er, architect, decorator, or furnisher, every man was an artist in
his own speciality. The work within and without was to be a perfect work
at whatever cost of time, money, and labor.

At length, at the end of ten years from its commencement, the work was
completed.

And for the sublimity of its scenery, the beauty of its grounds, the
almost tropical luxuriance of its gardens, the magnificence of its
buildings, the splendor of its decorations, and the luxury of its
appointments, Lone was unequalled.

What if the mad duke had nearly ruined himself in raising it?

Lone was henceforth the pride of engineers, the model of architects, the
subject of artists, the theme of poets, the Mecca of pilgrims, the eighth
wonder of the world.

Lone was opened for the first time a few weeks after its completion, on
the occasion of the coming of age of the duke's eldest son and heir, the
young Marquis of Arondelle, which fell upon the first of June.

A grand festival was held at Lone, and a great crowd assembled to do
honor to the anniversary. A noble and gentle company filled the halls and
chambers of the castle, and nearly all the Clan Scott assembled on the
grounds.

The festival was a grand triumph.

Among the thousands present were certain artists and reporters of the
press, and so it followed that the next issue of the _London News_
contained full-page pictures of Castle Lone and Inch Lone, with their
terraces, parterres, arches, arbors and groves; Loch Lone, with its
elegant piers, bridges and boats; and the surrounding mountains, with
their caves, grottoes, falls and fountains.

Yes, the birthday festival was a perfect triumph, and the fame of Lone
went forth to the uttermost ends of the earth. The English Colonists at
Australia, Cape of Good Hope, and New Zealand, read all about it in
copies of the _London News_, sent out to them by thoughtful London
friends. We remember the day, some years since, when we, sitting by our
cottage fire, read all about it in an illustrated paper, and pondered
over the happy fate of those who could live in paradise while still on
earth. Five years later, we would not have changed places with the
Duke of Hereward.

But this is a digression.

The duke was in his earthly heaven; but was the duke happy, or even
content?

Ah! no. He was overwhelmed with debt. Even Lone was mortgaged as deeply
as it could be--that is, as to the extent of the duke's own life
interests in the estate. Beyond