arise from my being so far from well at the time, which produced
a diseased mind in a diseased body; but I was absolutely jealous for my
father's memory, when I saw how many signs of grief there were for my
lord's death, he having done next to nothing for the village and parish,
which now changed, as it were, its daily course of life, because his
lordship died in a far-off city. My father had spent the best years of
his manhood in labouring hard, body and soul, for the people amongst whom
he lived. His family, of course, claimed the first place in his heart;
he would have been good for little, even in the way of benevolence, if
they had not. But close after them he cared for his parishioners, and
neighbours. And yet, when he died, though the church-bells tolled, and
smote upon our hearts with hard, fresh pain at every beat, the sounds of
every-day life still went on, close pressing around us,--carts and
carriages, street-cries, distant barrel-organs (the kindly neighbours
kept them out of our street): life, active, noisy life, pressed on our
acute consciousness of Death, and jarred upon it as on a quick nerve.

And when we went to church,--my father's own church,--though the pulpit
cushions were black, and many of the congregation had put on some humble
sign of mourning, yet it did not alter the whole material aspect of the
place. And yet what was Lord Ludlow's relation to Hanbury, compared to
my father's work and place in--?

O! it was very wicked in me! I think if I had seen my lady,--if I had
dared to ask to go to her, I should not have felt so miserable, so
discontented. But she sat in her own room, hung with black, all, even
over the shutters. She saw no light but that which was
artificial--candles, lamps, and the like--for more than a month. Only
Adams went near her. Mr. Gray was not admitted, though he called daily.
Even Mrs. Medlicott did not see her for near a fortnight. The sight of
my lady's griefs, or rather the recollection of it, made Mrs. Medlicott
talk far more than was her wont. She told us, with many tears, and much
gesticulation, even speaking German at times, when her English would not
flow, that my lady sat there, a white figure in the middle of the
darkened room; a shaded lamp near her, the light of which fell on an open
Bible,--the great family Bible. It was not open at any chapter or
consoling verse; but at the page whereon were registered the births of
her nine children. Five had d