“Is he asleep. Master Tommy?” said the old man, in a faint whisper. My lips trembled, but I could not speak the word. “I thought he wanted the 'dogs' up at Meelif; but I 'm strained here about the loins, and can't go out myself. Tell him that, when he wakes.” “He'll never wake now, Lanty; he's dead!” said I, as a rush of tears half choked my utterance. “Dead!” said he, repeating the word two or three times,--“dead! Well, well! I wonder will Master George keep the dogs now. There seldom comes a better; and 'twas himself that liked the cry o' them.” He tottered from the room as he spoke, and I could hear him muttering the same words over and over, as he crept slowly down the stair. I have said that this painful stroke of fortune was as a dream to me; and so for three days I felt it. The altered circumstances of everything about me were inexplicable to my puzzled brain. The very kindness of the servants, so unusual to me, struck me forcibly. They felt that the time was past when any sympathy for me had been the passport to disfavor, and they pitied me. The funeral took place on the third morning. Mr. Basset having acquainted my brother that there was no necessity for his presence, even that consolation was denied me,--to meet him who alone remained of all my name and house belonging to me. How I remember every detail of that morning! The silence of the long night broken in upon by heavy footsteps ascending the stairs; strange voices, not subdued like those of all in our little household, but loud and coarse; even laughter I could hear, the noise increasing at each moment. Then the muffled sound of wheels upon the snow, and the cries of the drivers as they urged their horses forward. Then a long interval, in which nought was heard save the happy whistle of some poor postilion, who, careless of his errand, whiled away the tedious time with a lively tune. And lastly, there came the dull noise of feet moving step by step down the stair, the muttered words, the shuffling sound of feet as they descended, and the clank of the coffin as it struck against the wall. The long, low parlor was filled with people, few of whom I had ever seen before. They were broken up into little knots, chatting cheerfully together while they made a hurried breakfast. The table and sideboard were covered with a profusion I had never witnessed previously. Decanters of wine passed freely from hand to hand; and although the voices fell somewhat as I appeared amidst them, I looked in vain for one touch of sorrow for the dead, or even respect for his memory.