Lion closed its front door, front shutters it
had none, and those who needed drink stole
in at the back, and were silent and maudlin
over their cups, instead of riotous and noisy.
Miss Galindo's eyes were swollen up with
crying, and she told me, with a fresh burst of
tears, that even humpbacked Sally had been
found sobbing over her Bible, and using a
pockethandkerchief for the first time in her
life; her aprons having hitherto stood her in
the necessary stead, but not being sufficiently
in accordance with etiquette, to be used
when mourning over an earl's premature
decease.

If it was in this way out of the Hall, "you
might work it by the rule of three," as Miss
Galindo used to say, and judge what it was
in the Hall. We none of us spoke but in a
whisper; we tried not to eat, and indeed
the shock had been so really great, and we
did really care for my lady so much, that for
some days we had but little appetite. But
after that, I fear our sympathy grew weaker,
while our flesh grew stronger. But we still
spoke low, and our hearts ached whenever
we thought of my lady sitting there alone
in the darkened room, with the light ever
falling on that one solemn page.

We wished,—O how I wished that she
would see Mr. Gray! But Adams said she
thought my lady ought to have a bishop
come to see her. Still no one had authority
enough to send for one.

Mr. Horner all this time was suffering
as much as any one. He was too faithful
a servant of the great Hanbury family,
although now the family had dwindled down
to a fragile old lady, not to mourn acutely
over its probable extinction. He had,
besides, a deeper sympathy and reverence with,
and for, my lady in all things, than probably
he ever cared to show, for his manners were
always measured and cold. He suffered from
sorrow. He also suffered from wrong. My
lord's executors kept writing to him
continually. My lady refused to listen to mere
business, saying she entrusted all to him.
But the all was more complicated than I ever
thoroughly understood. As far as I
comprehended the case, it was something of this
kind. There had been a mortgage raised on
my lady's property of Hanbury, to enable
my lord, her husband, to spend money in
cultivating his Scotch estates, after some
new fashion that required capital. As
long as my lord, her son, lived, who was to
succeed to both the estates after her death,
this did not signify; so she had said and felt;
and she had refused to take any steps to
secure the repayment of capital, or even the
payment of the interest of the mortgage from
the possible representatives and possessors of
the Scotch estates, to the possible owner of
the Hanbury property; saying it ill became
her to calculate on the contingency of her
son's death.

But he had died, childless, unmarried.
The heirs of both estates were, in the case of
the Monkshaven property, an Edinburgh
advocate, a far-away kinsman of my lord's:
the Hanbury property would go to the
descendants of a third son of the Squire
Hanbury in the days of Queen Anne.

This complication of affairs was most
grievous to Mr. Horner. He had always
been opposed to the mortgage; had hated
the payment of the interest, as obliging my
lady to practise certain economies, which,
though she took care to make them as
personal as possible, he disliked as derogatory to
the family. Poor Mr. Horner! He was so
cold and hard in his manner, so curt and
decisive in his speech, that I don't think we
any of us did him justice. Miss Galindo was
almost the first, at this time, to speak a kind
word of him, or to take thought of him at
all, any farther than to get out of his way
when we saw him approaching.

"I don't think Mr. Horner is well," she
said one day, about three weeks after we had
heard of my lord's death. "He sits resting
his head on his hand, and hardly hears me
when I speak to him."

But I thought no more of it, as Miss
Galindo did not name it again. My lady
came amongst us once more. From elderly
she had become old; a little, frail, old lady,
in heavy black drapery, never speaking about
nor alluding to her great sorrow; quieter,
gentler, paler than ever before; and her
eyes dim with much weeping, never
witnessed by mortal.

She had seen Mr. Gray at the expiration
of the month of deep retirement. But I do
not think that even to him she had said one
word of her own particular individual sorrow.
All mention of it seemed buried deep for
evermore. One day Mr. Horner sent word
that he was too much indisposed to attend to
his usual business at the Hall; but he wrote
down some directions and requests to Miss
Galindo, saying that he would be at his
office early the next morning. The next
morning he was dead!

Miss Galindo told my lady. Miss Galindo
herself cried plentifully, but my lady, although
very much distressed, could not cry. It
seemed a physical impossibility, as if she had
shed all the tears in her power. Moreover, I
almost think her wonder was far greater that
she herself lived than that Mr. Horner died.
It was almost natural that so faithful a
servant should break his heart when the
family he belonged to lost their stay, their
heir, and their last hope.

Yes! Mr. Horner was a faithful servant.
I do not think there are many so faithful
now; but, perhaps, that is an old woman's
fancy of mine. When his will came to be
examined, it was discovered that soon after
Harry Gregson's accident Mr. Horner had
left the few thousands (three, I think,) of
which he was possessed, in trust for Harry's
benefit, desiring his executors to see that the