deepest concern to Jobson that the grave of
Eustace was not pointed out and adorned with similar honours. He began
to conceive an implacable aversion to Dr. Lloyd for not having given him
a public interment. "Is it not enough," said he to De Vallance, "to make
poor Mr. Eustace walk? One of these gentlemen, to be sure, was a fine
corny-faced cavalier, who paid for many a jug of Welsh ale that I drank
to His Majesty's health, and the other was a stout desperate lieutenant,
that would fight and swear with any body; but not one of them was half
so handsome, sweet-speaking, well-born a gentleman as Mr. Eustace."

De Vallance did not apprehend that posthumous honours soothed the
separated spirit; and had he not been standing on the awful spot which
consummated his father's crimes, he would have smiled at the retention
of these old pagan ideas respecting the state of the departed. He
questioned the by-standers whether any thing was known respecting the
interment of young Evellin. Some said there was a private funeral
huddled up in a strange way; but an old woman whispered that it was
suspected the Doctor had made him into a skeleton, and being troubled in
conscience afterwards for the wicked act had fled the country. Absurd as
this suggestion was, it suited the pre-conceived prejudices of Jobson,
and in future afforded De Vallance some relief, by diverting part of his
companion's curses to another object than Lord Bellingham; for in
Jobson's estimation there was little difference between the General who
condemned, and the surgeon who dissected his master. Nor was he
satisfied about Fido's safety, when he found Dr. Lloyd had been
particularly careful to take the spaniel with him. "Ah, the bloody
knave," said he, "I know he will cut the poor dog up in his experiments,
as he calls them, and then sell his skin. That Doctor is a Jew to the
back-bone. If I had gone to him with my lame knee, he would have had my
leg off directly to put in pickle, and have made me wear a wooden one
instead of it. But sweet Isabel fomented it till it was well, and now I
can ride on horseback as well as ever. Bless her kind heart! I do hope
she and Your Honour will come together at last. Aye, and I know she
wishes so too. 'Jobson,' said she, as she bade me farewel, 'if ever you
can serve the worthy son of a wicked father, do it for my sake.'"

The reflections of De Vallance on the mysterious circumstances of
Eustace's interment took a different train fr