The House of Mammon by Fred M. White

For centuries past the watch-towers of Laurisdale Castle had been a beacon light for the fishermen far out at sea. It was one of the family traditions that the lights should always be kept burning, and they flame to this day. The castle had figured largely in history; in every great event from the time of the Roses a Laurisdale had taken part. There had been a period when the estate extended for miles along the coast and people had spoken of its lord with bated breath and whispering humbleness. The grand old castle still stood in all its beauty and majesty of outline; here were the hanging wood and the fine old garden, the glass-houses and the park, where the deer rambled knee-deep in the bracken.

But the estate was sadly curtailed now, and the coverts were empty, for two generations of Laurisdale had been busy in an attempt to dissipate a magnificent property. The present head of the family hardly ever came there--he was too absorbed in the allurements of London and the delights of a theatre of his own. For a year or so after his marriage the tenants saw a good deal of him, but of late he had absented himself entirely, though Lady Laurisdale seemed devoted to the place. She seemed to care nothing for the London season, but, as a matter of fact, was hard to it to keep matters going. The idea of a house in town was out of the question.