and
after that rite was over he returned with his cousin to the house.
There was no will to be read. The old squire had left no will, nor
was there anything belonging to him at the time of his death that he
could bequeath. The furniture in the house, the worn-out carpets and
old-fashioned chairs, belonged to Clara; but, beyond that, property
had she none, nor had it been in her father's power to endow her with
anything. She was alone in the world, penniless, with a conviction
on her own mind that her engagement with Frederic Aylmer must of
necessity come to an end, and with a feeling about her cousin which
she could hardly analyse, but which told her that she could not go to
his house in Norfolk, nor live with him at Belton Castle, nor trust
herself in his hands as she would into those of a real brother.

On the afternoon of the day on which her father had been buried, she
brought to him a letter, asking him to read it, and tell her what
she should do. The letter was from Lady Aylmer, and contained an
invitation to Aylmer Castle. It had been accompanied, as the reader
may possibly remember, by a letter from Captain Aylmer himself. Of
this she of course informed her cousin; but she did not find it to be
necessary to show the letter of one rival to the other. Lady Aylmer's
letter was cold in its expression of welcome, but very dictatorial
in pointing out the absolute necessity that Clara should accept the
invitation so given. "I think you will not fail to agree with me,
dear Miss Amedroz," the letter said, "that under these strange and
perplexing circumstances, this is the only roof which can, with
any propriety, afford you a shelter." "And why not the poor-house?"
she said, aloud to her cousin, when she perceived that his eye had
descended so far on the page. He shook his head angrily, but said
nothing; and when he had finished the letter he folded it and gave it
back still in silence. "And what am I to do?" she said. "You tell me
that I am to come to you for advice in everything."

"You must decide for yourself here."

"And you won't advise me. You won't tell me whether she is right?"

"I suppose she is right."

"Then I had better go?"

"If you mean to marry Captain Aylmer, you had better go."

"I am engaged to him."

"Then you had better go."

"But I will not submit myself to her tyranny."

"Let the marriage take place at once, and you will have to submit
only to his. I suppose you are prepared for that?"