le. Polydore Riches performed the funeral rites, and the
grave closed over the dead.

The chief mourner had been too much absorbed in his own emotions
during the ceremony to notice the bystanders; but when it was over, he
looked round to thank such as were known to him, for their sympathy
and respect. While so engaged, he happened to turn his eye on a
couple, who stood a little apart, beneath the shade of an old yew
tree. They were a young man about his own age, and a decrepit old
woman. They returned his look with an air which might be termed
insolent, and which, under other circumstances, might have provoked
his anger. But the features of the youth, although coarse and
sinister, seemed vaguely to resemble some with which Randolph was
familiar, and as he gazed upon them, he asked the chaplain if he knew
who the stranger was. Before Polydore could reply, the old woman
answered, having seen, not heard, the question.

"Who am I? Thy mother's mother: thy grandmother. Who is this? Thy
mother's sister's son: thy cousin. We were not asked to the burying,
but we came. To weep for a son-in-law? To weep for an uncle? Did he
weep for his wife? Na, na."

Randolph was inexpressibly shocked.

"I dreamt not of this," he said to the chaplain in a low tone.
"Something must be done. Are they in distress?"

"Na, na," said the old woman with a frightful grin, again interpreting
the motion of his lips, "we want nothing of you, Mr. Randolph
Trevethlan. We belong to Pendar'l now. And so will Trevethlan.

'When the castle a bride from the cot shall claim,
Pendar'l and Trevethlan shall own one name.'

Margaret Basset's mother seeks not from a son the help which a husband
refused."

Polydore put his arm through Randolph's, and drew him away. The late
Mr. Trevethlan's marriage had been a prohibited subject at the
castle, and all that his children knew concerning it, was, that their
mother had been of humble birth. So this was his son's first
introduction to his maternal relations. "It is thus," thought the
chaplain, "that the sins of the fathers are visited upon the
children."

The resemblance which Randolph had detected in the young man's
features, was to himself. It was of that vague character which the eye
often discovers in an unknown portrait, depending not on complexion,
or lineaments, or even expression, and difficult, therefore, to make
visible to another's perception. So now a third person would probably
have faile