It was all over.

The morning, with its sad office, had passed; the servants had gone back to their work; the blinds were drawn up, and light once more found its way into the darkened house.

The will was read in the library; the whole of the property, entailed and unentailed, was left to his only son, Miles, and after him to his heirs.

There was several legacies to his servants, but no mention was made of mademoiselle.

I thought it strange at the time, afterward I understood it.
Of course, as the poor young Miles was dead without heirs, I, as next of kin, took his place.