308 THE VICARAGE. 



but took little notice of the Vicar. His daughters, 

 however, appeared to please him, and he held out 

 his hand to each of them and kissed theirs. Re- 

 lapsing soon afterwards into a state of abstraction, 

 he traced with his finger as was his usual custom, 

 " Poor John is dead/' His daughter wishing to 

 divert his attention, asked him whether he thought 

 that he should be able to shew his guests over 

 Coombe-Neville. 



" Neville, of Coombe-Neville, 3 ' said the old man 

 appearing to regain his recollection, ee he bears 

 gules, a saltier argent but but ' ultimus su- 

 orum ' what is the remainder of it ? " He was 

 evidently thinking of his son as supposing him the 

 last of his antient family, and this occasioned him 

 to give a look of utter despondency. There was 

 someting inexpressibly affecting in this look, and 

 the allusion to the extinction of his family. The 

 Vicar felt it, and was silent. There is, perhaps, 

 something in the grief of an old man, which touches 

 the feelings more acutely than the distress of either 

 the young or beautiful ; 



Like some sad statue, speechless, pale, he stood 

 Fix'd in a stupid lethargy of woe. 



But we must take leave of him, and accompany 

 the party over the house. The Hall had an open 

 roof, the huge beams supported by worked stone 

 corbeils, with ornamented spandrels. In the win- 

 dows were the arms of the Neville family, and the 



