erself so intensely and disagreeably
officious that his patience was sorely tried. Her first act was to insist
on a stately funeral. He had given orders for one plain and quiet in
every way; but she would have her wish carried out, and raved about the
house, abusing him for his meanness and want of respect to his dead wife.
For peace' sake, he was fain to give her her way; and the funeral was
made as costly as she pleased. Thomas Carr came down to it; and the
countess-dowager was barely civil to him.

Her next care was to assume the entire management of the two children,
putting Lord Hartledon's authority over them at virtual, if not actual,
defiance. The death of her daughter was in truth a severe blow to the
dowager; not from love, for she really possessed no natural affection at
all, but from fear that she should lose her footing in the house which
was so desirable a refuge. As a preliminary step against this, she began
to endeavour to make it more firm and secure. Altogether she was
rendering Hartledon unbearable; and Val would often escape from it,
his boy in his hand, and take refuge with Mrs. Ashton.

That Lord Hartledon's love for his children was intense there could be no
question about; but it was nevertheless of a peculiarly reticent nature.
He had rarely, if ever, been seen to caress them. The boy told tales of
how papa would kiss him, even weep over him, in solitude; but he would
not give him so much as an endearing name in the presence of others. Poor
Maude had called him all the pet names in a fond mother's vocabulary;
Lord Hartledon always called him Edward, and nothing more.

A few evenings after the funeral had taken place, Mirrable, who had been
into Calne, was hurrying back in the twilight. As she passed Jabez Gum's
gate, the clerk's wife was standing at it, talking to Mrs. Jones. The two
were laughing: Mrs. Gum seemed in a less depressed state than usual, and
the other less snappish.

"Is it you!" exclaimed Mrs. Jones, as Mirrable stopped. "I was just
saying I'd not set eyes on you in your new mourning."

"And laughing over it," returned Mirrable.

"No!" was Mrs. Jones's retort. "I'd been telling of a trick I served
Jones, and Nance was laughing at that. Silk and crepe! It's fine to be
you, Mrs. Mirrable!"

"How's Jabez, Nancy?" asked Mirrable, passing over Mrs. Jones's
criticism.

"He's gone to Garchester," replied Mrs. Gum, who was given to indirect
answers. "I thought I was never going t