as she could at any time, by the production of the late Baronet's will,
drive him ignominiously from his present luxurious abode. It is true, in
effecting this she would have to seek refuge in a foreign land, yet a
vindictive spirit will often, as the old adage runs, cut off the nose to
be revenged on the face.

Having gained the mastery of the position, she turned her thoughts in
the direction of the new Baronet with a view of inducing him to submit
to the matrimonial yoke and by that means establish herself as
Vellenaux's envied mistress with the prefix of Lady before her name.
However, she could afford to bide her time, feeling certain that in the
long run Sir Ralph would yield, her stronger will working on his fears.


The funeral was over. The family vault of the Coleman's in the quaint
old church, a little beyond the Park limits, had received the mortal
remains of the worthy man, who for forty years had attended divine
service within that sacred edifice where the last sad rite for the
departed had just been performed. It had been a solemn and imposing
ceremony. The cortege passed slowly and silently down the broad avenue
of venerable elms, through the Park gate and up the road leading to the
old church yard. The superbly mounted coffin, borne on its funeral
hearse, whose black plumes, undulated in the soft winds that sighed
through the trees, was drawn by six velvet palled horses, and
accompanied by mutes, pall bearers and others in all the solemn
paraphernalia of woe, followed by the mourning coaches, and the long
line of private carriages, some occupied and others empty, for by one of
the conventionalities of English well-bred society, one can be present
on such occasions by proxy. Your carriage will suffice, should you not
feel equal to the task of attending in person. The full, deep, rich