|THOUGH it was known that the earl's estates were forfeited, the confiscation had not yet taken place, and, consequently, the household still remained at Dilston. Ever since the execution they had been filled with superstitious dread. On the evening of that terrible day, most remarkable Northern Lights were seen, and the reflection of the crimson sky seemed to turn the water of the brook in the haunted glen to blood. Next day, a violent tempest occurred, accompanied by thunder and lightning. Several trees were blown down, and the finest oak in the park was struck--the trunk being completely shattered. All the household was now assembled to watch the funeral procession as it made its way slowly up the avenue. Groans and lamentations were heard when the hearse arrived at the gate, and the coffin was taken out, and conveyed to the little chapel. Not till this had been done did the countess and Dorothy enter the mansion. Completely prostrated, they strove to prepare themselves for the closing ceremonial that was to take place at midnight. A doleful place was Dilston during that day. Its inmates were bowed down with grief, and moved about like ghosts. All needful preparations for the interment were made by Newbiggin. The vault was opened. The coffin was laid upon a bier not far from the altar; and tapers were lighted around it. Many of the old servants and dependents, among whom were Nicholas Ribbleton and Nathan Blacklaw, went to the chapel to pray beside the body of their lord. Not till night did Charles Radclyffe appear at the castle. He sought out Dorothy and said to her: “I shall quit Dilston immediately after the interment. Will you go with me?” “I cannot leave Lady Derwentwater,” she replied. Nothing more was said. At midnight the little chapel was filled with the late earl's retainers. The countess and Dorothy knelt in front of the altar, and Charles Radclyffe and Newbiggin were stationed near the coffin. The solemn service was performed by Father Norham, and amid the tears of all present the last Lord of Derwentwater was laid with his ancestors. _Tantum valet Amor Regis et Patriæ._ THE END. End of Project Gutenberg's Preston Fight, by William Harrison Ainsworth