The next two or three days passed uncomfortably enough with Will Belton.  He made his head- quarters at the little inn of Redicote, and drove himself backwards and forwards between that place and the estate which was now his own.  On each of these days he saw Colonel Askerton, whom he found to be a civil pleasant man, willing enough to rid himself of the unpleasant task he had undertaken, but at the same time, willing also to continue his services if any further services were required of him.  But of Mrs Askerton on these occasions Will saw nothing, nor had he ever spoken to her since the time of his first visit to the Castle.  Then came the day of the funeral, and after that rite was over he returned with his cousin to the house.  There was no will to be read.  The old squire had left no will, nor was there anything belonging to him at the time of his death that he could bequeath.  The furniture in the house, the worn-out carpets and old-fashioned chairs, belonged to Clara; but, beyond that, property had she none, nor had it been in her father’s power to endow her with anything.  She was alone in the world, penniless, with a conviction on her own mind that her engagement with Frederic Aylmer must of necessity come to an end, and with a feeling about her cousin which she could hardly analyse, but which told her that she could not go to his house in Norfolk, nor live with him at Belton Castle, nor trust herself in his hands as she would into those of a real brother.

On the afternoon of the day on which her father had been buried, she brought to him a letter, asking him to read it, and tell her what she should do.  The letter was from Lady Aylmer, and contained an invitation to Aylmer Castle.  It had been accompanied, as the reader may possibly remember, by a letter from Captain Aylmer himself.  Of this she of course informed her cousin; but she did not find it to be necessary to show the letter of one rival to the other.  Lady Aylmer’s letter was cold in its expression of welcome, but very dictatorial in pointing out the absolute necessity that Clara should accept the invitation so given.  ‘I think you will not fail to agree with me, dear Miss Amedroz,’ the letter said, ’that under these strange and perplexing circumstances, this is the only roof which can, with any propriety, afford you a shelter.’  ‘And why not the poor-house?’ she said, aloud to her cousin, when she perceived that his eye had descended so far on the page.  He shook his head angrily, but said nothing; and when he had finished the letter he folded it and gave it back still in silence.  ‘And what am I to do?’ she said.  ’You tell me that I am to come to you for advice in everything.’

‘You must decide for yourself here.’

’And you won’t advise me..  You won’t tell me whether she is right?

‘I suppose she is right.’

‘Then I had better go?’

‘If you mean to marry Captain Aylmer, you had better go.’

‘I am engaged to him.’