"Then the devil, or old Grenard, must have flown away with it," said the sexton of the parish, "for I was there when they seized the poor lad, and he had not a penny in his possession."
"Will they bury him with his wife?" asked the old farmer.
"He'll never rest beside her," said a man near him. "He treated her about as well as he did her poor boy."
"How can the like o' him rest in the grave?" chimed in a female voice. "I've no manner of doubt but he'll haunt the old Hall, as his father did afore him. Mercy on us, sirs! what an awful like ghost he will make!"
"Was old Squire Anthony ever seen?" said another woman, in a mysterious whisper.
"Ay, scores of times. I've heard that the old miser met him one night himself upon the staircase, and that was the reason why he shut up the Hall."
"Who'll heir the property?" asked the old farmer.
"Algernon's son Godfrey; a fine handsome fellow. He'll make ducks and drakes of the miser's gold. We shall have fine times when he comes to the Hall."
"He'll lower the rents and the tithes upon us. Come, my lads, let's go to the public-house and drink his health."
The male portion of the group instantly acceded to the proposal; and Frederic Wildegrave set spurs to his horse and rode off, disgusted with the scene he had witnessed, and returned to his home with a sorrowful heart.