to Collingwood--not where Lucy used to live, and where the boy was
born."

So they came back again and made for themselves a home on the
shore of the silvery lake so famed in song, where they hoped to
rest from their weary journeyings. But it was not so decreed.
Slowly as poison works within the blood, a fearful blight was
stealing upon the noble, uncomplaining Richard, who had sacrificed
his early manhood to his father's fancies, and when at last the
blow had fallen and crushed him in its might, he became as
helpless as a little child, looking to others for the aid he had
heretofore been accustomed to render. Then it was that the weak
old man emerged for a time from beneath the cloud which had
enveloped him so long, and winding his arms around his stricken
boy, said, submissively, "What will poor Dick have me do?"

"Go to Collingwood, where I know every walk and winding path, and
where the world will not seem so dreary, for I shall be at home."

The father had not expected this, and his palsied hands shook
nervously; but the terrible misfortune of his son had touched a
chord of pity, and brought to his darkened mind a vague
remembrance of the years in which the unselfish Richard had
thought only of his comfort, and so he answered sadly, "We will go
to Collingwood."

One week more, and it was known in Shannondale, that crazy Captain
Harrington and his son, the handsome Squire Richard, were coming
again to the old homestead, which was first to be fitted up in a
most princely style. All through the summer months the extensive