an, as he shook my hand, "and be certain to let me see that
provision in it about Clawbonny, before I go west of the bridge, again.
Between relations _of the same name_, there should be no reserves in
such matters."

I scarce knew whether to smile or to look grave, at so strange a request;
but I did not change my determination on the subject of the will, itself:
feeling that justice required of me such a disposition of the property. I
confess there were moments when I distrusted the character of one who
could urge a claim of this nature in so plain a manner; and that, too, at
an instant when the contemplated contingency seemed the more probable from
the circumstance that death had so recently been among us.
Notwithstanding, there was so much frankness in my kinsman's manner, he
appeared to sympathize so sincerely in my loss, and his opinions were so
similar to my own, that these unpleasant twinges lasted but for brief
intervals. On the whole, my opinion was very favourable to John
Wallingford, and, as will be seen in the sequel, he soon obtained my
entire confidence.

After the departure of all my kindred, I felt, indeed, how completely I
was left alone in the world. Lucy passed the night at the rectory, to keep
her brother company, and good Mr. Hardinge, though _thinking_ he remained
with me to offer sympathy and consolation, found so many demands on his
time, that I saw but little of him. It is possible he understood me
sufficiently well to know that solitude and reflection, while the
appearance of the first was avoided, were better for one of my temperament
than any set forms of condolence. At any rate, he was at hand, while he
said but little to me on the subject of my loss.

At last I got through the day; and a long and dreary day it was to me. The
evening came, bland, refreshing, bringing with it the softer light of a
young moon. I was walking on the lawn, when the beauty of the night
brought Grace and her tastes vividly to my mind, and, by a sudden impulse,
I was soon swiftly walking towards her now silent grave. The highways
around Clawbonny were never much frequented; but at this hour, and so soon
after the solemn procession it had so lately seen, no one was met on the
road towards the church-yard. It was months, indeed, after the funeral,
that any of the slaves ventured into the latter by night; and, even during
the day, they approached it with an awe that nothing could have inspired
but the death of a Walli