father were to be found in England; and Master Arthur was laid in the
family vault, under our old parish church, before the intelligence
reached them. Lady Catherine came back in deep mourning, and alone,
but not a whit subdued in spirit: she had been heard to say, that her
son was better dead than disgraced; and her estate was at least safe
from being shared by peasants. Of her daughter-in-law, she never took
the slightest notice. People said, the poor young widow's heart was
broken, for she had thought more of Arthur than of his rank and
property, and kept well out of the proud, hard woman's way. Her
ladyship did not seem to like living at the castle; she stayed only to
regulate matters with the factor at Martinmas, and went back again to
London. Before she went, a report began to rise, that poor Menie had
drooped and pined into a real sickness. They said it was a rapid
decline, and a dog would have pitied the father and mother's grief.
How strangely they strove to keep that only child, asking the prayers
of the congregation, and sending for the best doctors; but all was in
vain, for Menie died some days before Christmas. The girl had a simple
wish to rest beside Arthur. It was the last words she spoke; and her
relations believed that, being his wife, she had a right to a place in
the vault without asking anybody's leave. So they laid her quietly
beside her husband, no one about the castle caring to interfere,
except the factor, who thought it incumbent on him to let her ladyship
know.

By way of answer to his letter, down came Lady Catherine herself, one
dark, wintry morning; and, without so much as changing her travelling
dress, she sent for four labourers, took them with her to the church,
and saying her family burying-place was never intended for a peasant's
daughter, made them take out Menie's coffin, and leave it at her
parents' door. They said that the old pair never got over that sight;