“But,” said the astonished consul, “I thought you were going to London?”
“No,” said Miss Desborough quietly, “I am going to join some friends at Harrogate.”
“But that train goes much earlier than the train south, and—and I'm afraid Lord Beverdale will not have returned so soon.”
“How sad!” said Miss Desborough, with a faint smile, “but we must bear up under it, and—I'll write him. I will be here until you return.”
She turned away and entered the cottage. The granddaughter she had already seen and her sister, the servant at the Priory, were both chatting comfortably, but ceased as she entered, and both rose with awkward respect. There was little to suggest that the body of their grandfather, already in a rough oak shell, was lying upon trestles beside them.
“You have carried out my orders, I see,” said Miss Desborough, laying down her parasol.
“Ay, miss; but it was main haard gettin' et dooan so soon, and et cooast”—
“Never mind the cost. I've given you money enough, I think, and if I haven't, I guess I can give you more.”
“Ay, miss! Abbut the pa'son 'ead gi' un a funeral for nowt.”
“But I understood you to say,” said Miss Desborough, with an impatient flash of eye, “that your grandfather wished to be buried with his kindred in the north?”