I sat holding the dead hand, as if therein lay some communion still with the departed. Perhaps she who saw more than others while yet alive, could see when dead that I held her cold hand in my warm grasp. Had I not good cause to love her? She had exhausted the last remnants of her life in that effort to find for me my lost Alice. Whether she had succeeded I had yet to discover. Perhaps she knew now. I hastened the funeral a little, that I might follow my quest. I had her grave dug amidst her own people and mine; for they lay side by side. The whole neighbourhood for twenty miles round followed Margaret to the grave. Such was her character and reputation, that the belief in her supernatural powers had only heightened the notion of her venerableness. When I had seen the last sod placed on her grave, I turned and went, with a desolate but hopeful heart. I had a kind of feeling that her death had sealed the truth of her last vision. I mounted old Constancy at the churchyard gate, and set out for Hilton Hall. CHAPTER XXI _Hilton._ It was a dark, drizzling night when I arrived at the little village of Hilton, within a mile of the Hall. I knew a respectable second-rate inn on the side next the Hall, to which the gardener and other servants had been in the habit of repairing of an evening; and I thought I might there stumble upon some information, especially as the old-fashioned place had a large kitchen in which all sorts of guests met. When I reflected on the utter change which time, weather, and a great scar must have made upon me, I feared no recognition. But what was my surprise when, by one of those coincidences which have so often happened to me, I found in the ostler one of my own troop at Waterloo! His countenance and salute convinced me that he recognised me. I said to him: “I know you perfectly, Wood; but you must not know me. I will go with you to the stable.” He led the way instantly. “Wood,” I said, when we had reached the shelter of the stable, “I don’t want to be known here, for reasons which I will explain to you another time.” “Very well, sir. You may depend on me, sir.” “I know I may, and I shall. Do you know anybody about the Hall?” “Yes, sir. The gardener comes here sometimes, sir. I believe he’s in the house now. Shall I ask him to step this way, sir?” “No. All I want is to learn who is at the Hall now. Will you get him talking? I shall be by, having something to drink.” “Yes, sir. As soon as I have rubbed down the old horse, sir--bless him!” “You’ll find me there.” I went in, and, with my condition for an excuse, ordered something hot by the kitchen-fire. Several country people were sitting about it. They made room for me, and I took my place at a table on one side. I soon discovered the gardener, although time had done what he could to disguise him. Wood came in presently, and, loitering about, began to talk to him. “What’s the last news at the Hall, William?” he said.