athern straps instead
of springs; and the fore-wheels were a mile from the hind-wheels, more
or less. A pretentious and horrible engine; drawn by four horses; only
two of them being ponies impaired the symmetry and majestic beauty of
the pageant. Old Joe drove the wheelers; his boy rode the leaders, and
every now and then got off and kicked them in the pits of their
stomachs, or pierced them with hedge-stakes, to rouse their mettle. Thus
encouraged and stimulated, they effected an average of four miles and a
half per hour, notwithstanding the snow, and reached Bolton just in
time. At the lodge, Francis got out, and lay in ambush,--but only for a
time. He did not think it orthodox to be present at a religious ceremony
of his Protestant friends,--nor common-sense-o-dox to turn his back upon
their dinner.

The carriage drew up at the hall-door. It was wide open, and the hall
lined with servants, male and female, in black. In the midst, between
these two rows, stood Griffith Gaunt, bareheaded, to welcome the guests.
His arm was in a sling. He had received all the others in the middle of
the hall; but he came to the threshold to meet Kate and her father. He
bowed low and respectfully, then gave his left hand to Kate to conduct
her, after the formal fashion of the day. The sight of his arm in a
sling startled and affected her; and with him giving her his hand almost
at the same moment, she pressed it, or indeed squeezed it nervously, and
it was in her heart to say something kind and womanly: but her father
was close behind, and she was afraid of saying something too kind, if
she said anything at all; so Griffith only got a little gentle nervous
pinch. But that was more than he expected, and sent a thrill of delight
through him; his brown eyes replied with a volume, and holding her hand
up in the air as high as her ear, and keeping at an incredible distance,
he led her solemnly to a room where the other ladies were, and left her
there with a profound bow.

The Peytons were nearly the last persons expected; and soon after their
arrival the funeral procession formed. This part was entirely arranged
by the undertaker. The monstrous custom of forbidding ladies to follow
their dead had not yet occurred even to the idiots of the nation, and
Mr. Peyton and his daughter were placed in the second carriage. The
first contained Griffith Gaunt alone, as head mourner. But the Peytons
were not alone: no other relation of the deceased being