lingwood.
Nobody claimed the remains of Rawdon, till old Mr. Newberry came
forward, and said he would take the shell in his waggon, with the woman
and the boy, and give it Christian burial in the plot back of the
Wesleyan church. "We can't tell," he said, "what passed between him and
his Maker when he was struggling for life. Gie un the bainifit o' the
doot." So, Ben and Serlizer rolled away with Bangs, and Nash's coffin;
and Matilda and her son accompanied Rawdon's remains, in Mr. Newberry's
waggon. At the same time, with the sad, grey-haired woman as chief
mourner, and Mrs. Carmichael beside her, a funeral procession passed
from Bridesdale to the post office, and thence to the English
churchyard, where old Styles and Sylvanus dug the double grave, around
which, in deep solemnity, stood the Captain and Mr. Terry, the minister
and the lawyer, while Mr. Perrowne read the service, and two victims of
Rawdon's crime and treachery were committed, earth to earth, dust to
dust, and ashes to ashes. Immediately the grave was covered in, the
doubly-bereaved woman slipped away, and was never again heard of. There
appeared no evidence, far or near, that she had done away with herself;
it was, therefore, concluded that she had a child or children elsewhere,
and had gone to hide the rest of her wasted life with them. The two
clergymen went their ways to their lodgings, and the Bridesdale party
walked silently and sorrowfully home.

Mr. Bigglethorpe wanted to go back with the Richards, so that he might
have another morning's fishing; but Mrs. Carruthers thought he had
better take Mr. Bangs' room, and nurse his eyes and other burned parts
before going home. Marjorie and her young cousins dragged him off, after
his green shade was put on, to the creek, and made him rig up rods and
lines for them in the shape of light-trimmed willow boughs, to which
pieces of thread were attached with bent pins at the other ends.
Fishing with these, baited with breadcrumbs, they secured quite a number
of chub and dace, and made the valley musical with their laughter at
each success or mishap, by the time the Bridesdale people returned from
the impromptu funeral. The Squire was busy in his office, looking over
Nash's legacy, preparatory to sending it to Bangs, who had begged him to
forward the documents without delay. The only thing of note he found
was, that Rawdon did not bank his money; he had no bank account
anywhere. Where did he stow away the fortun