he firm was
Fabian Rockharrt, a fine animal of fifty years old, though scarcely
looking forty. He had inherited all his father's great strength of body
and of mind, with more than his father's business talent; but he had
not inherited the truth and honesty of his father.

Yet there is no one wholly evil, and Fabian Rockharrt's one redeeming
quality was a certain good nature or benevolence which is more the
result of temperament than of principle. This quality rendered his
manner so kind and considerate to all his employes that he was the most
popular member of his family.

Clarence, the second son, was much younger than his elder brother, and
so diametrically opposite to him and to their father, both in person and
character, that he scarcely seemed to come of the same race.

He was really thirty-five years old, but looked ten years less, and was
a fair blonde, medium-sized and plump, with a round head covered with
light, curling yellow hair, a round, rosy face as bare as a baby's and
almost as innocent. He had not the satanic intellect of his father or
his brother, but he had a fine moral and spiritual nature that neither
could understand or appreciate.

There were yet two other exceptions to the family character of
worldliness and selfishness. There were Corona and Sylvanus Haught, a
sister and brother, orphan grand-children of Aaron Rockharrt, left him
by his deceased only daughter. Sylvanus, a fine, manly young fellow,
resembled his Uncle Clarence in person and in character, having the same
truthfulness, generosity and sincerity, but with a mocking spirit, which
turned evil into ridicule rather than into a subject of serious rebuke.
He was three years younger than his sister. Corona was a beautiful
brunette, tall, like all the Rockharrts, with a superbly developed form,
a fine head, adorned with a full suit of fine curly black hair, delicate
classic features, straight, low forehead, aquiline nose, a "Cupid's bow"
mouth, and finely curved chin. This was her wedding-day and she wore
her bridal dress of pure white satin, with veil of thread lace and
wreath of orange buds. Hers was the very triumph of a love match, for
she was about to wed one whom she had loved from earliest childhood, and
for whom she had waited long years.

Here was Corona Haught's great victory. She had seen his opponents, her
own family, bow down and worship her idol. Yet, at the culmination of
her triumph, on this her bridal day, why did she s