Yet the space between Mr. Beresford's death and his funeral was to his
heir a tedious and profitless blank. He had till now been kept here by
living powers, gratitude and reverence; death came, and handed his
custody over to cold but tyrannous propriety. Now he rebelled with all
his heart, and spent hours of each solitary day in pacing backwards and
forwards the whole space of the great dim room which seemed a prison to
him.

The day before the funeral broke this stillness, two or three gentlemen,
distant relations or old friends of his grandfather, came to Hunsdon,
and towards evening there arrived the family solicitor, Mr. Payne. At
dinner that day Maurice had to take his new position as host. It was, as
suited the circumstances, a grave quiet party, but still there was
something about the manner of the guests, and even in the fact of their
being _his_ guests, which was unconsciously consoling to Maurice as
being a guarantee of his freedom and independence. Next morning the
house was all sombre bustle and preparation. Lady Dighton and her
husband arrived. She, to have one last look at the dead, he to join
Maurice in the office of mourner; and at twelve o'clock, the long
procession wound slowly away through the park, and the great house stood
emptied of the old life and ready for the commencement of the new one.

The new one began, indeed, after those who had followed Mr. Beresford
to the grave had come back, and assembled in the great unused
drawing-room to hear the will read. Lady Dighton shivered as she sat by
one of the newly-lighted fires, and bending over to Maurice whispered to
him, "For heaven's sake keep the house warmer than poor grandpapa used
to do."