ushered into the dining-parlour of the defunct, where the company
were assembled for the funeral.

In Scotland the custom, now disused in England, of inviting the
relations of the deceased to the interment is universally
retained. On many occasions this has a singular and striking
effect, but it degenerates into mere empty form and grimace in
cases where the defunct has had the misfortune to live unbeloved
and die unlamented. The English service for the dead, one of the
most beautiful and impressive parts of the ritual of the church,
would have in such cases the effect of fixing the attention, and
uniting the thoughts and feelings of the audience present in an
exercise of devotion so peculiarly adapted to such an occasion.
But according to the Scottish custom, if there be not real feeling
among the assistants, there is nothing to supply the deficiency,
and exalt or rouse the attention; so that a sense of tedious form,
and almost hypocritical restraint, is too apt to pervade the
company assembled for the mournful solemnity. Mrs. Margaret
Bertram was unluckily one of those whose good qualities had
attached no general friendship. She had no near relations who
might have mourned from natural affection, and therefore her
funeral exhibited merely the exterior trappings of sorrow.

Mannering, therefore, stood among this lugubrious company of
cousins in the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth degree, composing
his countenance to the decent solemnity of all who were around
him, and looking as much concerned on Mrs. Margaret Bertram's
account as if the deceased lady of Singleside had been his own
sister or mother. After a deep and awful pause, the company began
to talk aside, under their breaths, however, and as if in the