CHAPTER VIII BERNARD'S ENEMIES The deceased baronet was buried in the family vault under St. Peter's Church, with all the pomp of wealth. Sir Simon had never been popular, and had been known widely as a hard, gripping man. Yet his tragic fate, and a certain pity therefore, had drawn together a large concourse of people. Distant relatives who hoped to be mentioned in the will were present clothed in deepest black, although they cared very little for the dead. Julius, who already regarded himself as in possession of Gore Hall, was there with a long face and a satisfied heart. He was glad that he had inherited the wealth after which he had long hungered, and gladder still that his rival, Bernard, was dead with a stain on his name. In fancied security he moved along, not knowing what retribution was in store for him. Even the pitying angels must have laughed at his complacency. Durham, as the solicitor and executor of the dead man, was present and directed operations. Conniston had gone to Cove Castle to see Bernard and hear his story; and Durham smiled as his eyes rested on the smug face of the presumed heir. There was no love lost between the two men, and Julius privately determined that, when in possession of the property, he would place the legal business in the hands of another solicitor. The young lawyer guessed somewhat of this, and smiled ironically as he thought how this spite would be frustrated. From far and near people were gathered, for the murder had made a great stir. Everyone united in condemning Bernard, and not one person in the throng thought him innocent. Lucy was weeping alone at the Hall, with Mrs. Gilroy offering her such cold comfort as she could think of. For the girl was truly sorry for her cousin, although she believed him to be guilty. But her theory was that Bernard had been goaded into committing the rash act by the bitter tongue of his grandfather. It was a matter of disagreement between her and Julius that she should so mourn the downfall and death of Bernard. He reprovingly advised her to keep her tears for Sir Simon, from whose death both were likely to derive benefit. But Lucy, in spite of Beryl's evil influence, which had rather warped her better nature, persisted in weeping for the miserable cousin who had so suddenly been cut off in the midst of his wickedness. At least that--in the face of circumstances--was the view she took of the matter.