“The only other possible place will be the churchyard.”
“Oh, her leddyship will not be there, maister! Nabody has been interred there this many a year. T’ parish officers will na’ allow it! They all go to t’ simitry on t’ hill. Let alone one o’ t’ great family as never was buried in t’ open churchyard! Oh! But noo I moind me, maister!” exclaimed the man, with a sudden lightening of his face.
“What?” demanded Abel Force.
“And what a gey coote I was to forget it!”
“What?” again inquired Mr. Force.
“But it was all along of my thinking as you wanted to see t’ auld church, and not the leddy’s munniment, as put me off the track,” continued the man.
Mr. Force said no more, but waited for the sexton to explain himself in his own way.
“Her leddyship’s body must be in t’ grand new musselman as the squire had built to her memory. Eh, maister, I were not i’ the parish when t’ bootiful leddy deed; but the folk do say he took on a soight! Shet himself up in t’ hoose after t’ funeral and wouldn’t see a soul! Had the foine musselman built in the park and her laid in it! And then he betook hisself to furrin pairts and never come home for years! Bother my wooden head for not telling you first off; but you see, maister, I thought it was t’ auld church you wanted and not the leddy’s munnimint.”
“Where is”—Abel Force could scarcely bring himself to utter the detested name—“where is Col. Anglesea now?”
“Traveling, maister, in furrin lands. He coom home aboot a year ago, and he was ’pointed leevetinint o’ t’ county. But he couldn’t abide the manor since her leddyship deed, and so he resigned and went away again. Eh, but he loved the ground she walked on, and couldn’t abear it after she deed.”