lilies that lay on its tranquil breast.

The Hall itself was a picturesque, gray old building, with turrets
covered wi