Not so, said Wilson, not exactly so; I have a precious relique in my care, that’s worth your living for.
That’s true, that’s true, cried Morgan. Whilst my grandson John survives, De Lancaster and I, let death come when it will, may truly say—Non toti morimur.
As the worthy old man emphatically dealt out this scrap of Latin, which Seneca and his memory had supplied him with, the animation it inspired was visible to Edward Wilson, who had kept his eyes upon him: one of those faint fleeting smiles with which even pain and sorrow will at times be seen to greet a cheering recollection, passed over his countenance, as he dwelt upon the thought of his beloved grandson, and Edward was not backward to prolong and heighten the consolatory impulse by indulging him with various anecdotes to the honour of his pupil, and fixing his attention on a pleasant topic, which is a secret in the art of healing, that some practitioners either don’t seem to know, or are not willing to make use of.
It was now in Morgan’s power to circulate his orders to his trusty house-keeper and butler for the mansion to be prepared, and all things needful to be put in readiness against the arrival of the family from Kray Castle. Neither was it omitted to provide an apartment for the young Amelia, who together with Mrs. Jennings was invited to be present at the funeral of her patroness and friend.
CHAPTER III.
The Scene changes to Glen-Morgan.
When the appointed morning came, and the hearse with its attendant mourners issued from the portal of the court of Kray Castle, the tenants of De Lancaster presented themselves in a body and fell in respectfully and silently in rear of the cavalcade; but when Sir Arthur Floyd and the party of gentlemen, who had dined at the castle attached themselves to the train, following the coach, in which De Lancaster was seated, till they came to the last verge of his domain, where the tenants dispersed, and they approached to pay their valedictory respects, the venerable old man, overcome even to tears by the unexpected compliment, and, bowing from the window of his coach, had only strength to say—Gentlemen, I thank you from my heart! you have conferred an honour and a favour upon me and mine, which I never shall forget.
When they arrived upon the lands of Glen Morgan, though yet at some distance from the house, they were again met and escorted by the tenants and retainers of that ancient and opulent family, till they arrived at the place of their destination.
Here Mr. De Lancaster, by the persuasion of his daughter, consented to repose after the fatigue and agitation of the journey, whilst Cecilia and her nephew, as chief mourners, followed the body to the church, there to consign it with all solemnity to the vault, where the remains of the Morgans had been deposited for many generations.
The crowd, which such a spectacle could not fail to bring together, were not so engrossed by their sorrow as to prevent them from bestowing their attention on the countenance of the youthful heir, and dull indeed must have been the eye, which had not discerned that spirit of innate benevolence, which not all the clouds of sorrow could obscure. Our hero had now advanced into his eighteenth year; he was tall of stature, erect in person and of manly growth and proportion. When he led his aunt from the church, after the solemnity was concluded, and the people, who lined his passage to the coach, uncovered and in respectful silence paid their homage, he stopped, looked round, and in a manner at once the most graceful and most gracious, returned their salutation. It was a look, set off with such an action, as spoke comfort to the poor, and gave assurance to all beholders of a kind and noble nature. What sensations it conveyed to the feeling bosom of the approving Cecilia, is easier to conceive than to describe: it was not overlooked by Amelia, who beheld it through her tears, and the interesting glance was not rendered the less impressive by the tender medium, through which it made its passage to her heart.
She was leaning on the arm of Mrs. Jennings; conscious that she had no place in that awful ceremony, she had modestly stood at distance from those who had; and, it was now for the first time that our hero’s eyes had been directed towards her. She did not put it in the power of the chief mourners to offer her a seat in their coach, but carefully avoided being noticed by them, and walked with Mrs. Jennings from the church to the house. When there arrived, she did not enter by the hall, but through the offices, and by a private staircase retired to her chamber, conducted by the house-keeper.