had listened to the fears and the wishes and hopes that she had
expressed respecting the children.

At Matching, amidst the ruins of the old Priory, there is a parish
burying-ground, and there, in accordance with her own wish, almost
within sight of her own bedroom-window, she was buried. On the day
of the funeral a dozen relatives came, Pallisers and McCloskies,
who on such an occasion were bound to show themselves, as members
of the family. With them and his two sons the Duke walked across
to the graveyard, and then walked back; but even to those who
stayed the night at the house he hardly spoke. By noon the
following day they had all left him, and the only stranger in the
house was Mrs Finn.

On the afternoon of the day after the funeral the Duke and his
guest met, almost for the first time since the sad event. There
had been just a pressure of the hand, just a glance of compassion,
just some murmur of deep sorrow,--but there had been no real speech
between them. Now he had sent for her, and she went down to him in
the room in which he commonly sat at work. He was seated at his
table when she entered, but there was no book open before him, and
no pen ready to his hand. He was dressed of course in black. That,
indeed, was usual with him, but now the tailor by his funeral art
had added some deeper dye of blackness to his appearance. When he
rose and turned to her she thought that he had at once become an
old man. His hair was grey in parts, and he had never accustomed
himself to use that skill in managing his outside person by which
many men are able to preserve for themselves a look, if not of
youth, at any rate of freshness. He was thin, of an adust
complexion, and had acquired a habit of stooping which, when he