“There, again,” said Lord Hartmore, “I can’t blame her. She’s met with no attention from us, and why should she take any trouble about us? The funeral is to be on Thursday; but she said, ‘My father-in-law will not go. I can’t put him to such a trial. I will follow my husband to his grave myself, and I don’t know that I wish anybody else to take the trouble.’ She carries things with a very high hand, but I can’t blame her, I can’t blame her,” Lord Hartmore said. It must be added that the consternation of the county neighbours was increased by this report. Their consternation was increased, and so were their doubts as to what they should do; but at the same time their curiosity was piqued, and a certain sense of compunction rose in their bosoms. If it was merely the recklessness of disappointment and despair which moved Patty, or if it was severe and subtle calculation, at least her policy was wonderfully successful. There was a large attendance at poor Gervase’s funeral, at which she appeared alone, occupying by herself the blackest of mourning coaches, and in such a depth of crape as never widow had worn before. But Mrs. Gervase was exceedingly _digne_ in her woe. She made no hysterical demonstration. She had none of her own people in attendance upon her, as had been expected, though Richard Hewitt occupied a conspicuous position in the crowd, thrusting himself in among the county gentlemen in the procession. Patty stood by the grave all alone, and saw her hopes buried with real anguish. She fulfilled the part so well that Lord Hartmore (a candid man, as has been seen) could not contain himself for pity, and stepped quietly forward to her side and offered his arm. She took it silently, but with a trembling and evident need of support which went to the good gentleman’s heart. Poor thing, poor thing! then she had been really fond of him after all. Lord Hartmore reflected silently that to a girl in her position the defects of the poor half-witted fellow might not be so apparent, and if she loved him, strange as that seemed! He led her back to her carriage with an almost fatherly friendliness, the whole village looking on, all the other gentlemen a little ashamed of themselves, and Richard Hewitt’s red face blazing through the crowd. “My wife will call to inquire for you,” he said, as he put her in, “and I hope that I may be admitted soon to see my dear old friend, Sir Giles.” Patty answered only by a bow. It was all that could be expected of the poor young new-made widow, who had fulfilled this sad duty alone with no one to stand by her. The spectators were all impressed, and even overawed, by Patty’s loneliness and her crape and her youth.