“How did Mr. Dale occupy his time?” Everet inquired.
“With reading and writing. He had a choice library, the only luxury of which he was guilty; and he left piles of manuscripts, some of which were quite valuable, treating chiefly upon geology and ornithology. He had always been a great student of those subjects.”
“What became of his library and manuscripts?”
“One of the trustees of Richmond College claimed that they had been promised to that institution, and although there was no writing of any kind found after his death to verify that claim, the books and papers were all made over to the college.”
“What of his servant, Uncle Jake?”
“He died only a few months after his master. He lived on at the Hermitage in the same way, refusing to leave the place, and was found dead in his bed, one day, by some sportsmen, who stopped there to fill their canteens with water. He was buried there in the woods, the house was shut up, and has remained so ever since.”
“This Robert Dale was a relative of yours, wasn’t he, father?”
“Well, yes, I suppose he was, though the relationship is very distant. He was own cousin to my Uncle Jabez, who was my father’s half-brother, if you can make that out,” said Colonel Mapleson, laughing.
“Humph! There was another family of Dales, who lived somewhere in this region, if I remember right, that is, I remember hearing something about them,” Everet remarked, after another pause.
Colonel Mapleson bent a look of questioning surprise on his son.