He Went To A
Cottage In The Village And There Passed His Remaining Years.
To The World He Appeared Unmoved By His Reverses.
The change
from mansion and park to a small thatched cottage, with a
labourer's wife for attendant, made no change in the man, nor
did he resign his seat on the Bench of Magistrates or any
other unpaid office he held.
To the last he was what he had
always been, formal and ceremonious, more gracious to those
beneath him than to equals; strict in the performance of his
duties, living with extreme frugality and giving freely to
those in want, and very regular in his attendance at church,
where he would sit facing the tombs and memorials of his
ancestors, among the people but not of them - a man alone and
apart, respected by all but loved by none.
Finally he died and was buried with the others, and one more
memorial with the old name, which he bore last was placed on
the wall. That was the story as it was told me, and as it was
all about a man who was without charm and had no love interest
it did not greatly interest me, and I soon dismissed it from
my thoughts. Then one day coming through a grove in the park
and finding myself standing before the ancient, empty,
desolate house - for on the squire's death everything had been
sold and taken away - I remembered that the caretaker had
begged me to let him show me over the place.
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