The same man went to the front door and read several names from a paper in a clear, dry voice.  The people designated came down stairs, went out of the door, and stepped into carriages.  The company rose in the library and drawing-room, and, moving toward the hall, looked at the mourners—­at Hope Wayne and Mrs. Simcoe, at Mr. and Mrs. Budlong Dinks, Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Dinks, and others, as they passed out.

Presently the procession began to move slowly along the avenue.  Those who remained stepped out upon the piazza and watched it; then began to bustle about for their own carriages.  One after another they drove away.  Mr. Kingo said to Mr. Sutler that he believed the will was in the hands of Mr. Budlong Dinks, and would be opened in the morning.  They looked around the place, and remarked that Miss Wayne would probably become its mistress.

“Mrs. Alfred Dinks seems to be a very—­a very—­” said Mr. Kingo, gravely, pausing upon the last word.

“Very much so, indeed,” replied Mr. Sutler, with equal gravity.

“And yet,” said Mr. Grabeau, “if it had been so ordered that young Mr. Dinks should marry his cousin, Miss Wayne, he would—­that is, I suppose he would—­;” and he too hesitated.

“Undoubtedly,” replied both the other gentlemen, seriously, “without question it would have been a very good thing.  Mr. Burt must have left a very large property.”

“He made every cent tell,” said Mr. Sutler, taking the reins and stepping into his carriage.

“Rather—­rather—­a screw, perhaps?” inquired Mr. Grabeau, gravely, as he took out his whip.

“Awful!” replied Mr. Kingo, as he drove away.

The last carriage went, and the stately old mansion stood behind its trees deserted.  The casket and its contents had been borne away forever; but somebody had opened all the windows of the house, and June, with its song, and perfume, and sunshine, overflowed the silent chambers, and banished the smell of the varnish and every thought of death.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

THE HEIRESS.

The next morning it was hard to believe in the spectacle of the preceding day.  The house of Pinewood was pleasantly open to the sun and air.  Hope Wayne, in a black dress of the lightest possible texture, so thin that her arms could be seen through the sleeves, sat by a window.  Lawrence Newt sat beside her.  Dr. Peewee was talking with Mrs. Dinks.  Her son Alfred was sitting alone in a chair, looking at his mother, and Mrs. Fanny Newt Dinks was looking out at a window upon the lawn.  Mrs. Simcoe sat near Hope Wayne.  There was a table in the middle of the room, from which every thing had been removed.  The Honorable Budlong Dinks was walking slowly up and down the room; and several legal-looking gentlemen, friends of his, were conversing and smiling among themselves.

Mr. Dinks stopped in his walk, and, leaning upon the table with the tips of two fingers and the thumb of his left hand, he thrust the right hand into his waistcoat, by the side of the ruffle of his shirt, as if he were about to address the house upon a very weighty question.