She never looked at him, but she stepped backward a few paces and did not move again until the grave was filled, and her father—he who had so longed to come home that he might begin anew and make amends in part for his past life—was hidden forever from sight with all the dark catalogue of his sins unconfessed save as he had whispered them into the ear of the Most High when death sat on his pillow and counted his heart-beats. Meanwhile Phil, with his usual forethought, had interviewed his grandmother in an aside and suggested to her that as Reinette would undoubtedly prefer going alone with Mr. Beresford to her new home, the ladies should return to town in the carriage of the latter and call on his cousin the following day. Grandma, whose heart was set upon going to Hetherton Place, where she had not been since she was turned from its door by its enraged master, would have demurred at this arrangement were it not that her heavy crape was weighing her down, and making her long for the coolness of her own house and her thin “muslin.” As it was, she made no objection, and when it was time to go, she went to Reinette and said: “Phil thinks you’d ruther be alone the fust night home, and I guess he’s right, so if you’ll excuse your A’nt Liddy, and me and Anny, we’ll come early to-morrow and see you, and have a long talk about your mother. Good-by, and Heaven bless you, child.” While she was speaking Reinette looked steadily in her face, and something in its expression attracted more than it repelled her. It was a good, kind, honest face, and had seen her mother, and Reinette’s lip quivered as she held out her hand and said: “Thank you, it will be better so; good-by.” There was another up and down courtesy from Mrs. Lydia, another cold, stately bow from Miss Anna, whose turned-up hat, cream feather, blue sash, and long lace scarf, Reinette noted a second time, and then the ladies walked to the Beresford carriage, where Phil was waiting for them. “Well, we’ve seen the great sight. Pray, what do you think of her?” Anna asked him when they left the cemetery and turned into the highway. Phil did not like the tone of her voice, and was on his guard at once. “I’ve not seen enough of her yet to have an opinion,” he said; “nor can she appear herself. She is in great trouble, and all alone in a strange country. We must make every allowance for her.” “Yes, of course; I knew you’d stand up for her, just because she’s a Hetherton and rich,” Anna replied. “For my part, I hate her!” This was Anna’s favorite expression if she did not like a person, and she went on: “If we had been the lowest people living she could not have shown more contempt for us. I know she had never heard of a soul of us till to-day, and I just wish you could have seen her when grandma claimed her as a grandchild. Where were you, Phil? What was keeping you?” He explained where he was, and she continued: