At four o'clock several of Robert's friends came and seated themselves in the room where the coffin sat wreathed with flowers; and immediately after, Mr. and Mrs. Spiewell made their appearance, accompanied by two ladies whose features were concealed by thick veils. Robert and the servants soon joined them, and Salome stole into the room and sat down in one corner. Dr. Grey tapped softly at the door of Mrs. Gerome's apartment, and she came out instantly, and walked firmly forward till she stood in the presence of the dead. She was dressed in black silk, and wore two heavy lace veils over her bonnet, which effectually screened her countenance. Crossing the floor, she stood at Robert's side, and the minister rose and began the burial service. When a prayer was offered, all the other persons present bowed their heads, but the mistress of the mansion remained erect and motionless; and, as the pall-bearers took up the coffin and proceeded to the grave, she followed Robert. Dr. Grey stepped to her side and offered his arm, but she took no notice of the act, and walked on as if she were an automaton. The service was concluded, the coffin lowered, and, amid Robert's half-smothered sobs, the mound was raised under the deodars, whose long shadows slanted athwart it, in the dying sunlight. The little group dispersed, and Mr. Spiewell led his wife to the owner of "Solitude." "Mrs. Gerome, Mrs. Spiewell and I have long desired the pleasure of your acquaintance, and hope, if you need friends, you will permit us--" "Thank you for your kindness in visiting my faithful old Elsie." The tall, veiled figure had cut short his speech by a quick, imperative gesture of her hand; and, turning instantly away, disappeared in one of the densely shaded walks that wound through the grounds. Dr. Grey escorted the party to their carriages, and as he handed Mrs. Spiewell in, she said, in her sharp nasal tones,-- "I heard that Mrs. Gerome was devotedly attached to the poor old creature who had nursed her, but she certainly seems to me very indifferent and heartless." "She is more deeply afflicted by her loss than you can possibly realize, and I am exceedingly apprehensive that she will be ill in consequence of her inability to sleep or eat. My dear madam, we must not judge too hastily from appearances, else we shall deserve similar treatment. Who are those two ladies veiled so closely?" "Friends, I presume, or they would not be here." But the little woman seemed uneasy, and flushed under the doctor's searching gaze. "I hope dear Miss Jane is as well as one can ever expect her to be in this life. Come, Charles; you forget, my dear, that we have a visit to make before tea-time. I notice, doctor, that you have a new carpet on the floor of your pew, and a new cushion-cover to match; and, indeed, you are so fine that the remainder of the church seems quite faded and shabby. Good evening, doctor; my love to all at home."