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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Night and Morning, by Edward Bulwer Lytton
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Night and Morning
+       Book 1 (of 5)
+
+Author: Edward Bulwer Lytton
+
+Release Date: December 16, 2011 [EBook #9750]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NIGHT AND MORNING ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+[See the latest corrected and updated text and html PG Editions
+ of the complete 5 volume set at:
+                   http://www.gutenberg.org/files/9755/9755.txt
+         http://www.gutenberg.org/files/9755/9755-h/9755-h.htm]
+
+
+
+
+                           THE WORKS
+
+                              OF
+
+                     EDWARD BULWER LYTTON
+
+                         (LORD LYTTON)
+
+
+                       NIGHT AND MORNING
+
+                            Book I
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+TO THE EDITION OF 1845.
+
+Much has been written by critics, especially by those in Germany (the
+native land of criticism), upon the important question, whether to please
+or to instruct should be the end of Fiction--whether a moral purpose is
+or is not in harmony with the undidactic spirit perceptible in the higher
+works of the imagination.  And the general result of the discussion has
+been in favour of those who have contended that Moral Design, rigidly so
+called, should be excluded from the aims of the Poet; that his Art should
+regard only the Beautiful, and be contented with the indirect moral
+tendencies, which can never fail the creation of the Beautiful.
+Certainly, in fiction, to interest, to please, and sportively to elevate
+--to take man from the low passions, and the miserable troubles of life,
+into a higher region, to beguile weary and selfish pain, to excite a
+genuine sorrow at vicissitudes not his own, to raise the passions into
+sympathy with heroic struggles--and to admit the soul into that serener
+atmosphere from which it rarely returns to ordinary existence, without
+some memory or association which ought to enlarge the domain of thought
+and exalt the motives of action;--such, without other moral result or
+object, may satisfy the Poet,* and constitute the highest and most
+universal morality he can effect.  But subordinate to this, which is not
+the duty, but the necessity, of all Fiction that outlasts the hour, the
+writer of imagination may well permit to himself other purposes and
+objects, taking care that they be not too sharply defined, and too
+obviously meant to contract the Poet into the Lecturer--the Fiction into
+the Homily.  The delight in Shylock is not less vivid for the Humanity it
+latently but profoundly inculcates; the healthful merriment of the
+Tartufe is not less enjoyed for the exposure of the Hypocrisy it
+denounces.  We need not demand from Shakespeare or from Moliere other
+morality than that which Genius unconsciously throws around it--the
+natural light which it reflects; but if some great principle which guides
+us practically in the daily intercourse with men becomes in the general
+lustre more clear and more pronounced, we gain doubly, by the general
+tendency and the particular result.
+
+    *[I use the word Poet in its proper sense, as applicable to any
+     writer, whether in verse or prose, who invents or creates.]
+
+Long since, in searching for new regions in the Art to which I am a
+servant, it seemed to me that they might be found lying far, and rarely
+trodden, beyond that range of conventional morality in which Novelist
+after Novelist had entrenched himself--amongst those subtle recesses in
+the ethics of human life in which Truth and Falsehood dwell undisturbed
+and unseparated.  The vast and dark Poetry around us--the Poetry of
+Modern Civilisation and Daily Existence, is shut out from us in much, by
+the shadowy giants of Prejudice and Fear.  He who would arrive at the
+Fairy Land must face the Phantoms.  Betimes, I set myself to the task of
+investigating the motley world to which our progress in humanity--has
+attained, caring little what misrepresentation I incurred, what hostility
+I provoked, in searching through a devious labyrinth for the foot-tracks
+of Truth.
+
+In the pursuit of this object, I am, not vainly, conscious that I have
+had my influence on my time--that I have contributed, though humbly and
+indirectly, to the benefits which Public Opinion has extorted from
+Governments and Laws.  While (to content myself with a single example)
+the ignorant or malicious were decrying the moral of Paul Clifford, I
+consoled myself with perceiving that its truths had stricken deep--that
+many, whom formal essays might not reach, were enlisted by the picture
+and the popular force of Fiction into the service of that large and
+Catholic Humanity which frankly examines into the causes of crime, which
+ameliorates the ills of society by seeking to amend the circumstances by
+which they are occasioned; and commences the great work of justice to
+mankind by proportioning the punishment to the offence.  That work, I
+know, had its share in the wise and great relaxation of our Criminal
+Code--it has had its share in results yet more valuable, because leading
+to more comprehensive reforms-viz., in the courageous facing of the ills
+which the mock decorum of timidity would shun to contemplate, but which,
+till fairly fronted, in the spirit of practical Christianity, sap daily,
+more and more, the walls in which blind Indolence would protect itself
+from restless Misery and rampant Hunger.  For it is not till Art has told
+the unthinking that nothing (rightly treated) is too low for its breath
+to vivify and its wings to raise, that the Herd awaken from their chronic
+lethargy of contempt, and the Lawgiver is compelled to redress what the
+Poet has lifted into esteem.  In thus enlarging the boundaries of the
+Novelist, from trite and conventional to untrodden ends, I have seen, not
+with the jealousy of an author, but with the pride of an Originator, that
+I have served as a guide to later and abler writers, both in England and
+abroad.  If at times, while imitating, they have mistaken me, I am not.
+answerable for their errors; or if, more often, they have improved where
+they borrowed, I am not envious of their laurels.  They owe me at least
+this, that I prepared the way for their reception, and that they would
+have been less popular and more misrepresented, if the outcry which
+bursts upon the first researches into new directions had not exhausted
+its noisy vehemence upon me.
+
+In this Novel of _Night and Morning_ I have had various ends in view--
+subordinate, I grant, to the higher and more durable morality which
+belongs to the Ideal, and instructs us playfully while it interests, in
+the passions, and through the heart.  First--to deal fearlessly with that
+universal unsoundness in social justice which makes distinctions so
+marked and iniquitous between Vice and Crime--viz., between the
+corrupting habits and the violent act--which scarce touches the former
+with the lightest twig in the fasces--which lifts against the latter the
+edge of the Lictor's axe.  Let a child steal an apple in sport, let a
+starveling steal a roll in despair, and Law conducts them to the Prison,
+for evil commune to mellow them for the gibbet.  But let a man spend one
+apprenticeship from youth to old age in vice--let him devote a fortune,
+perhaps colossal, to the wholesale demoralisation of his kind--and he may
+be surrounded with the adulation of the so-called virtuous, and be served
+upon its knee, by that Lackey--the Modern World!  I say not that Law can,
+or that Law should, reach the Vice as it does the Crime; but I say, that
+Opinion may be more than the servile shadow of Law.  I impress not here,
+as in _Paul Clifford_, a material moral to work its effect on the
+Journals, at the Hastings, through Constituents, and on Legislation;--I
+direct myself to a channel less active, more tardy, but as sure--to the
+Conscience--that reigns elder and superior to all Law, in men's hearts
+and souls;--I utter boldly and loudly a truth, if not all untold,
+murmured feebly and falteringly before, sooner or later it will find its
+way into the judgment and the conduct, and shape out a tribunal which
+requires not robe or ermine.
+
+Secondly--In this work I have sought to lift the mask from the timid
+selfishness which too often with us bears the name of Respectability.
+Purposely avoiding all attraction that may savour of extravagance,
+patiently subduing every tone and every hue to the aspect of those whom
+we meet daily in our thoroughfares, I have shown in Robert Beaufort the
+man of decorous phrase and bloodless action--the systematic self-server--
+in whom the world forgive the lack of all that is generous, warm, and
+noble, in order to respect the passive acquiescence in methodical
+conventions and hollow forms.  And how common such men are with us in
+this century, and how inviting and how necessary their delineation, may
+be seen in this,--that the popular and pre-eminent Observer of the age in
+which we live has since placed their prototype in vigorous colours upon
+imperishable canvas.--[Need I say that I allude to the Pecksniff of Mr.
+Dickens?]
+
+There is yet another object with which I have identified my tale.  I
+trust that I am not insensible to such advantages as arise from the
+diffusion of education really sound, and knowledge really available;--for
+these, as the right of my countrymen, I have contended always.  But of
+late years there has been danger that what ought to be an important truth
+may be perverted into a pestilent fallacy.  Whether for rich or for poor,
+disappointment must ever await the endeavour to give knowledge without
+labour, and experience without trial.  Cheap literature and popular
+treatises do not in themselves suffice to fit the nerves of man for the
+strife below, and lift his aspirations, in healthful confidence above.
+He who seeks to divorce toil from knowledge deprives knowledge of its
+most valuable property.--the strengthening of the mind by exercise.  We
+learn what really braces and elevates us only in proportion to the effort
+it costs us.  Nor is it in Books alone, nor in Books chiefly, that we are
+made conscious of our strength as Men; Life is the great Schoolmaster,
+Experience the mighty Volume.  He who has made one stern sacrifice of
+self has acquired more than he will ever glean from the odds and ends of
+popular philosophy.  And the man the least scholastic may be more robust
+in the power that is knowledge, and approach nearer to the Arch-Seraphim,
+than Bacon himself, if he cling fast to two simple maxims--"Be honest in
+temptation, and in Adversity believe in God."  Such moral, attempted
+before in Eugene Aram, I have enforced more directly here; and out of
+such convictions I have created hero and heroine, placing them in their
+primitive and natural characters, with aid more from life than books,--
+from courage the one, from affection the other--amidst the feeble
+Hermaphrodites of our sickly civilisation;--examples of resolute Manhood
+and tender Womanhood.
+
+The opinions I have here put forth are not in fashion at this day.  But I
+have never consulted the popular any more than the sectarian, Prejudice.
+Alone and unaided I have hewn out my way, from first to last, by the
+force of my own convictions.  The corn springs up in the field centuries
+after the first sower is forgotten.  Works may perish with the workman;
+but, if truthful, their results are in the works of others, imitating,
+borrowing, enlarging, and improving, in the everlasting Cycle of Industry
+and Thought.
+
+Knebworth, 1845.
+
+
+
+NOTE TO THE PRESENT EDITION, 1851.
+
+I have nothing to add to the preceding pages, written six years ago, as
+to the objects and aims of this work; except to say, and by no means as a
+boast, that the work lays claims to one kind of interest which I
+certainly never desired to effect for it--viz., in exemplifying the
+glorious uncertainty of the Law.  For, humbly aware of the blunders which
+Novelists not belonging to the legal profession are apt to commit, when
+they summon to the _denouement_ of a plot the aid of a deity so
+mysterious as Themis, I submitted to an eminent lawyer the whole case of
+"Beaufort versus Beaufort," as it stands in this Novel.  And the pages
+which refer to that suit were not only written from the opinion annexed
+to the brief I sent in, but submitted to the eye of my counsel, and
+revised by his pen.--(N.B.  He was feed.)  Judge then my dismay when I
+heard long afterwards that the late Mr. O'Connell disputed the soundness
+of the law I had thus bought and paid for!  "Who shall decide when
+doctors disagree?"  All I can say is, that I took the best opinion that
+love or money could get me; and I should add, that my lawyer, unawed by
+the alleged _ipse dixit_ of the great Agitator (to be sure, he is dead),
+still stoutly maintains his own views of the question.
+
+     [I have, however, thought it prudent so far to meet the objection
+     suggested by Mr. O'Connell, as to make a slight alteration in this
+     edition, which will probably prevent the objection, if correct,
+     being of any material practical effect on the disposition of that
+     visionary El Dorado--the Beaufort Property.]
+
+Let me hope that the right heir will live long enough to come under the
+Statute of Limitations.  Possession is nine points of the law, and Time
+may give the tenth.
+
+Knebworth.
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT AND MORNING.
+
+BOOK I.
+
+                    "Noch in meines Lebens Lenze
+                    War ich and ich wandert' aus,
+                    Und der Jugend frohe Tanze
+                    Liess ich in des Vaters Haus."
+
+                                  SCHILLER, Der Pilgrim.
+
+
+INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.
+
+               "Now rests our vicar.  They who knew him best,
+               Proclaim his life to have been entirely rest;
+               Not one so old has left this world of sin,
+               More like the being that he entered in."--CRABBE.
+
+In one of the Welsh counties is a small village called A----.  It is
+somewhat removed from the high road, and is, therefore, but little known
+to those luxurious amateurs of the picturesque, who view nature through
+the windows of a carriage and four.  Nor, indeed, is there anything,
+whether of scenery or association, in the place itself, sufficient to
+allure the more sturdy enthusiast from the beaten tracks which tourists
+and guide-books prescribe to those who search the Sublime and Beautiful
+amidst the mountain homes of the ancient Britons.  Still, on the whole,
+the village is not without its attractions.  It is placed in a small
+valley, through which winds and leaps down many a rocky fall, a clear,
+babbling, noisy rivulet, that affords excellent sport to the brethren of
+the angle.  Thither, accordingly, in the summer season occasionally
+resort the Waltons of the neighbourhood--young farmers, retired traders,
+with now and then a stray artist, or a roving student from one of the
+universities.  Hence the solitary hostelry of A----, being somewhat more
+frequented, is also more clean and comfortable than could reasonably be
+anticipated from the insignificance and remoteness of the village.
+
+At a time in which my narrative opens, the village boasted a sociable,
+agreeable, careless, half-starved parson, who never failed to introduce
+himself to any of the anglers who, during the summer months, passed a day
+or two in the little valley.  The Rev. Mr. Caleb Price had been educated
+at the University of Cambridge, where he had contrived, in three years,
+to run through a little fortune of L3500.  It is true, that he acquired
+in return the art of making milkpunch, the science of pugilism, and the
+reputation of one of the best-natured, rattling, open-hearted companions
+whom you could desire by your side in a tandem to Newmarket, or in a row
+with the bargemen.  By the help of these gifts and accomplishments, he
+had not failed to find favour, while his money lasted, with the young
+aristocracy of the "Gentle Mother."  And, though the very reverse of an
+ambitious or calculating man, he had certainly nourished the belief that
+some one of the "hats" or "tinsel gowns"--i.e., young lords or fellow-
+commoners, with whom he was on such excellent terms, and who supped with
+him so often, would do something for him in the way of a living.  But it
+so happened that when Mr. Caleb Price had, with a little difficulty,
+scrambled through his degree, and found himself a Bachelor of Arts and at
+the end of his finances, his grand acquaintances parted from him to their
+various posts in the State Militant of Life.  And, with the exception of
+one, joyous and reckless as himself, Mr. Caleb Price found that when
+Money makes itself wings it flies away with our friends.  As poor Price
+had earned no academical distinction, so he could expect no advancement
+from his college; no fellowship; no tutorship leading hereafter to
+livings, stalls, and deaneries.  Poverty began already to stare him in
+the face, when the only friend who, having shared his prosperity,
+remained true to his adverse fate,--a friend, fortunately for him, of
+high connections and brilliant prospects--succeeded in obtaining for him
+the humble living of A----.  To this primitive spot the once jovial
+roisterer cheerfully retired--contrived to live contented upon an income
+somewhat less than he had formerly given to his groom--preached very
+short sermons to a very scanty and ignorant congregation, some of whom
+only understood Welsh--did good to the poor and sick in his own careless,
+slovenly way--and, uncheered or unvexed by wife and children, he rose in
+summer with the lark and in winter went to bed at nine precisely, to save
+coals and candles.  For the rest, he was the most skilful angler in the
+whole county; and so willing to communicate the results of his experience
+as to the most taking colour of the flies, and the most favoured haunts
+of the trout--that he had given especial orders at the inn, that whenever
+any strange gentleman came to fish, Mr. Caleb Price should be immediately
+sent for.  In this, to be sure, our worthy pastor had his usual
+recompense.  First, if the stranger were tolerably liberal, Mr. Price was
+asked to dinner at the inn; and, secondly, if this failed, from the
+poverty or the churlishness of the obliged party, Mr. Price still had an
+opportunity to hear the last news--to talk about the Great World--in a
+word, to exchange ideas, and perhaps to get an old newspaper, or an odd
+number of a magazine.
+
+Now, it so happened that one afternoon in October, when the periodical
+excursions of the anglers, becoming gradually rarer and more rare, had
+altogether ceased, Mr. Caleb Price was summoned from his parlour in which
+he had been employed in the fabrication of a net for his cabbages, by a
+little white-headed boy, who came to say there was a gentleman at the inn
+who wished immediately to see him--a strange gentleman, who had never
+been there before.
+
+Mr. Price threw down his net, seized his hat, and, in less than five
+minutes, he was in the best room of the little inn.
+
+The person there awaiting him was a man who, though plainly clad in a
+velveteen shooting-jacket, had an air and mien greatly above those common
+to the pedestrian visitors of A----.  He was tall, and of one of those
+athletic forms in which vigour in youth is too often followed by
+corpulence in age.  At this period, however, in the full prime of
+manhood--the ample chest and sinewy limbs, seen to full advantage in
+their simple and manly dress--could not fail to excite that popular
+admiration which is always given to strength in the one sex as to
+delicacy in the other.  The stranger was walking impatiently to and fro
+the small apartment when Mr. Price entered; and then, turning to the
+clergyman a countenance handsome and striking, but yet more prepossessing
+from its expression of frankness than from the regularity of its
+features,--he stopped short, held out his hand, and said, with a gay
+laugh, as he glanced over the parson's threadbare and slovenly costume,
+"My poor Caleb!--what a metamorphosis!--I should not have known you
+again!"
+
+"What! you!  Is it possible, my dear fellow?--how glad I am to see you!
+What on earth can bring you to such a place?  No!  not a soul would
+believe me if I said I had seen you in this miserable hole."
+
+"That is precisely the reason why I am here.  Sit down, Caleb, and we'll
+talk over matters as soon as our landlord has brought up the materials
+for--"
+
+"The milk-punch," interrupted Mr. Price, rubbing his hands.
+
+"Ah, that will bring us back to old times, indeed!"
+
+In a few minutes the punch was prepared, and after two or three
+preparatory glasses, the stranger thus commenced: "My dear Caleb, I am in
+want of your assistance, and above all of your secrecy."
+
+"I promise you both beforehand.  It will make me happy the rest of my
+life to think I have served my patron--my benefactor--the only friend I
+possess."
+
+"Tush, man! don't talk of that: we shall do better for you one of these
+days.  But now to the point: I have come here to be married--married, old
+boy! married!"
+
+And the stranger threw himself back in his chair, and chuckled with the
+glee of a schoolboy.
+
+"Humph!" said the parson, gravely.  "It is a serious thing to do, and a
+very odd place to come to."
+
+"I admit both propositions: this punch is superb.  To proceed.  You know
+that my uncle's immense fortune is at his own disposal; if I disobliged
+him, he would be capable of leaving all to my brother; I should disoblige
+him irrevocably if he knew that I had married a tradesman's daughter; I
+am going to marry a tradesman's daughter--a girl in a million! the
+ceremony must be as secret as possible.  And in this church, with you for
+the priest, I do not see a chance of discovery."
+
+"Do you marry by license?"
+
+"No, my intended is not of age; and we keep the secret even from her
+father.  In this village you will mumble over the bans without one of
+your congregation ever taking heed of the name.  I shall stay here a
+month for the purpose.  She is in London, on a visit to a relation in the
+city.  The bans on her side will be published with equal privacy in a
+little church near the Tower, where my name will be no less unknown than
+hers.  Oh, I've contrived it famously!"
+
+"But, my dear fellow, consider what you risk."
+
+"I have considered all, and I find every chance in my favour.  The bride
+will arrive here on the day of our wedding: my servant will be one
+witness; some stupid old Welshman, as antediluvian as possible--I leave
+it to you to select him--shall be the other.  My servant I shall dispose
+of, and the rest I can depend on."
+
+"But--"
+
+"I detest buts; if I had to make a language, I would not admit such a
+word in it.  And now, before I run on about Catherine, a subject quite
+inexhaustible, tell me, my dear friend, something about yourself."
+
+                   .    .    .    .    .    .    .
+
+Somewhat more than a month had elapsed since the arrival of the stranger
+at the village inn.  He had changed his quarters for the Parsonage--went
+out but little, and then chiefly on foot excursions among the sequestered
+hills in the neighbourhood.  He was therefore but partially known by
+sight, even in the village; and the visit of some old college friend to
+the minister, though indeed it had never chanced before, was not, in
+itself, so remarkable an event as to excite any particular observation.
+The bans had been duly, and half audibly, hurried over, after the service
+was concluded, and while the scanty congregation were dispersing down the
+little aisle of the church,--when one morning a chaise and pair arrived
+at the Parsonage.  A servant out of livery leaped from the box.  The
+stranger opened the door of the chaise, and, uttering a joyous
+exclamation, gave his arm to a lady, who, trembling and agitated, could
+scarcely, even with that stalwart support, descend the steps.  "Ah!" she
+said, in a voice choked with tears, when they found themselves alone in
+the little parlour,--"ah! if you knew how I have suffered!"
+
+How is it that certain words, and those the homeliest, which the hand
+writes and the eye reads as trite and commonplace expressions--when
+spoken convey so much,--so many meanings complicated and refined?  "Ah!
+if you knew how I have suffered!"
+
+When the lover heard these words, his gay countenance fell; he drew back
+--his conscience smote him: in that complaint was the whole history of a
+clandestine love, not for both the parties, but for the woman--the
+painful secrecy--the remorseful deceit--the shame--the fear--the
+sacrifice.  She who uttered those words was scarcely sixteen.  It is an
+early age to leave Childhood behind for ever!
+
+"My own love! you have suffered, indeed; but it is over now.
+
+"Over!  And what will they say of me--what will they think of me at home?
+Over!  Ah!"
+
+"It is but for a short time; in the course of nature my uncle cannot live
+long: all then will be explained.  Our marriage once made public, all
+connected with you will be proud to own you.  You will have wealth,
+station--a name among the first in the gentry of England.  But, above
+all, you will have the happiness to think that your forbearance for a
+time has saved me, and, it may be, our children, sweet one!--from poverty
+and--"
+
+"It is enough," interrupted the girl; and the expression of her
+countenance became serene and elevated.  "It is for you--for your sake.
+I know what you hazard: how much I must owe you!  Forgive me, this is the
+last murmur you shall ever hear from these lips."
+
+An hour after these words were spoken, the marriage ceremony was
+concluded.
+
+"Caleb," said the bridegroom, drawing the clergyman aside as they were
+about to re-enter the house, "you will keep your promise, I know; and you
+think I may depend implicitly upon the good faith of the witness you have
+selected?"
+
+"Upon his good faith?--no," said Caleb, smiling, "but upon his deafness,
+his ignorance, and his age.  My poor old clerk! He will have forgotten
+all about it before this day three months.  Now I have seen your lady, I
+no longer wonder that you incur so great a risk.  I never beheld so
+lovely a countenance.  You will be happy!"  And the village priest
+sighed, and thought of the coming winter and his own lonely hearth.
+
+"My dear friend, you have only seen her beauty--it is her least charm.
+Heaven knows how often I have made love; and this is the only woman I
+have ever really loved.  Caleb, there is an excellent living that adjoins
+my uncle's house.  The rector is old; when the house is mine, you will
+not be long without the living.  We shall be neighbours, Caleb, and then
+you shall try and find a bride for yourself.  Smith,"--and the bridegroom
+turned to the servant who had accompanied his wife, and served as a
+second witness to the marriage,--tell the post-boy to put to the horses
+immediately."
+
+"Yes, Sir.  May I speak a word with you?"
+
+"Well, what?"
+
+"Your uncle, sir, sent for me to come to him, the day before we left
+town."
+
+"Aha!--indeed!"
+
+"And I could just pick up among his servants that he had some suspicion--
+at least, that he had been making inquiries--and seemed very cross, sir."
+
+"You went to him?"
+
+"No, Sir, I was afraid.  He has such a way with him;--whenever his eye is
+fixed on mine, I always feel as if it was impossible to tell a lie; and--
+and--in short, I thought it was best not to go."
+
+"You did right.  Confound this fellow!"  muttered the bridegroom, turning
+away; "he is honest, and loves me: yet, if my uncle sees him, he is
+clumsy enough to betray all.  Well, I always meant to get him out of the
+way--the sooner the better.  Smith!"
+
+"Yes, sir!"
+
+"You have often said that you should like, if you had some capital, to
+settle in Australia.  Your father is an excellent farmer; you are above
+the situation you hold with me; you are well educated, and have some
+knowledge of agriculture; you can scarcely fail to make a fortune as a
+settler; and if you are of the same mind still, why, look you, I have
+just L1000. at my bankers: you shall have half, if you like to sail by
+the first packet."
+
+"Oh, sir, you are too generous."
+
+"Nonsense--no thanks--I am more prudent than generous; for I agree with
+you that it is all up with me if my uncle gets hold of you.  I dread my
+prying brother, too; in fact, the obligation is on my side; only stay
+abroad till I am a rich man, and my marriage made public, and then you
+may ask of me what you will.  It's agreed, then; order the horses, we'll
+go round by Liverpool, and learn about the vessels.  By the way, my good
+fellow, I hope you see nothing now of that good-for-nothing brother of
+yours?"
+
+"No, indeed, sir.  It's a thousand pities he has turned out so ill; for
+he was the cleverest of the family, and could always twist me round his
+little finger."
+
+"That's the very reason I mentioned him.  If he learned our secret, he
+would take it to an excellent market.  Where is he?"
+
+"Hiding, I suspect, sir."
+
+"Well, we shall put the sea between you and him!  So now all's safe."
+
+Caleb stood by the porch of his house as the bride and bridegroom entered
+their humble vehicle.  Though then November, the day was exquisitely mild
+and calm, the sky without a cloud, and even the leafless trees seemed to
+smile beneath the cheerful sun.  And the young bride wept no more; she
+was with him she loved--she was his for ever.  She forgot the rest.  The
+hope--the heart of sixteen--spoke brightly out through the blushes that
+mantled over her fair cheeks.  The bridegroom's frank and manly
+countenance was radiant with joy.  As he waved his hand to Caleb from the
+window the post-boy cracked his whip, the servant settled himself on the
+dickey, the horses started off in a brisk trot,--the clergyman was left
+alone.
+
+To be married is certainly an event in life; to marry other people is,
+for a priest, a very ordinary occurrence; and yet, from that day, a great
+change began to operate in the spirits and the habits of Caleb Price.
+Have you ever, my gentle reader, buried yourself for some time quietly in
+the lazy ease of a dull country-life?  Have you ever become gradually
+accustomed to its monotony, and inured to its solitude; and, just at the
+time when you have half-forgotten the great world--that _mare magnum_
+that frets and roars in the distance--have you ever received in your calm
+retreat some visitor, full of the busy and excited life which you
+imagined yourself contented to relinquish?  If so, have you not
+perceived, that, in proportion as his presence and communication either
+revived old memories, or brought before you new pictures of "the bright
+tumult" of that existence of which your guest made a part,--you began to
+compare him curiously with yourself; you began to feel that what before
+was to rest is now to rot; that your years are gliding from you unenjoyed
+and wasted; that the contrast between the animal life of passionate
+civilisation and the vegetable torpor of motionless seclusion is one
+that, if you are still young, it tasks your philosophy to bear,--feeling
+all the while that the torpor may be yours to your grave?  And when your
+guest has left you, when you are again alone, is the solitude the same as
+it was before?
+
+Our poor Caleb had for years rooted his thoughts to his village.  His
+guest had been like the Bird in the Fairy Tale, settling upon the quiet
+branches, and singing so loudly and so gladly of the enchanted skies
+afar, that, when it flew away, the tree pined, nipped and withering in
+the sober sun in which before it had basked contented.  The guest was,
+indeed, one of those men whose animal spirits exercise upon such as come
+within their circle the influence and power usually ascribed only to
+intellectual qualities.  During the month he had sojourned with Caleb, he
+had brought back to the poor parson all the gaiety of the brisk and noisy
+novitiate that preceded the solemn vow and the dull retreat;--the social
+parties, the merry suppers, the open-handed, open-hearted fellowship of
+riotous, delightful, extravagant, thoughtless YOUTH.  And Caleb was not a
+bookman--not a scholar; he had no resources in himself, no occupation but
+his indolent and ill-paid duties.  The emotions, therefore, of the Active
+Man were easily aroused within him.  But if this comparison between his
+past and present life rendered him restless and disturbed, how much more
+deeply and lastingly was he affected by a contrast between his own future
+and that of his friend!  Not in those points where he could never hope
+equality--wealth and station--the conventional distinctions to which,
+after all, a man of ordinary sense must sooner or later reconcile
+himself--but in that one respect wherein all, high and low, pretend to
+the same rights--rights which a man of moderate warmth of feeling can
+never willingly renounce--viz., a partner in a lot however obscure; a
+kind face by a hearth, no matter how mean it be!  And his happier friend,
+like all men full of life, was full of himself--full of his love, of his
+future, of the blessings of home, and wife, and children.  Then, too, the
+young bride seemed so fair, so confiding, and so tender; so formed to
+grace the noblest or to cheer the humblest home!  And both were so happy,
+so all in all to each other, as they left that barren threshold!  And the
+priest felt all this, as, melancholy and envious, he turned from the door
+in that November day, to find himself thoroughly alone.  He now began
+seriously to muse upon those fancied blessings which men wearied with
+celibacy see springing, heavenward, behind the altar.  A few weeks
+afterwards a notable change was visible in the good man's exterior.  He
+became more careful of his dress, he shaved every morning, he purchased a
+crop-eared Welsh cob; and it was soon known in the neighbourhood that the
+only journey the cob was ever condemned to take was to the house of a
+certain squire, who, amidst a family of all ages, boasted two very pretty
+marriageable daughters.  That was the second holy day-time of poor Caleb
+--the love-romance of his life: it soon closed.  On learning the amount
+of the pastor's stipend the squire refused to receive his addresses; and,
+shortly after, the girl to whom he had attached himself made what the
+world calls a happy match: and perhaps it was one, for I never heard that
+she regretted the forsaken lover.  Probably Caleb was not one of those
+whose place in a woman's heart is never to be supplied.  The lady
+married, the world went round as before, the brook danced as merrily
+through the village, the poor worked on the week-days, and the urchins
+gambolled round the gravestones on the Sabbath,--and the pastor's heart
+was broken.  He languished gradually and silently away.  The villagers
+observed that he had lost his old good-humoured smile; that he did not
+stop every Saturday evening at the carrier's gate, to ask if there were
+any news stirring in the town which the carrier weekly visited; that he
+did not come to borrow the stray newspapers that now and then found their
+way into the village; that, as he sauntered along the brookside, his
+clothes hung loose on his limbs, and that he no longer "whistled as he
+went;" alas, he was no longer "in want of thought!"  By degrees, the
+walks themselves were suspended; the parson was no longer visible: a
+stranger performed his duties.
+
+One day, it might be some three years and more after the fatal visit I
+have commemorated--one very wild rough day in early March, the postman,
+who made the round of the district, rang at the parson's bell.  The
+single female servant, her red hair loose on her neck, replied to the
+call.
+
+"And how is the master?"
+
+"Very bad;" and the girl wiped her eyes.
+
+"He should leave you something handsome," remarked the postman, kindly,
+as he pocketed the money for the letter.
+
+The pastor was in bed--the boisterous wind rattled clown the chimney and
+shook the ill-fitting casement in its rotting frame.  The clothes he had
+last worn were thrown carelessly about, unsmoothed, unbrushed; the scanty
+articles of furniture were out of their proper places; slovenly
+discomfort marked the death-chamber.  And by the bedside stood a
+neighbouring clergyman, a stout, rustic, homely, thoroughly Welsh priest,
+who might have sat for the portrait of Parson Adams.
+
+"Here's a letter for you," said the visitor.
+
+"For me!"  echoed Caleb, feebly.  "Ah--well--is it not very dark, or are
+my eyes failing?"  The clergyman and the servant drew aside the curtains
+and propped the sick man up: he read as follows, slowly, and with
+difficulty:
+
+"DEAR, CALEB,--At last I can do something for you.  A friend of mine has
+a living in his gift just vacant, worth, I understand, from three to four
+hundred a year: pleasant neighbourhood--small parish.  And my friend
+keeps the hounds!--just the thing for you.  He is, however, a very
+particular sort of person--wants a companion, and has a horror of
+anything evangelical; wishes, therefore, to see you before he decides.
+If you can meet me in London, some day next month, I'll present you to
+him, and I have no doubt it will be settled.  You must think it strange I
+never wrote to you since we parted, but you know I never was a very good
+correspondent; and as I had nothing to communicate advantageous to you I
+thought it a sort of insult to enlarge on my own happiness, and so forth.
+All I shall say on that score is, that I've sown my wild oats; and that
+you may take my word for it, there's nothing that can make a man know how
+large, the heart is, and how little the world, till he comes home
+(perhaps after a hard day's hunting) and sees his own fireside, and hears
+one dear welcome; and--oh, by the way, Caleb, if you could but see my
+boy, the sturdiest little rogue!  But enough of this.  All that vexes me
+is, that I've never yet been able to declare my marriage: my uncle,
+however, suspects nothing: my wife bears up against all, like an angel as
+she is; still, in case of any accident, it occurs to me, now I'm writing
+to you, especially if you leave the place, that it may be as well to send
+me an examined copy of the register.  In those remote places registers
+are often lost or mislaid; and it may be useful hereafter, when I
+proclaim the marriage, to clear up all doubt as to the fact.
+"Good-bye, old fellow,
+"Yours most truly, &c., &c."
+
+
+"It comes too late," sighed Caleb, heavily; and the letter fell from his
+hands.  There was a long pause.  "Close the shutters," said the sick man,
+at last; "I think I could sleep: and--and--pick up that letter."
+
+With a trembling, but eager gripe, he seized the paper, as a miser would
+seize the deeds of an estate on which he has a mortgage.  He smoothed the
+folds, looked complacently at the well-known hand, smiled--a ghastly
+smile! and then placed the letter under his pillow, and sank down; they
+left him alone.  He did not wake for some hours, and that good clergyman,
+poor as himself, was again at his post.  The only friendships that are
+really with us in the hour of need are those which are cemented by
+equality of circumstance.  In the depth of home, in the hour of
+tribulation, by the bed of death, the rich and the poor are seldom found
+side by side.  Caleb was evidently much feebler; but his sense seemed
+clearer than it had been, and the instincts of his native kindness were
+the last that left him.  "There is something he wants me do for him," he
+muttered.
+
+"Ah! I remember:  Jones, will you send for the parish register?  It is
+somewhere in the vestry-room, I think--but nothing's kept properly.
+Better go yourself--'tis important."
+
+Mr. Jones nodded, and sallied forth.  The register was not in the vestry;
+the church-wardens knew nothing about it; the clerk--a new clerk, who was
+also the sexton, and rather a wild fellow--had gone ten miles off to a
+wedding: every place was searched; till, at last, the book was found,
+amidst a heap of old magazines and dusty papers, in the parlour of Caleb
+himself.  By the time it was brought to him, the sufferer was fast
+declining; with some difficulty his dim eye discovered the place where,
+amidst the clumsy pothooks of the parishioners, the large clear hand of
+the old friend, and the trembling characters of the bride, looked forth,
+distinguished.
+
+"Extract this for me, will you?"  said Caleb.  Mr. Jones obeyed.
+
+"Now, just write above the extract:
+
+"'Sir,--By Mr. Price's desire I send you the inclosed.  He is too ill to
+write himself.  But he bids me say that he has never been quite the same
+man since you left him; and that, if he should not get well again, still
+your kind letter has made him easier in his mind."
+
+Caleb stopped.
+
+"Go on."
+
+"That is all I have to say: sign your name, and put the address--here it
+is.  Ah, the letter," he muttered, "must not lie about!  If anything
+happens to me, it may get him into trouble."
+
+And as Mr. Jones sealed his communication, Caleb feebly stretched his wan
+hand, held the letter which had "come too late" over the flame of the
+candle.  As the blazing paper dropped on the carpetless floor, Mr. Jones
+prudently set thereon the broad sole of his top-boot, and the maidservant
+brushed the tinder into the grate.
+
+"Ah, trample it out:--hurry it amongst the ashes.  The last as the rest,"
+said Caleb, hoarsely.  "Friendship, fortune, hope, love, life--a little
+flame, and then--and then--"
+
+"Don't be uneasy--it's quite out!"  said Mr. Jones.  Caleb turned his
+face to the wall.  He lingered till the next day, when he passed
+insensibly from sleep to death.  As soon as the breath was out of his
+body, Mr. Jones felt that his duty was discharged, that other duties
+called him home.  He promised to return to read the burial-service over
+the deceased, gave some hasty orders about the plain funeral, and was
+turning from the room, when he saw the letter he had written by Caleb's
+wish, still on the table.  "I pass the post-office--I'll put it in," said
+he to the weeping servant; "and just give me that scrap of paper."  So he
+wrote on the scrap, "P. S.  He died this morning at half-past twelve,
+without pain.--M. J.;" and not taking the trouble to break the seal,
+thrust the final bulletin into the folds of the letter, which he then
+carefully placed in his vast pocket, and safely transferred to the post.
+And that was all that the jovial and happy man, to whom the letter was
+addressed, ever heard of the last days of his college friend.
+
+The living, vacant by the death of Caleb Price, was not so valuable as to
+plague the patron with many applications.  It continued vacant nearly the
+whole of the six months prescribed by law.  And the desolate parsonage
+was committed to the charge of one of the villagers, who had occasionally
+assisted Caleb in the care of his little garden.  The villager, his wife,
+and half-a-dozen noisy, ragged children, took possession of the quiet
+bachelor's abode.  The furniture had been sold to pay the expenses of the
+funeral, and a few trifling bills; and, save the kitchen and the two
+attics, the empty house, uninhabited, was surrendered to the sportive
+mischief of the idle urchins, who prowled about the silent chambers in
+fear of the silence, and in ecstasy at the space.  The bedroom in which
+Caleb had died was, indeed, long held sacred by infantine superstition.
+But one day the eldest boy having ventured across the threshold, two
+cupboards, the doors standing ajar, attracted the child's curiosity.  He
+opened one, and his exclamation soon brought the rest of the children
+round him.  Have you ever, reader, when a boy, suddenly stumbled on that
+El Dorado, called by the grown-up folks a lumber room?  Lumber, indeed!
+what _Virtu_ double-locks in cabinets is the real lumber to the boy!
+Lumber, reader! to thee it was a treasury!  Now this cupboard had been
+the lumber-room in Caleb's household.  In an instant the whole troop had
+thrown themselves on the motley contents.  Stray joints of clumsy
+fishing-rods; artificial baits; a pair of worn-out top-boots, in which
+one of the urchins, whooping and shouting, buried himself up to the
+middle; moth-eaten, stained, and ragged, the collegian's gown-relic of
+the dead man's palmy time; a bag of carpenter's tools, chiefly broken; a
+cricket-bat; an odd boxing-glove; a fencing-foil, snapped in the middle;
+and, more than all, some half-finished attempts at rude toys: a boat, a
+cart, a doll's house, in which the good-natured Caleb had busied himself
+for the younger ones of that family in which he had found the fatal ideal
+of his trite life.  One by one were these lugged forth from their dusty
+slumber-profane hands struggling for the first right of appropriation.
+And now, revealed against the wall, glared upon the startled violators of
+the sanctuary, with glassy eyes and horrent visage, a grim monster.  They
+huddled back one upon the other, pale and breathless, till the eldest,
+seeing that the creature moved not, took heart, approached on tip-toe-
+twice receded, and twice again advanced, and finally drew out, daubed,
+painted, and tricked forth in the semblance of a griffin, a gigantic
+kite.
+
+The children, alas! were not old and wise enough to knew all the dormant
+value of that imprisoned aeronaut, which had cost Caleb many a dull
+evening's labour--the intended gift to the false one's favourite brother.
+But they guessed that it was a thing or spirit appertaining of right to
+them; and they resolved, after mature consultation, to impart the secret
+of their discovery to an old wooden-legged villager, who had served in
+the army, who was the idol of all the children of the place, and who,
+they firmly believed, knew everything under the sun, except the mystical
+arts of reading and writing.  Accordingly, having seen that the coast was
+clear--for they considered their parents (as the children of the hard-
+working often do) the natural foes to amusement--they carried the monster
+into an old outhouse, and ran to the veteran to beg him to come up slyly
+and inspect its properties.
+
+Three months after this memorable event, arrived the new pastor--a slim,
+prim, orderly, and starch young man, framed by nature and trained by
+practice to bear a great deal of solitude and starving.  Two loving
+couples had waited to be married till his Reverence should arrive.  The
+ceremony performed, where was the registry-book?  The vestry was
+searched-the church-wardens interrogated; the gay clerk, who, on the
+demise of his deaf predecessor, had come into office a little before
+Caleb's last illness, had a dim recollection of having taken the registry
+up to Mr. Price at the time the vestry-room was whitewashed.  The house
+was searched--the cupboard, the mysterious cupboard, was explored.  "Here
+it is, sir!"  cried the clerk; and he pounced upon a pale parchment
+volume.  The thin clergyman opened it, and recoiled in dismay--more than
+three-fourths of the leaves had been torn out.
+
+"It is the moths, sir," said the gardener's wife, who had not yet removed
+from the house.
+
+The clergyman looked round; one of the children was trembling.  "What
+have you done to this book, little one?"
+
+"That book?--the--hi!--hi!--"
+
+"Speak the truth, and you sha'n't be punished."
+
+"I did not know it was any harm--hi!--hi!--"
+
+"Well, and--"
+
+"And old Ben helped us."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"And--and--and--hi!--hi!--The tail of the kite, sir!--"
+
+"Where is the kite?"
+
+Alas!  the kite and its tail were long ago gone to that undiscovered
+limbo where all things lost, broken, vanished, and destroyed; things that
+lose themselves--for servants are too honest to steal; things that break
+themselves--for servants are too careful to break; find an everlasting
+and impenetrable refuge.
+
+"It does not signify a pin's head," said the clerk; "the parish must find
+a new 'un!"
+
+"It is no fault of mine," said the Pastor.  "Are my chops ready?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+"And soothed with idle dreams the frowning fate."--CRABBE.
+
+"Why does not my father come back?  what a time he has been away!"
+
+"My dear Philip, business detains him; but he will be here in a few days
+--perhaps to-day!"
+
+"I should like him to see how much I am improved."
+
+"Improved in what, Philip?"  said the mother, with a smile.  "Not Latin,
+I am sure; for I have not seen you open a book since you insisted on poor
+Todd's dismissal."
+
+"Todd!  Oh, he was such a scrub, and spoke through his nose: what could
+he know of Latin?"
+
+"More than you ever will, I fear, unless--" and here there was a certain
+hesitation in the mother's voice, "unless your father consents to your
+going to school."
+
+"Well, I should like to go to Eton!  That's the only school for a
+gentleman.  I've heard my father say so."
+
+"Philip, you are too proud."--"Proud!  you often call me proud; but,
+then, you kiss me when you do so.  Kiss me now, mother."
+
+The lady drew her son to her breast, put aside the clustering hair from
+his forehead, and kissed him; but the kiss was sad, and the moment after
+she pushed him away gently and muttered, unconscious that she was
+overheard:
+
+"If, after all, my devotion to the father should wrong the children!"
+
+The boy started, and a cloud passed over his brow; but he said nothing.
+A light step entered the room through the French casements that opened on
+the lawn, and the mother turned to her youngest-born, and her eye
+brightened.
+
+"Mamma! mamma! here is a letter for you.  I snatched it from John: it is
+papa's handwriting."
+
+The lady uttered a joyous exclamation, and seized the letter.  The
+younger child nestled himself on a stool at her feet, looking up while
+she read it; the elder stood apart, leaning on his gun, and with
+something of thought, even of gloom, upon his countenance.
+
+There was a strong contrast in the two boys.  The elder, who was about
+fifteen, seemed older than he was, not only from his height, but from the
+darkness of his complexion, and a certain proud, nay, imperious,
+expression upon features that, without having the soft and fluent graces
+of childhood, were yet regular and striking.  His dark-green shooting-
+dress, with the belt and pouch, the cap, with its gold tassel set upon
+his luxuriant curls, which had the purple gloss of the raven's plume,
+blended perhaps something prematurely manly in his own tastes, with the
+love of the fantastic and the picturesque which bespeaks the presiding
+genius of the proud mother.  The younger son had scarcely told his ninth
+year; and the soft, auburn ringlets, descending half-way down the
+shoulders; the rich and delicate bloom that exhibits at once the hardy
+health and the gentle fostering; the large deep-blue eyes; the flexile
+and almost effeminate contour of the harmonious features; altogether made
+such an ideal of childlike beauty as Lawrence had loved to paint or
+Chantrey model.  And the daintiest cares of a mother, who, as yet, has
+her darling all to herself--her toy, her plaything--were visible in the
+large falling collar of finest cambric, and the blue velvet dress with
+its filigree buttons and embroidered sash.
+
+Both the boys had about them the air of those whom Fate ushers blandly
+into life; the air of wealth, and birth, and luxury, spoiled and pampered
+as if earth had no thorn for their feet, and heaven not a wind to visit
+their young cheeks too roughly.  The mother had been extremely handsome;
+and though the first bloom of youth was now gone, she had still the
+beauty that might captivate new love--an easier task than to retain the
+old.  Both her sons, though differing from each other, resembled her; she
+had the features of the younger; and probably any one who had seen her in
+her own earlier youth would have recognized in that child's gay yet
+gentle countenance the mirror of the mother when a girl.  Now, however,
+especially when silent or thoughtful, the expression of her face was
+rather that of the elder boy;--the cheek, once so rosy was now pale,
+though clear, with something which time had given, of pride and thought,
+in the curved lip and the high forehead.  One who could have looked on
+her in her more lonely hours, might have seen that the pride had known
+shame, and the thought was the shadow of the passions of fear and sorrow.
+
+But now as she read those hasty, brief, but well-remembered characters--
+read as one whose heart was in her eyes--joy and triumph alone were
+visible in that eloquent countenance.  Her eyes flashed, her breast
+heaved; and at length, clasping the letter to her lips, she kissed it
+again and again with passionate transport.  Then, as her eyes met the
+dark, inquiring, earnest gaze of her eldest born, she flung her arms
+round him, and wept vehemently.
+
+"What is the matter, mamma, dear mamma?" said the youngest, pushing
+himself between Philip and his mother.  "Your father is coming back, this
+day--this very hour;--and you--you--child--you, Philip--" Here sobs broke
+in upon her words, and left her speechless.
+
+The letter that had produced this effect ran as follows:
+
+TO MRS MORTON, Fernside Cottage.
+
+"DEAREST KATE,--My last letter prepared you for the news I have now to
+relate--my poor uncle is no more.  Though I had seen little of him,
+especially of late years, his death sensibly affected me; but I have at
+least the consolation of thinking that there is nothing now to prevent my
+doing justice to you.  I am the sole heir to his fortune--I have it in my
+power, dearest Kate, to offer you a tardy recompense for all you have put
+up with for my sake;--a sacred testimony to your long forbearance, your
+unreproachful love, your wrongs, and your devotion.  Our children, too--
+my noble Philip!--kiss them, Kate--kiss them for me a thousand times.
+
+"I write in great haste--the burial is just over, and my letter will only
+serve to announce my return.  My darling Catherine, I shall be with you
+almost as soon as these lines meet your eyes--those clear eyes, that, for
+all the tears they have shed for my faults and follies, have never looked
+the less kind.  Yours, ever as ever,
+
+"PHILIP BEAUFORT.
+
+
+This letter has told its tale, and little remains to explain.  Philip
+Beaufort was one of those men of whom there are many in his peculiar
+class of society--easy, thoughtless, good-humoured, generous, with
+feelings infinitely better than his principles.
+
+Inheriting himself but a moderate fortune, which was three parts in the
+hands of the Jews before he was twenty-five, he had the most brilliant
+expectations from his uncle; an old bachelor, who, from a courtier, had
+turned a misanthrope--cold--shrewd--penetrating--worldly--sarcastic--and
+imperious; and from this relation he received, meanwhile, a handsome and,
+indeed, munificent allowance.  About sixteen years before the date at
+which this narrative opens, Philip Beaufort had "run off," as the saying
+is, with Catherine Morton, then little more than a child,--a motherless
+child--educated at a boarding-school to notions and desires far beyond
+her station; for she was the daughter of a provincial tradesman.  And
+Philip Beaufort, in the prime of life, was possessed of most of the
+qualities that dazzle the eyes and many of the arts that betray the
+affections.  It was suspected by some that they were privately married:
+if so, the secret had been closely kept, and baffled all the inquiries of
+the stern old uncle.  Still there was much, not only in the manner, at
+once modest and dignified, but in the character of Catherine, which was
+proud and high-spirited, to give colour to the suspicion.  Beaufort, a
+man naturally careless of forms, paid her a marked and punctilious
+respect; and his attachment was evidently one not only of passion, but
+of confidence and esteem.  Time developed in her mental qualities far
+superior to those of Beaufort, and for these she had ample leisure of
+cultivation.  To the influence derived from her mind and person she added
+that of a frank, affectionate, and winning disposition; their children
+cemented the bond between them.  Mr. Beaufort was passionately attached
+to field sports.  He lived the greater part of the year with Catherine,
+at the beautiful cottage to which he had built hunting stables that were
+the admiration of the county; and though the cottage was near London, the
+pleasures of the metropolis seldom allured him for more than a few days--
+generally but a few hours-at a time; and he--always hurried back with
+renewed relish to what he considered his home.
+
+Whatever the connection between Catherine and himself (and of the true
+nature of that connection, the Introductory Chapter has made the reader
+more enlightened than the world), her influence had, at least, weaned
+from all excesses, and many follies, a man who, before he knew her, had
+seemed likely, from the extreme joviality and carelessness of his nature,
+and a very imperfect education, to contract whatever vices were most in
+fashion as preservatives against _ennui_.  And if their union had been
+openly hallowed by the Church, Philip Beaufort had been universally
+esteemed the model of a tender husband and a fond father.  Ever, as he
+became more and more acquainted with Catherine's natural good qualities,
+and more and more attached to his home, had Mr. Beaufort, with the
+generosity of true affection, desired to remove from her the pain of an
+equivocal condition by a public marriage.  But Mr. Beaufort, though
+generous, was not free from the worldliness which had met him everywhere,
+amidst the society in which his youth had been spent.  His uncle, the
+head of one of those families which yearly vanish from the commonalty
+into the peerage, but which once formed a distinguished peculiarity in
+the aristocracy of England--families of ancient birth, immense
+possessions, at once noble and untitled--held his estates by no other
+tenure than his own caprice.  Though he professed to like Philip, yet he
+saw but little of him.  When the news of the illicit connection his
+nephew was reported to have formed reached him, he at first resolved to
+break it off; but observing that Philip no longer gambled, nor ran in
+debt, and had retired from the turf to the safer and more economical
+pastimes of the field, he contented himself with inquiries which
+satisfied him that Philip was not married; and perhaps he thought it, on
+the whole, more prudent to wink at an error that was not attended by the
+bills which had here-to-fore characterised the human infirmities of his
+reckless nephew.  He took care, however, incidentally, and in reference
+to some scandal of the day, to pronounce his opinion, not upon the fault,
+but upon the only mode of repairing it.
+
+"If ever," said he, and he looked grimly at Philip while he spoke, "a
+gentleman were to disgrace his ancestry by introducing into his family
+one whom his own sister could not receive at her house, why, he ought to
+sink to her level, and wealth would but make his disgrace the more
+notorious.  If I had an only son, and that son were booby enough to do
+anything so discreditable as to marry beneath him, I would rather have my
+footman for my successor.  You understand, Phil!"
+
+Philip did understand, and looked round at the noble house and the
+stately park, and his generosity was not equal to the trial.  Catherine
+--so great was her power over him--might, perhaps, have easily triumphed
+over his more selfish calculations; but her love was too delicate ever to
+breathe, of itself, the hope that lay deepest at her heart.  And her
+children!--ah! for them she pined, but for them she also hoped.  Before
+them was a long future, and she had all confidence in Philip.  Of late,
+there had been considerable doubts how far the elder Beaufort would
+realise the expectations in which his nephew had been reared.  Philip's
+younger brother had been much with the old gentleman, and appeared to be
+in high favour: this brother was a man in every respect the opposite to
+Philip--sober, supple, decorous, ambitious, with a face of smiles and a
+heart of ice.
+
+But the old gentleman was taken dangerously ill, and Philip was summoned
+to his bed of death.  Robert, the younger brother, was there also, with
+his wife (who he had married prudently) and his children (he had two, a
+son and a daughter).  Not a word did the uncle say as to the disposition
+of his property till an hour before he died.  And then, turning in his
+bed, he looked first at one nephew, then at the other, and faltered out:
+
+"Philip, you are a scapegrace, but a gentleman!  Robert, you are a
+careful, sober, plausible man; and it is a great pity you were not in
+business; you would have made a fortune!--you won't inherit one, though
+you think it: I have marked you, sir.  Philip, beware of your brother.
+Now let me see the parson."
+
+The old man died; the will was read; and Philip succeeded to a rental of
+L20,000. a-year; Robert, to a diamond ring, a gold repeater, L5,000. and
+a curious collection of bottled snakes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+     "Stay, delightful Dream;
+
+     Let him within his pleasant garden walk;
+     Give him her arm--of blessings let them talk."--CRABBE.
+
+"There, Robert, there! now you can see the new stables.  By Jove, they
+are the completest thing in the three kingdoms!"
+
+"Quite a pile!  But is that the house?  You lodge your horses more
+magnificently than yourself."
+
+"But is it not a beautiful cottage?--to be sure, it owes everything to
+Catherine's taste.  Dear Catherine!"
+
+Mr. Robert Beaufort, for this colloquy took place between the brothers,
+as their britska rapidly descended the hill, at the foot of which lay
+Fernside Cottage and its miniature demesnes--Mr. Robert Beaufort pulled
+his travelling cap over his brows, and his countenance fell, whether at
+the name of Catherine, or the tone in which the name was uttered; and
+there was a pause, broken by a third occupant of the britska, a youth of
+about seventeen, who sat opposite the brothers.
+
+"And who are those boys on the lawn, uncle?"
+
+"Who are those boys?"  It was a simple question, but it grated on the ear
+of Mr. Robert Beaufort--it struck discord at his heart.  "Who were those
+boys?"  as they ran across the sward, eager to welcome their father home;
+the westering sun shining full on their joyous faces--their young forms
+so lithe and so graceful--their merry laughter ringing in the still air.
+"Those boys," thought Mr. Robert Beaufort, "the sons of shame, rob mine
+of his inheritance."  The elder brother turned round at his nephew's
+question, and saw the expression on Robert's face.  He bit his lip, and
+answered, gravely:
+
+"Arthur, they are my children."
+
+"I did not know you were married," replied Arthur, bending forward to
+take a better view of his cousins.
+
+Mr. Robert Beaufort smiled bitterly, and Philip's brow grew crimson.
+
+The carriage stopped at the little lodge.  Philip opened the door, and
+jumped to the ground; the brother and his son followed.  A moment more,
+and Philip was locked in Catherine's arms, her tears falling fast upon
+his breast; his children plucking at his coat; and the younger one crying
+in his shrill, impatient treble, "Papa! papa! you don't see Sidney,
+papa!"
+
+Mr. Robert Beaufort placed his hand on his son's shoulder, and arrested
+his steps, as they contemplated the group before them.
+
+"Arthur," said he, in a hollow whisper, "those children are our disgrace
+and your supplanters; they are bastards! bastards! and they are to be his
+heirs!"
+
+Arthur made no answer, but the smile with which he had hitherto gazed on
+his new relations vanished.
+
+"Kate," said Mr. Beaufort, as he turned from Mrs. Morton, and lifted his
+youngest-born in his arms, "this is my brother and his son: they are
+welcome, are they not?"
+
+Mr. Robert bowed low, and extended his hand, with stiff affability, to
+Mrs. Morton, muttering something equally complimentary and inaudible.
+
+The party proceeded towards the house.  Philip and Arthur brought up the
+rear.
+
+"Do you shoot?"  asked Arthur, observing the gun in his cousin's hand.
+
+"Yes.  I hope this season to bag as many head as my father: he is a
+famous shot.  But this is only a single barrel, and an old-fashioned sort
+of detonator.  My father must get me one of the new gulls.  I can't
+afford it myself."
+
+"I should think not," said Arthur, smiling.
+
+"Oh, as to that," resumed Philip, quickly, and with a heightened colour,
+"I could have managed it very well if I had not given thirty guineas for
+a brace of pointers the other day: they are the best dogs you ever saw."
+
+"Thirty guineas!" echoed Arthur, looking with native surprise at the
+speaker; "why, how old are you?"
+
+"Just fifteen last birthday.  Holla, John!  John Green!"  cried the young
+gentleman in an imperious voice, to one of the gardeners, who was
+crossing the lawn, "see that the nets are taken down to the lake
+to-morrow, and that my tent is pitched properly, by the lime-trees, by
+nine o'clock.  I hope you will understand me this time: Heaven knows you
+take a deal of telling before you understand anything!"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Philip," said the man, bowing obsequiously; and then muttered,
+as he went off, "Drat the nat'rel!  He speaks to a poor man as if he
+warn't flesh and blood."
+
+"Does your father keep hunters?" asked Philip.
+
+"No."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Perhaps one reason may be, that he is not rich enough."
+
+"Oh! that's a pity.  Never mind, we'll mount you, whenever you like to
+pay us a visit."
+
+Young Arthur drew himself up, and his air, naturally frank and gentle,
+became haughty and reserved.  Philip gazed on him, and felt offended; he
+scarce knew why, but from that moment he conceived a dislike to his
+cousin.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+     "For a man is helpless and vain, of a condition so exposed to
+     calamity that a raisin is able to kill him; any trooper out of the
+     Egyptian army--a fly can do it, when it goes on God's errand."--
+     JEREMY TAYLOR _On the Deceitfulness of the Heart_.
+
+The two brothers sat at their wine after dinner.  Robert sipped claret,
+the sturdy Philip quaffed his more generous port.  Catherine and the boys
+might be seen at a little distance, and by the light of a soft August
+moon, among the shrubs and boseluets of the lawn.
+
+Philip Beaufort was about five-and-forty, tall, robust, nay, of great
+strength of frame and limb; with a countenance extremely winning, not
+only from the comeliness of its features, but its frankness, manliness,
+and good nature.  His was the bronzed, rich complexion, the inclination
+towards embonpoint, the athletic girth of chest, which denote redundant
+health, and mirthful temper, and sanguine blood.  Robert, who had lived
+the life of cities, was a year younger than his brother; nearly as tall,
+but pale, meagre, stooping, and with a careworn, anxious, hungry look,
+which made the smile that hung upon his lips seem hollow and artificial.
+His dress, though plain, was neat and studied; his manner, bland and
+plausible; his voice, sweet and low: there was that about him which, if
+it did not win liking, tended to excite respect--a certain decorum, a
+nameless propriety of appearance and bearing, that approached a little to
+formality: his every movement, slow and measured, was that of one who
+paced in the circle that fences round the habits and usages of the world.
+
+"Yes," said Philip, "I had always decided to take this step, whenever my
+poor uncle's death should allow me to do so.  You have seen Catherine,
+but you do not know half her good qualities: she would grace any station;
+and, besides, she nursed me so carefully last year, when I broke my
+collar-bone in that cursed steeple-chase.  Egad, I am getting too heavy
+and growing too old for such schoolboy pranks."
+
+"I have no doubt of Mrs. Morton's excellence, and I honour your motives;
+still, when you talk of her gracing any station, you must not forget, my
+dear brother, that she will be no more received as Mrs. Beaufort than she
+is now as Mrs. Morton."
+
+"But I tell you, Robert, that I am really married to her already; that
+she would never have left her home but on that condition; that we were
+married the very day we met after her flight."
+
+Robert's thin lips broke into a slight sneer of incredulity.  "My dear
+brother, you do right to say this--any man in your situation would say
+the same.  But I know that my uncle took every pains to ascertain if the
+report of a private marriage were true."
+
+"And you helped him in the search.  Eh, Bob?"
+
+Bob slightly blushed.  Philip went on.
+
+"Ha, ha! to be sure you did; you knew that such a discovery would have
+done for me in the old gentleman's good opinion.  But I blinded you both,
+ha, ha!  The fact is, that we were married with the greatest privacy;
+that even now, I own, it would be difficult for Catherine herself to
+establish the fact, unless I wished it.  I am ashamed to think that I
+have never even told her where I keep the main proof of the marriage.
+I induced one witness to leave the country, the other must be long since
+dead: my poor friend, too, who officiated, is no more.  Even the
+register, Bob, the register itself, has been destroyed: and yet,
+notwithstanding, I will prove the ceremony and clear up poor Catherine's
+fame; for I have the attested copy of the register safe and sound.
+Catherine not married!  why, look at her, man!"
+
+Mr. Robert Beaufort glanced at the window for a moment, but his
+countenance was still that of one unconvinced.  "Well, brother," said he,
+dipping his fingers in the water-glass, "it is not for me to contradict
+you.  It is a very curious tale--parson dead--witnesses missing.  But
+still, as I said before, if you are resolved on a public marriage, you
+are wise to insist that there has been a previous private one.  Yet,
+believe me, Philip," continued Robert, with solemn earnestness, "the
+world--"
+
+"Damn the world!  What do I care for the world!  We don't want to go to
+routs and balls, and give dinners to fine people.  I shall live much the
+same as I have always done; only, I shall now keep the hounds--they are
+very indifferently kept at present--and have a yacht; and engage the best
+masters for the boys.  Phil wants to go to Eton, but I know what Eton is:
+poor fellow! his feelings might be hurt there, if others are as sceptical
+as yourself.  I suppose my old friends will not be less civil now I have
+L20,000. a year.  And as for the society of women, between you and me, I
+don't care a rush for any woman but Catherine: poor Katty!"
+
+"Well, you are the best judge of your own affairs: you don't misinterpret
+my motives?"
+
+"My dear Bob, no.  I am quite sensible how kind it is in you--a man of
+your starch habits and strict views, coming here to pay a mark of respect
+to Kate (Mr. Robert turned uneasily in his chair)--even before you knew
+of the private marriage, and I'm sure I don't blame you for never having
+done it before.  You did quite right to try your chance with my uncle."
+
+Mr. Robert turned in his chair again, still more uneasily, and cleared
+his voice as if to speak.  But Philip tossed off his wine, and proceeded,
+without heeding his brother,--
+
+"And though the poor old man does not seem to have liked you the better
+for consulting his scruples, yet we must make up for the partiality of
+his will.  Let me see--what with your wife's fortune, you muster L2000.
+a year?"
+
+"Only L1500., Philip, and Arthur's education is growing expensive.  Next
+year he goes to college.  He is certainly very clever, and I have great
+hopes--"
+
+"That he will do Honour to us all--so have I.  He is a noble young
+fellow: and I think my Philip may find a great deal to learn from him,--
+Phil is a sad idle dog; but with a devil of a spirit, and sharp as a
+needle.  I wish you could see him ride.  Well, to return to Arthur.
+Don't trouble yourself about his education--that shall be my care.  He
+shall go to Christ Church--a gentleman-commoner, of course--and when he
+is of age we'll get him into parliament.  Now for yourself, Bob.  I shall
+sell the town-house in Berkeley Square, and whatever it brings you shall
+have.  Besides that, I'll add L1500. a year to your L1000.--so that's
+said and done.  Pshaw!  brothers should be brothers.--Let's come out and
+play with the boys!"
+
+The two Beauforts stepped through the open casement into the lawn.
+
+"You look pale, Bob--all you London fellows do.  As for me, I feel as
+strong as a horse: much better than when I was one of your gay dogs
+straying loose about the town'.  'Gad, I have never had a moment's ill
+health, except from a fall now and then.  I feel as if I should live for
+ever, and that's the reason why I could never make a will."
+
+"Have you never, then, made your will?"
+
+"Never as yet.  Faith, till now, I had little enough to leave.  But now
+that all this great Beaufort property is at my own disposal, I must think
+of Kate's jointure.  By Jove! now I speak of it, I will ride to ----
+to-morrow, and consult the lawyer there both about the will and the
+marriage.  You will stay for the wedding?"
+
+"Why, I must go into --shire to-morrow evening, to place Arthur with his
+tutor.  But I'll return for the wedding, if you particularly wish it:
+only Mrs. Beaufort is a woman of very strict--"
+
+"I--do particularly wish it," interrupted Philip, gravely; "for I desire,
+for Catherine's sake, that you, my sole surviving relation, may not seem
+to withhold your countenance from an act of justice to her.  And as for
+your wife, I fancy L1500. a year would reconcile her to my marrying out
+of the Penitentiary."
+
+Mr. Robert bowed his head, coughed huskily, and said, "I appreciate your
+generous affection, Philip."
+
+The next morning, while the elder parties were still over the breakfast-
+table, the younger people were in the grounds it was a lovely day, one of
+the last of the luxuriant August--and Arthur, as he looked round, thought
+he had never seen a more beautiful place.  It was, indeed, just the spot
+to captivate a youthful and susceptible fancy.  The village of Fernside,
+though in one of the counties adjoining Middlesex, and as near to London
+as the owner's passionate pursuits of the field would permit, was yet as
+rural and sequestered as if a hundred miles distant from the smoke of the
+huge city.  Though the dwelling was called a cottage, Philip had enlarged
+the original modest building into a villa of some pretensions.  On either
+side a graceful and well-proportioned portico stretched verandahs,
+covered with roses and clematis; to the right extended a range of costly
+conservatories, terminating in vistas of trellis-work which formed those
+elegant alleys called rosaries, and served to screen the more useful
+gardens from view.  The lawn, smooth and even, was studded with American
+plants and shrubs in flower, and bounded on one side by a small lake, on
+the opposite bank of which limes and cedars threw their shadows over the
+clear waves.  On the other side a light fence separated the grounds from
+a large paddock, in which three or four hunters grazed in indolent
+enjoyment.  It was one of those cottages which bespeak the ease and
+luxury not often found in more ostentatious mansions--an abode which, at
+sixteen, the visitor contemplates with vague notions of poetry and love--
+which, at forty, he might think dull and d---d expensive-which, at sixty,
+he would pronounce to be damp in winter, and full of earwigs in the
+summer.  Master Philip was leaning on his gun; Master Sidney was chasing
+a peacock butterfly; Arthur was silently gazing on the shining lake and
+the still foliage that drooped over its surface.  In the countenance of
+this young man there was something that excited a certain interest.  He
+was less handsome than Philip, but the expression of his face was more
+prepossessing.  There was something of pride in the forehead; but of good
+nature, not unmixed with irresolution and weakness, in the curves of the
+mouth.  He was more delicate of frame than Philip; and the colour of his
+complexion was not that of a robust constitution.  His movements were
+graceful and self-possessed, and he had his father's sweetness of voice.
+"This is really beautiful!--I envy you, cousin Philip."
+
+"Has not your father got a country-house?"
+
+"No: we live either in London or at some hot, crowded watering-place."
+
+"Yes; this is very nice during the shooting and hunting season.  But my
+old nurse says we shall have a much finer place now.  I liked this very
+well till I saw Lord Belville's place.  But it is very unpleasant not to
+have the finest house in the county: _aut Caesar aut nullus_--that's my
+motto.  Ah! do you see that swallow?  I'll bet you a guinea I hit it."
+"No, poor thing! don't hurt it."  But ere the remonstrance was uttered,
+the bird lay quivering on the ground.  "It is just September, and one
+must keep one's hand in," said Philip, as he reloaded his gun.
+
+To Arthur this action seemed a wanton cruelty; it was rather the wanton
+recklessness which belongs to a wild boy accustomed to gratify the
+impulse of the moment--the recklessness which is not cruelty in the boy,
+but which prosperity may pamper into cruelty in the man.  And scarce had
+he reloaded his gun before the neigh of a young colt came from the
+neighbouring paddock, and Philip bounded to the fence.  "He calls me,
+poor fellow; you shall see him feed from my hand.  Run in for a piece of
+bread--a large piece, Sidney."  The boy and the animal seemed to
+understand each other.  "I see you don't like horses," he said to Arthur.
+As for me, I love dogs, horses--every dumb creature."
+
+"Except swallows."  said Arthur, with a half smile, and a little
+surprised at the inconsistency of the boast.
+
+"Oh! that is short,--all fair: it is not to hurt the swallow--it is to
+obtain skill," said Philip, colouring; and then, as if not quite easy
+with his own definition, he turned away abruptly.
+
+"This is dull work--suppose we fish.  By Jove!"  (he had caught his
+father's expletive) "that blockhead has put the tent on the wrong side of
+the lake, after all.  Holla, you, sir!"  and the unhappy gardener looked
+up from his flower-beds; "what ails you?  I have a great mind to tell my
+father of you--you grow stupider every day.  I told you to put the tent
+under the lime-trees."
+
+"We could not manage it, sir; the boughs were in the way."
+
+"And why did you not cut the boughs, blockhead?"
+
+"I did not dare do so, sir, without master's orders," said the man
+doggedly.
+
+"My orders are sufficient, I should think; so none of your impertinence,"
+cried Philip, with a raised colour; and lifting his hand, in which he
+held his ramrod, he shook it menacingly over the gardener's head,--"I've
+a great mind to----"
+
+"What's the matter, Philip?"  cried the good-humoured voice of his
+father.  "Fie!"
+
+"This fellow does not mind what I say, sir."
+
+"I did not like to cut the boughs of the lime-trees without your orders,
+sir," said the gardener.
+
+"No, it would be a pity to cut them.  You should consult me there, Master
+Philip;" and the father shook him by the collar with a good-natured, and
+affectionate, but rough sort of caress.
+
+"Be quiet, father!"  said the boy, petulantly and proudly; "or," he
+added, in a lower voice, but one which showed emotion, "my cousin may
+think you mean less kindly than you always do, sir."
+
+The father was touched: "Go and cut the lime-boughs, John; and always do
+as Mr. Philip tells you."
+
+The mother was behind, and she sighed audibly.  "Ah! dearest, I fear you
+will spoil him."
+
+"Is he not your son?  and do we not owe him the more respect for having
+hitherto allowed others to--"
+
+He stopped, and the mother could say no more.  And thus it was, that this
+boy of powerful character and strong passions had, from motives the most
+amiable, been pampered from the darling into the despot.
+
+"And now, Kate, I will, as I told you last night, ride over to ---- and
+fix the earliest day for our public marriage: I will ask the lawyer to
+dine here, to talk about the proper steps for proving the private one."
+
+"Will that be difficult" asked Catherine, with natural anxiety.
+
+"No,--for if you remember, I had the precaution to get an examined copy
+of the register; otherwise, I own to you, I should have been alarmed.  I
+don't know what has be come of Smith.  I heard some time since from his
+father that he had left the colony; and (I never told you before--it
+would have made you uneasy) once, a few years ago, when my uncle again
+got it into his head that we might be married, I was afraid poor Caleb's
+successor might, by chance, betray us.  So I went over to A---- myself,
+being near it when I was staying with Lord C----, in order to see how far
+it might be necessary to secure the parson; and, only think!  I found an
+accident had happened to the register--so, as the clergyman could know
+nothing, I kept my own counsel.  How lucky I have the copy!  No doubt the
+lawyer will set all to rights; and, while I am making the settlements, I
+may as well make my will.  I have plenty for both boys, but the dark one
+must be the heir.  Does he not look born to be an eldest son?"
+
+"Ah, Philip!"
+
+"Pshaw! one don't die the sooner for making a will.  Have I the air of a
+man in a consumption?"--and the sturdy sportsman glanced complacently at
+the strength and symmetry of his manly limbs.  "Come, Phil, let's go to
+the stables.  Now, Robert, I will show you what is better worth seeing
+than those miserable flower-beds."  So saying, Mr. Beaufort led the way
+to the courtyard at the back of the cottage.  Catherine and Sidney
+remained on the lawn; the rest followed the host.  The grooms, of whom
+Beaufort was the idol, hastened to show how well the horses had thriven
+in his absence.
+
+"Do see how Brown Bess has come on, sir!  but, to be sure, Master Philip
+keeps her in exercise.  Ah, sir, he will be as good a rider as your
+honour, one of these days."
+
+"He ought to be a better, Tom; for I think he'll never have my weight to
+carry.  Well, saddle Brown Bess for Mr. Philip.  What horse shall I take?
+Ah! here's my old friend, Puppet!"
+
+"I don't know what's come to Puppet, sir; he's off his feed, and turned
+sulky.  I tried him over the bar yesterday; but he was quite restive
+like."
+
+"The devil he was!  So, so, old boy, you shall go over the six-barred
+gate to-day, or we'll know why."  And Mr. Beaufort patted the sleek neck
+of his favourite hunter.  "Put the saddle on him, Tom."
+
+"Yes, your honour.  I sometimes think he is hurt in the loins somehow--he
+don't take to his leaps kindly, and he always tries to bite when we
+bridles him.  Be quiet, sir!"
+
+"Only his airs," said Philip.  I did not know this, or I would have taken
+him over the gate.  Why did not you tell me, Tom?"
+
+"Lord love you, sir!  because you have such a spurret; and if anything
+had come to you--"
+
+"Quite right: you are not weight enough for Puppet, my boy; and he never
+did like any one to back him but myself.  What say you, brother, will you
+ride with us?"
+
+"No, I must go to ---- to-day with Arthur.  I have engaged the post-
+horses at two o'clock; but I shall be with you to-morrow or the day
+after.  You see his tutor expects him; and as he is backward in his
+mathematics, he has no time to lose."
+
+"Well, then, good-bye, nephew!"  and Beaufort slipped a pocket-book into
+the boy's hand.  "Tush! whenever you want money, don't trouble your
+father--write to me--we shall be always glad to see you; and you must
+teach Philip to like his book a little better--eh, Phil?"
+
+"No, father; I shall be rich enough to do without books," said Philip,
+rather coarsely; but then observing the heightened colour of his cousin,
+he went up to him, and with a generous impulse said, "Arthur, you admired
+this gun; pray accept it.  Nay, don't be shy--I can have as many as I
+like for the asking: you're not so well off, you know."
+
+The intention was kind, but the manner was so patronising that Arthur
+felt offended.  He put back the gun, and said, drily, "I shall have no
+occasion for the gun, thank you."
+
+If Arthur was offended by the offer, Philip was much more offended by the
+refusal.  "As you like; I hate pride," said he; and he gave the gun to
+the groom as he vaulted into his saddle with the lightness of a young
+Mercury.  "Come, father!"
+
+Mr. Beaufort had now mounted his favourite hunter--a large, powerful
+horse well known for its prowess in the field.  The rider trotted him
+once or twice through the spacious yard.
+
+"Nonsense, Tom: no more hurt in the loins than I am.  Open that gate; we
+will go across the paddock, and take the gate yonder--the old six-bar--
+eh, Phil?"
+
+"Capital!--to be sure!--"
+
+The gate was opened--the grooms stood watchful to see the leap, and a
+kindred curiosity arrested Robert Beaufort and his son.
+
+How well they looked! those two horsemen; the ease, lightness, spirit of
+the one, with the fine-limbed and fiery steed that literally "bounded
+beneath him as a barb"--seemingly as gay, as ardent, and as haughty as
+the boyrider.  And the manly, and almost herculean form of the elder
+Beaufort, which, from the buoyancy of its movements, and the supple grace
+that belongs to the perfect mastership of any athletic art, possessed an
+elegance and dignity, especially on horseback, which rarely accompanies
+proportions equally sturdy and robust.  There was indeed something
+knightly and chivalrous in the bearing of the elder Beaufort--in his
+handsome aquiline features, the erectness of his mien, the very wave of
+his hand, as he spurred from the yard.
+
+"What a fine-looking fellow my uncle is!" said Arthur, with involuntary
+admiration.
+
+"Ay, an excellent life--amazingly strong!"  returned the pale father,
+with a slight sigh.
+
+"Philip," said Mr. Beaufort, as they cantered across the paddock, "I
+think the gate is too much for you.  I will just take Puppet over, and
+then we will open it for you."
+
+"Pooh, my dear father! you don't know how I'm improved!"  And slackening
+the rein, and touching the side of his horse, the young rider darted
+forward and cleared the gate, which was of no common height, with an ease
+that extorted a loud "bravo" from the proud father.
+
+"Now, Puppet," said Mr. Beaufort, spurring his own horse.  The animal
+cantered towards the gate, and then suddenly turned round with an
+impatient and angry snort.  "For shame, Puppet!--for shame, old boy!"
+said the sportsman, wheeling him again to the barrier.  The horse shook
+his head, as if in remonstrance; but the spur vigorously applied showed
+him that his master would not listen to his mute reasonings.  He bounded
+forward--made at the gate--struck his hoofs against the top bar--fell
+forward, and threw his rider head foremost on the road beyond.  The horse
+rose instantly--not so the master.  The son dismounted, alarmed and
+terrified.  His father was speechless! and blood gushed from the mouth
+and nostrils, as the head drooped heavily on the boy's breast.  The
+bystanders had witnessed the fall--they crowded to the spot--they took
+the fallen man from the weak arms of the son--the head groom examined him
+with the eye of one who had picked up science from his experience in such
+casualties.
+
+"Speak, brother!--where are you hurt?"  exclaimed Robert Beaufort.
+
+"He will never speak more!"  said the groom, bursting into tears.  "His
+neck is broken!"
+
+"Send  for the nearest  surgeon," cried  Mr.  Robert.  "Good God!  boy!
+don't mount that devilish horse!"
+
+But Arthur had already leaped on the unhappy steed, which had been the
+cause of this appalling affliction.  "Which way?"
+
+"Straight on to  ----, only two miles--every one knows Mr. Powis's house.
+God bless you!"  said the groom.  Arthur vanished.
+
+"Lift him carefully, and take him to the house," said Mr. Robert.  "My
+poor brother! my dear brother!"
+
+He was interrupted by a cry, a single shrill, heartbreaking cry; and
+Philip fell senseless to the ground.
+
+No one heeded him at that hour--no one heeded the fatherless BASTARD.
+"Gently, gently," said Mr. Robert, as he followed the servants and their
+load.  And he then muttered to himself, and his sallow cheek grew bright,
+and his breath came short: "He has made no will--he never made a will."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+          "Constance.  O boy, then where art thou?
+               *   *  *  * What becomes of me"--_King John_.
+
+It was three days after the death of Philip Beaufort--for the surgeon
+arrived only to confirm the judgment of the groom: in the drawing-room of
+the cottage, the windows closed, lay the body, in its coffin, the lid not
+yet nailed down.  There, prostrate on the floor, tearless, speechless,
+was the miserable Catherine; poor Sidney, too young to comprehend all his
+loss, sobbing at her side; while Philip apart, seated beside the coffin,
+gazed abstractedly on that cold rigid face which had never known one
+frown for his boyish follies.
+
+In another room, that had been appropriated to the late owner, called his
+study, sat Robert Beaufort.  Everything in this room spoke of the
+deceased.  Partially separated from the rest of the house, it
+communicated by a winding staircase with a chamber above, to which Philip
+had been wont to betake himself whenever he returned late, and over-
+exhilarated, from some rural feast crowning a hard day's hunt.  Above a
+quaint, old-fashioned bureau of Dutch workmanship (which Philip had
+picked up at a sale in the earlier years of his marriage) was a portrait
+of Catherine taken in the bloom of her youth.  On a peg on the door that
+led to the staircase, still hung his rough driving coat.  The window
+commanded the view of the paddock in which the worn-out hunter or the
+unbroken colt grazed at will.  Around the walls of the "study"--
+(a strange misnomer!)--hung prints of celebrated fox-hunts and renowned
+steeple-chases: guns, fishing-rods, and foxes' brushes, ranged with a
+sportsman's neatness, supplied the place of books.  On the mantelpiece
+lay a cigar-case, a well-worn volume on the Veterinary Art, and the last
+number of the Sporting Magazine.  And in the room--thus witnessing of the
+hardy, masculine, rural life, that had passed away--sallow, stooping,
+town-worn, sat, I say, Robert Beaufort, the heir-at-law,--alone: for the
+very day of the death he had remanded his son home with the letter that
+announced to his wife the change in their fortunes, and directed her to
+send his lawyer post-haste to the house of death.  The bureau, and the
+drawers, and the boxes which contained the papers of the deceased were
+open; their contents had been ransacked; no certificate of the private
+marriage, no hint of such an event; not a paper found to signify the last
+wishes of the rich dead man.
+
+He had died, and made no sign.  Mr. Robert Beaufort's countenance was
+still and composed.
+
+A knock at the door was heard; the lawyer entered.
+
+"Sir, the undertakers are here, and Mr. Greaves has ordered the bells to
+be rung: at three o'clock he will read the service."
+
+"I am obliged to you., Blackwell, for taking these melancholy offices on
+yourself.  My poor brother!--it is so sudden!  But the funeral, you say,
+ought to take place to-day?"
+
+"The weather is so warm," said the lawyer, wiping his forehead.  As he
+spoke, the death-bell was heard.
+
+There was a pause.
+
+"It would have been a terrible shock to Mrs. Morton if she had been his
+wife," observed Mr. Blackwell.  "But I suppose persons of that kind have
+very little feeling.  I must say that it was fortunate for the family
+that the event happened before Mr. Beaufort was wheedled into so improper
+a marriage."
+
+"It was fortunate, Blackwell.  Have you ordered the post-horses?  I shall
+start immediately after the funeral."
+
+"What is to be done with the cottage, sir?"
+
+"You may advertise it for sale."
+
+"And Mrs. Morton and the boys?"  "Hum! we will consider.  She was a
+tradesman's daughter.  I think I ought to provide for her suitably, eh?"
+
+"It is more than the world could expect from you, sir; it is very
+different from a wife."
+
+"Oh, very!--very much so, indeed!  Just ring for a lighted candle, we
+will seal up these boxes.  And--I think I could take a sandwich.  Poor
+Philip!"
+
+The funeral was over; the dead shovelled away.  What a strange thing it
+does seem, that that very form which we prized so charily, for which we
+prayed the winds to be gentle, which we lapped from the cold in our arms,
+from whose footstep we would have removed a stone, should be suddenly
+thrust out of sight--an abomination that the earth must not look upon--a
+despicable loathsomeness, to be concealed and to be forgotten!  And this
+same composition of bone and muscle that was yesterday so strong--which
+men respected, and women loved, and children clung to--to-day so
+lamentably powerless, unable to defend or protect those who lay nearest
+to its heart; its riches wrested from it, its wishes spat upon, its
+influence expiring with its last sigh!  A breath from its lips making all
+that mighty difference between what it was and what it is!
+
+The post-horses were at the door as the funeral procession returned to
+the house.
+
+Mr. Robert Beaufort bowed slightly to Mrs. Morton, and said, with his
+pocket-handkerchief still before his eyes:
+
+"I will write to you in a few days, ma'am; you will find that I shall not
+forget you.  The cottage will be sold; but we sha'n't hurry you.  Good-
+bye, ma'am; good-bye, my boys;" and he patted his nephews on the head.
+
+Philip winced aside, and scowled haughtily at his uncle, who muttered to
+himself, "That boy will come to no good!"  Little Sidney put his hand
+into the rich man's, and looked up, pleadingly, into his face.  "Can't
+you say something pleasant to poor mamma, Uncle Robert?"
+
+Mr. Beaufort hemmed huskily, and entered the britska--it had been his
+brother's: the lawyer followed, and they drove away.
+
+A week after the funeral, Philip stole from the house into the
+conservatory, to gather some fruit for his mother; she had scarcely
+touched food since Beaufort's death.  She was worn to a shadow; her hair
+had turned grey.  Now she had at last found tears, and she wept
+noiselessly but unceasingly.
+
+The boy had plucked some grapes, and placed them carefully in his basket:
+he was about to select a nectarine that seemed riper than the rest, when
+his hand was roughly seized; and the gruff voice of John Green, the
+gardener, exclaimed:
+
+"What are you about, Master Philip? you must not touch them 'ere fruit!"
+
+"How dare you, fellow!" cried the young gentleman, in a tone of equal
+astonishment and, wrath.
+
+"None of your airs, Master Philip!  What I means is, that some great
+folks are coming too look at the place tomorrow; and I won't have my show
+of fruit spoiled by being pawed about by the like of you; so, that's
+plain, Master Philip!"
+
+The boy grew very pale, but remained silent.  The gardener, delighted to
+retaliate the insolence he had received, continued:
+
+"You need not go for to look so spiteful, master; you are not the great
+man you thought you were; you are nobody now, and so you will find ere
+long.  So, march out, if you please: I wants to lock up the glass."
+
+As he spoke, he took the lad roughly by the arm; but Philip, the most
+irascible of mortals, was strong for his years, and fearless as a young
+lion.  He caught up a watering-pot, which the gardener had deposited
+while he expostulated with his late tyrant and struck the man across the
+face with it so violently and so suddenly, that he fell back over the
+beds, and the glass crackled and shivered under him.  Philip did not wait
+for the foe to recover his equilibrium; but, taking up his grapes, and
+possessing himself quietly of the disputed nectarine, quitted the spot;
+and the gardener did not think it prudent to pursue him.  To boys, under
+ordinary circumstances--boys who have buffeted their way through a
+scolding nursery, a wrangling family, or a public school--there would
+have been nothing in this squabble to dwell on the memory or vibrate on
+the nerves, after the first burst of passion: but to Philip Beaufort it
+was an era in life; it was the first insult he had ever received; it was
+his initiation into that changed, rough, and terrible career, to which
+the spoiled darling of vanity and love was henceforth condemned.  His
+pride and his self-esteem had incurred a fearful shock.  He entered the
+house, and a sickness came over him; his limbs trembled; he sat down in
+the hall, and, placing the fruit beside him, covered his face with his
+hands and wept.  Those were not the tears of a boy, drawn from a shallow
+source; they were the burning, agonising, reluctant tears, that men shed,
+wrung from the heart as if it were its blood.  He had never been sent to
+school, lest he should meet with mortification.  He had had various
+tutors, trained to show, rather than to exact, respect; one succeeding
+another, at his own whim and caprice.  His natural quickness, and a very
+strong, hard, inquisitive turn of mind, had enabled him, however, to pick
+up more knowledge, though of a desultory and miscellaneous nature, than
+boys of his age generally possess; and his roving, independent, out-of-
+door existence had served to ripen his understanding.  He had certainly,
+in spite of every precaution, arrived at some, though not very distinct,
+notion of his peculiar position; but none of its inconveniences had
+visited him till that day.  He began now to turn his eyes to the future;
+and vague and dark forebodings--a consciousness of the shelter, the
+protector, the station, he had lost in his father's death--crept coldly,
+over him.  While thus musing, a ring was heard at the bell; he lifted his
+head; it was the postman with a letter.  Philip hastily rose, and,
+averting his face, on which the tears were not dried, took the letter;
+and then, snatching up his little basket of fruit, repaired to his
+mother's room.
+
+The shutters were half closed on the bright day--oh, what a mockery is
+there in the smile of the happy sun when it shines on the wretched!  Mrs.
+Morton sat, or rather crouched, in a distant corner; her streaming eyes
+fixed on vacancy; listless, drooping; a very image of desolate woe; and
+Sidney was weaving flower-chains at her feet.
+
+"Mamma!--mother!" whispered Philip, as he threw his arms round her neck;
+"look up! look up!-my heart breaks to see you.  Do taste this fruit: you
+will die too, if you go on thus; and what will become of us--of Sidney?"
+
+Mrs. Morton did look up vaguely into his face, and strove to smile.
+
+"See, too, I have brought you a letter; perhaps good news; shall I break
+the seal?"
+
+Mrs. Morton shook her head gently, and took the letter--alas!  how
+different from that one which Sidney had placed in her hands not two
+short weeks since--it was Mr. Robert Beaufort's handwriting.  She
+shuddered, and laid it down.  And then there suddenly, and for the first
+time, flashed across her the sense of her strange position--the dread of
+the future.  What were her sons to be henceforth?
+
+What herself?  Whatever the sanctity of her marriage, the law might fail
+her.  At the disposition of Mr. Robert Beaufort the fate of three lives
+might depend.  She gasped for breath; again took up the letter; and
+hurried over the contents: they ran thus:
+
+"DEAR, MADAM,--Knowing that you must naturally be anxious as to the
+future prospects of your children and yourself, left by my poor brother
+destitute of all provision, I take the earliest opportunity which it
+seems to me that propriety and decorum allow, to apprise you of my
+intentions.  I need not say that, properly speaking, you can have no kind
+of claim upon the relations of my late brother; nor will I hurt your
+feelings by those moral reflections which at this season of sorrow
+cannot, I hope, fail involuntarily to force themselves upon you.  Without
+more than this mere allusion to your peculiar connection with my brother,
+I may, however, be permitted to add that that connection tended very
+materially to separate him from the legitimate branches of his family;
+and in consulting with them as to a provision for you and your children,
+I find that, besides scruples that are to be respected, some natural
+degree of soreness exists upon their minds.  Out of regard, however, to
+my poor brother (though I saw very little of him of late years), I am
+willing to waive those feelings which, as a father and a husband, you may
+conceive that I share with the rest of my family.  You will probably now
+decide on living with some of your own relations; and that you may not be
+entirely a burden to them, I beg to say that I shall allow you a hundred
+a year; paid, if you prefer it, quarterly.  You may also select such
+articles of linen and plate as you require for your own use.  With regard
+to your sons, I have no objection to place them at a grammar-school, and,
+at a proper age, to apprentice them to any trade suitable to their future
+station, in the choice of which your own family can give you the best
+advice.  If they conduct themselves properly, they may always depend on
+my protection.  I do not wish to hurry your movements; but it will
+probably be painful to you to remain longer than you can help in a place
+crowded with unpleasant recollections; and as the cottage is to be sold--
+indeed, my brother-in-law, Lord Lilburne, thinks it would suit him--you
+will be liable to the interruption of strangers to see it; and your
+prolonged residence at Fernside, you must be sensible, is rather an
+obstacle to the sale.  I beg to inclose you a draft for L100. to pay any
+present expenses; and to request, when you are settled, to know where the
+first quarter shall be paid.
+
+"I shall write to Mr. Jackson (who, I think, is the bailiff) to detail my
+instructions as to selling the crops, &c., and discharging the servants;
+so that you may have no further trouble.
+              "I am, Madam,
+                     "Your obedient Servant,
+                               "ROBERT BEAUFORT.
+"Berkeley Square, September 12th, 18--."
+
+The letter fell from Catherine's hands.  Her grief was changed to
+indignation and scorn.
+
+"The insolent!"  she exclaimed, with flashing eyes.  "This to me!--to me--
+the wife, the lawful wife of his brother! the wedded mother of his
+brother's children!"
+
+"Say that again, mother! again--again!"  cried Philip, in a loud voice.
+"His wife--wedded!"
+
+"I swear it," said Catherine, solemnly.  "I kept the secret for your
+father's sake.  Now for yours, the truth must be proclaimed."
+
+"Thank God! thank God!"  murmured Philip, in a quivering voice, throwing
+his arms round his brother, "We have no brand on our names, Sidney."
+
+At those accents, so full of suppressed joy and pride, the mother felt at
+once all that her son had suspected and concealed.  She felt that beneath
+his haughty and wayward character there had lurked delicate and generous
+forbearance for her; that from his equivocal position his very faults
+might have arisen; and a pang of remorse for her long sacrifice of the
+children to the father shot through her heart.  It was followed by a
+fear, an appalling fear, more painful than the remorse.  The proofs that
+were to clear herself and them!  The words of her husband, that last
+awful morning, rang in her ear.  The minister dead; the witness absent;
+the register lost!  But the copy of that register!--the copy! might not
+that suffice?  She groaned, and closed her eyes as if to shut out the
+future: then starting up, she hurried from the room, and went straight to
+Beaufort's study.  As she laid her hand on the latch of the door, she
+trembled and drew back.  But care for the living was stronger at that
+moment than even anguish for the dead: she entered the apartment; she
+passed with a firm step to the bureau.  It was locked; Robert Beaufort's
+seal upon the lock:--on every cupboard, every box, every drawer, the same
+seal that spoke of rights more valued than her own.  But Catherine was
+not daunted: she turned and saw Philip by her side; she pointed to the
+bureau in silence; the boy understood the appeal.  He left the room, and
+returned in a few moments with a chisel.  The lock was broken:
+tremblingly and eagerly Catherine ransacked the contents; opened paper
+after paper, letter after letter, in vain: no certificate, no will, no
+memorial.  Could the brother have abstracted the fatal proof?  A word
+sufficed to explain to Philip what she sought for; and his search was
+more minute than hers.  Every possible receptacle for papers in that
+room, in the whole house, was explored, and still the search was
+fruitless.
+
+Three hours afterwards they were in the same room in which Philip had
+brought Robert Beaufort's letter to his mother.  Catherine was seated,
+tearless, but deadly pale with heart-sickness and dismay.
+
+"Mother," said Philip, "may I now read the letter?"  Yes, boy; and decide
+for us all.  She paused, and examined his face as he read.  He felt her
+eye was upon him, and restrained his emotions as he proceeded.  When he
+had done, he lifted his dark gaze upon Catherine's watchful countenance.
+
+"Mother, whether or not we obtain our rights, you will still refuse this
+man's charity?  I am young--a boy; but I am strong and active.  I will
+work for you day and night.  I have it in me--I feel it; anything rather
+than eating his bread."
+
+"Philip!  Philip!  you are indeed my son; your father's son!  And have
+you no reproach for your mother, who so weakly, so criminally, concealed
+your birthright, till, alas! discovery may be too late?  Oh! reproach me,
+reproach me! it will be kindness.  No! do not kiss me!  I cannot bear it.
+Boy! boy! if as my heart tells me, we fail in proof, do you understand
+what, in the world's eye, I am; what you are?"
+
+"I do!" said Philip, firmly; and lie fell on his knees at her feet."
+Whatever others call you, you are a mother, and I your son.  You are, in
+the judgment of Heaven, my father's Wife, and I his Heir."
+
+Catherine bowed her head, and with a gush of tears fell into his arms.
+Sidney crept up to her, and forced his lips to her cold cheek.  "Mamma!
+what vexes you?  Mamma, mamma!"
+
+"Oh, Sidney!  Sidney!  How like his father!  Look at him, Philip!  Shall
+we do right to refuse him even this pittance?  Must he be a beggar too?"
+
+"Never beggar," said Philip, with a pride that showed what hard lessons
+he had yet to learn.  "The lawful sons of a Beaufort were not born to beg
+their bread!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+          "The storm above, and frozen world below.
+                 *     *     *     *     *
+          The olive bough
+          Faded and cast upon the common wind,
+          And earth a doveless ark."--LAMAN BLANCHARD.
+
+Mr. Robert Beaufort was generally considered by the world a very worthy
+man.  He had never committed any excess--never gambled nor incurred debt
+--nor fallen into the warm errors most common with his sex.  He was a
+good husband--a careful father--an agreeable neighbour--rather charitable
+than otherwise, to the poor.  He was honest and methodical in his
+dealings, and had been known to behave handsomely in different relations
+of life.  Mr. Robert Beaufort, indeed, always meant to do what was right
+--in the eyes of the world!  He had no other rule of action but that
+which the world supplied; his religion was decorum--his sense of honour
+was regard to opinion.  His heart was a dial to which the world was the
+sun: when the great eye of the public fell on it, it answered every
+purpose that a heart could answer; but when that eye was invisible, the
+dial was mute--a piece of brass and nothing more.
+
+It is just to Robert Beaufort to assure the reader that he wholly
+disbelieved his brother's story of a private marriage.  He considered
+that tale, when heard for the first time, as the mere invention (and a
+shallow one) of a man wishing to make the imprudent step he was about to
+take as respectable as he could.  The careless tone of his brother when
+speaking upon the subject--his confession that of such a marriage there
+were no distinct proofs, except a copy of a register (which copy Robert
+had not found)--made his incredulity natural.  He therefore deemed
+himself under no obligation of delicacy or respect, to a woman through
+whose means he had very nearly lost a noble succession--a woman who had
+not even borne his brother's name--a woman whom nobody knew.  Had Mrs.
+Morton been Mrs. Beaufort, and the natural sons legitimate children,
+Robert Beaufort, supposing their situation of relative power and
+dependence to have been the same, would have behaved with careful and
+scrupulous generosity.  The world would have said, "Nothing can be
+handsomer than Mr. Robert Beaufort's conduct!"  Nay, if Mrs. Morton had
+been some divorced wife of birth and connections, he would have made very
+different dispositions in her favour: he would not have allowed the
+connections to call him shabby.  But here he felt that, all circumstances
+considered, the world, if it spoke at all (which it would scarce think it
+worth while to do), would be on his side.  An artful woman--low-born,
+and, of course, low-bred--who wanted to inveigle her rich and careless
+paramour into marriage; what could be expected from the man she had
+sought to injure--the rightful heir?  Was it not very good in him to do
+anything for her, and, if he provided for the children suitably to the
+original station of the mother, did he not go to the very utmost of
+reasonable expectation?  He certainly thought in his conscience, such as
+it was, that he had acted well--not extravagantly, not foolishly; but
+well.  He was sure the world would say so if it knew all: he was not
+bound to do anything.  He was not, therefore, prepared for Catherine's
+short, haughty, but temperate reply to his letter: a reply which conveyed
+a decided refusal of his offers--asserted positively her own marriage,
+and the claims of her children--intimated legal proceedings--and was
+signed in the name of Catherine Beaufort.  Mr. Beaufort put the letter in
+his bureau, labelled, "Impertinent answer from Mrs. Morton, Sept.  14,"
+and was quite contented to forget the existence of the writer, until his
+lawyer, Mr. Blackwell, informed him that a suit had been instituted by
+Catherine.
+
+Mr. Robert turned pale, but Blackwell composed him.
+
+"Pooh, sir! you have nothing to fear.  It is but an attempt to extort
+money: the attorney is a low practitioner, accustomed to get up bad
+cases: they can make nothing of it."
+
+This was true: whatever the rights of the case, poor Catherine had no
+proofs--no evidence--which could justify a respectable lawyer to advise
+her proceeding to a suit.  She named two witnesses of her marriage--one
+dead, the other could not be heard of.  She selected for the alleged
+place in which the ceremony was performed a very remote village, in which
+it appeared that the register had been destroyed.  No attested copy
+thereof was to be found, and Catherine was stunned on hearing that, even
+if found, it was doubtful whether it could be received as evidence,
+unless to corroborate actual personal testimony.  It so happened that
+when Philip, many years ago, had received a copy, he had not shown it to
+Catherine, nor mentioned Mr. Jones's name as the copyist.  In fact, then
+only three years married to Catherine, his worldly caution had not yet
+been conquered by confident experience of her generosity.  As for the
+mere moral evidence dependent on the publication of her bans in London,
+that amounted to no proof whatever; nor, on inquiry at A----, did the
+Welsh villagers remember anything further than that, some fifteen years
+ago, a handsome gentleman had visited Mr. Price, and one or two rather
+thought that Mr. Price had married him to a lady from London; evidence
+quite inadmissible against the deadly, damning fact, that, for fifteen
+years, Catherine had openly borne another name, and lived with Mr.
+Beaufort ostensibly as his mistress.  Her generosity in this destroyed
+her case.  Nevertheless, she found a low practitioner, who took her money
+and neglected her cause; so her suit was heard and dismissed with
+contempt.  Henceforth, then, indeed, in the eyes of the law and the
+public, Catherine was an impudent adventurer, and her sons were nameless
+outcasts.
+
+And now relieved from all fear, Mr. Robert Beaufort entered upon the full
+enjoyment of his splendid fortune.
+
+The house in Berkeley Square was furnished anew.  Great dinners and gay
+routs were given in the ensuing spring.  Mr. and Mrs. Beaufort became
+persons of considerable importance.  The rich man had, even when poor,
+been ambitious; his ambition now centred in his only son.  Arthur had
+always been considered a boy of talents and promise; to what might he not
+now aspire?  The term of his probation with the tutor was abridged, and
+Arthur Beaufort was sent at once to Oxford.
+
+Before he went to the university, during a short preparatory visit to his
+father, Arthur spoke to him of the Mortons.  "What has become of them,
+sir? and what have you done for them?"
+
+"Done for them!"  said Mr. Beaufort, opening his eyes.  "What should I do
+for persons who have just been harassing me with the most unprincipled
+litigation?  My conduct to them has been too generous: that is, all
+things considered.  But when you are my age you will find there is very
+little gratitude in the world, Arthur."
+
+"Still, sir," said Arthur, with the good nature that belonged to him:
+"still, my uncle was greatly attached to them; and the boys, at least,
+are guiltless."
+
+"Well, well!"  replied Mr. Beaufort, a little impatiently; "I believe
+they want for nothing: I fancy they are with the mother's relations.
+Whenever they address me in a proper manner they shall not find me
+revengeful or hardhearted; but, since we are on this topic," continued
+the father smoothing his shirt-frill with a care that showed his decorum
+even in trifles, "I hope you see the results of that kind of connection,
+and that you will take warning by your poor uncle's example.  And now let
+us change the subject; it is not a very pleasant one, and, at your age,
+the less your thoughts turn on such matters the better."
+
+Arthur Beaufort, with the careless generosity of youth, that gauges other
+men's conduct by its own sentiments, believed that his father, who had
+never been niggardly to himself, had really acted as his words implied;
+and, engrossed by the pursuits of the new and brilliant career opened,
+whether to his pleasures or his studies, suffered the objects of his
+inquiries to pass from his thoughts.
+
+Meanwhile, Mrs. Morton, for by that name we must still call her, and her
+children, were settled in a small lodging in a humble suburb; situated on
+the high road between Fernside and the metropolis.  She saved from her
+hopeless law-suit, after the sale of her jewels and ornaments, a
+sufficient sum to enable her, with economy, to live respectably for a
+year or two at least, during which time she might arrange her plans for
+the future.  She reckoned, as a sure resource, upon the assistance of her
+relations; but it was one to which she applied with natural shame and
+reluctance.  She had kept up a correspondence with her father during his
+life.  To him, she never revealed the secret of her marriage, though she
+did not write like a person conscious of error.  Perhaps, as she always
+said to her son, she had made to her husband a solemn promise never to
+divulge or even hint that secret until he himself should authorise its
+disclosure.  For neither he nor Catherine ever contemplated separation or
+death.  Alas! how all of us, when happy, sleep secure in the dark
+shadows, which ought to warn us of the sorrows that are to come!  Still
+Catherine's father, a man of coarse mind and not rigid principles, did
+not take much to heart that connection which he assumed to be illicit.
+She was provided for, that was some comfort: doubtless Mr. Beaufort would
+act like a gentleman, perhaps at last make her an honest woman and a
+lady.  Meanwhile, she had a fine house, and a fine carriage, and fine
+servants; and so far from applying to him for money, was constantly
+sending him little presents.  But Catherine only saw, in his permission
+of her correspondence, kind, forgiving, and trustful affection, and she
+loved him tenderly: when he died, the link that bound her to her family
+was broken.  Her brother succeeded to the trade; a man of probity and
+honour, but somewhat hard and unamiable.  In the only letter she had
+received from him--the one announcing her father's death--he told her
+plainly, and very properly, that he could not countenance the life she
+led; that he had children growing up--that all intercourse between them
+was at an end, unless she left Mr. Beaufort; when, if she sincerely
+repented, he would still prove her affectionate brother.
+
+Though Catherine had at the time resented this letter as unfeeling--now,
+humbled and sorrow-stricken, she recognised the propriety of principle
+from which it emanated.  Her brother was well off for his station--she
+would explain to him her real situation--he would believe her story.  She
+would write to him, and beg him at least to give aid to her poor
+children.
+
+But this step she did not take till a considerable portion of her
+pittance was consumed--till nearly three parts of a year since Beaufort's
+death had expired--and till sundry warnings, not to be lightly heeded,
+had made her forebode the probability of an early death for herself.
+From the age of sixteen, when she had been placed by Mr. Beaufort at the
+head of his household, she had been cradled, not in extravagance, but in
+an easy luxury, which had not brought with it habits of economy and
+thrift.  She could grudge anything to herself, but to her children--his
+children, whose every whim had been anticipated, she had not the heart to
+be saving.  She could have starved in a garret had she been alone; but
+she could not see them wanting a comfort while she possessed a guinea.
+Philip, to do him justice, evinced a consideration not to have been
+expected from his early and arrogant recklessness.  But Sidney, who could
+expect consideration from such a child?  What could he know of the change
+of circumstances--of the value of money?  Did he seem dejected, Catherine
+would steal out and spend a week's income on the lapful of toys which she
+brought home.  Did he seem a shade more pale--did he complain of the
+slightest ailment, a doctor must be sent for.  Alas! her own ailments,
+neglected and unheeded, were growing beyond the reach of medicine.
+Anxious fearful--gnawed by regret for the past--the thought of famine in
+the future--she daily fretted and wore herself away.  She had cultivated
+her mind during her secluded residence with Mr. Beaufort, but she had
+learned none of the arts by which decayed gentlewomen keep the wolf from
+the door; no little holiday accomplishments, which, in the day of need
+turn to useful trade; no water-colour drawings, no paintings on velvet,
+no fabrications of pretty gewgaws, no embroidery and fine needlework.
+She was helpless--utterly helpless; if she had resigned herself to the
+thought of service, she would not have had the physical strength for a
+place of drudgery, and where could she have found the testimonials
+necessary for a place of trust?  A great change, at this time, was
+apparent in Philip.  Had he fallen, then, into kind hands, and under
+guiding eyes, his passions and energies might have ripened into rare
+qualities and great virtues.  But perhaps as Goethe has somewhere said,
+"Experience, after all, is the best teacher."  He kept a constant guard
+on his vehement temper--his wayward will; he would not have vexed his
+mother for the world.  But, strange to say (it was a great mystery in the
+woman's heart), in proportion as he became more amiable, it seemed that
+his mother loved him less.  Perhaps she did not, in that change,
+recognise so closely the darling of the old time; perhaps the very
+weaknesses and importunities of Sidney, the hourly sacrifices the child
+entailed upon her, endeared the younger son more to her from that natural
+sense of dependence and protection which forms the great bond between
+mother and child; perhaps too, as Philip had been one to inspire as much
+pride as affection, so the pride faded away with the expectations that
+had fed it, and carried off in its decay some of the affection that was
+intertwined with it.  However this be, Philip had formerly appeared the
+more spoiled and favoured of the two: and now Sidney seemed all in all.
+Thus, beneath the younger son's caressing gentleness, there grew up a
+certain regard for self; it was latent, it took amiable colours; it had
+even a certain charm and grace in so sweet a child, but selfishness it
+was not the less.  In this he differed from his brother.  Philip was
+self-willed: Sidney self-loving.  A certain timidity of character,
+endearing perhaps to the anxious heart of a mother, made this fault in
+the younger boy more likely to take root.  For, in bold natures, there is
+a lavish and uncalculating recklessness which scorns self unconsciously
+and though there is a fear which arises from a loving heart, and is but
+sympathy for others--the fear which belongs to a timid character is but
+egotism--but, when physical, the regard for one's own person: when moral,
+the anxiety for one's own interests.
+
+It was in a small room in a lodging-house in the suburb of H---- that
+Mrs. Morton was seated by the window, nervously awaiting the knock of the
+postman, who was expected to bring her brother's reply to her letter.  It
+was therefore between ten and eleven o'clock--a morning in the merry
+month of June.  It was hot and sultry, which is rare in an English June.
+A flytrap, red, white, and yellow, suspended from the ceiling, swarmed
+with flies; flies were on the ceiling, flies buzzed at the windows; the
+sofa and chairs of horsehair seemed stuffed with flies.  There was an
+air of heated discomfort in the thick, solid moreen curtains, in the
+gaudy paper, in the bright-staring carpet, in the very looking-glass over
+the chimney-piece, where a strip of mirror lay imprisoned in an embrace
+of frame covered with yellow muslin.  We may talk of the dreariness of
+winter; and winter, no doubt, is desolate: but what in the world is more
+dreary to eyes inured to the verdure and bloom of Nature--,
+
+          "The pomp of groves and garniture of fields,"
+
+--than a close room in a suburban lodging-house; the sun piercing every
+corner; nothing fresh, nothing cool, nothing fragrant to be seen, felt,
+or inhaled; all dust, glare, noise, with a chandler's shop, perhaps, next
+door?  Sidney armed with a pair of scissors, was cutting the pictures out
+of a story-book, which his mother had bought him the day before.  Philip,
+who, of late, had taken much to rambling about the streets--it may be, in
+hopes of meeting one of those benevolent, eccentric, elderly gentlemen,
+he had read of in old novels, who suddenly come to the relief of
+distressed virtue; or, more probably, from the restlessness that belonged
+to his adventurous temperament;--Philip had left the house since
+breakfast.
+
+"Oh! how hot this nasty room is!"  exclaimed Sidney, abruptly, looking up
+from his employment.  "Sha'n't we ever go into the country, again,
+mamma?"
+
+"Not at present, my love."
+
+"I wish I could have my pony; why can't I have my pony, mamma?"
+
+"Because,--because--the pony is sold, Sidney."
+
+"Who sold it?"
+
+"Your uncle."
+
+"He is a very naughty man, my uncle: is he not?  But can't I have another
+pony?  It would be so nice, this fine weather!"
+
+"Ah! my dear, I wish I could afford it: but you shall have a ride this
+week!  Yes," continued the mother, as if reasoning with herself, in
+excuse of the extravagance, "he does not look well: poor child! he must
+have exercise."
+
+"A ride!--oh! that is my own kind mamma!"  exclaimed Sidney, clapping his
+hands.  "Not on a donkey, you know!--a pony.  The man down the street,
+there, lets ponies.  I must have the white pony with the long tail.  But,
+I say, mamma, don't tell Philip, pray don't; he would be jealous."
+
+"No, not jealous, my dear; why do you think so?"
+
+"Because he is always angry when I ask you for anything.  It is very
+unkind in him, for I don't care if he has a pony, too,--only not the
+white one."
+
+Here the postman's knock, loud and sudden, started Mrs. Morton from her
+seat.
+
+She pressed her hands tightly to her heart, as if to still its beating,
+and went tremulously to the door; thence to the stairs, to anticipate the
+lumbering step of the slipshod maidservent.
+
+"Give it me, Jane; give it me!"
+
+"One shilling and eightpence--double charged--if you please, ma'am!
+Thank you."
+
+"Mamma, may I tell Jane to engage the pony?"
+
+"Not now, my love; sit down; be quiet: I--I am not well."
+
+Sidney, who was affectionate and obedient, crept back peaceably to the
+window, and, after a short, impatient sigh, resumed the scissors and the
+story-book.  I do not apologise to the reader for the various letters I
+am obliged to lay before him; for character often betrays itself more in
+letters than in speech.  Mr. Roger Morton's reply was couched in these
+terms,--
+
+"DEAR CATHERINE, I have received your letter of the 14th inst., and write
+per return.  I am very much grieved to hear of your afflictions; but,
+whatever you say, I cannot think the late Mr. Beaufort acted like a
+conscientious man, in forgetting to make his will, and leaving his little
+ones destitute.  It is all very well to talk of his intentions; but the
+proof of the pudding is in the eating.  And it is hard upon me, who have
+a large family of my own, and get my livelihood by honest industry, to
+have a rich gentleman's children to maintain.  As for your story about
+the private marriage, it may or not be.  Perhaps you were taken in by
+that worthless man, for a real marriage it could not be.  And, as you
+say, the law has decided that point; therefore, the less you say on the
+matter the better.  It all comes to the same thing.  People are not bound
+to believe what can't be proved.  And even if what you say is true, you
+are more to be blamed than pitied for holding your tongue so many years,
+and discrediting an honest family, as ours has always been considered.  I
+am sure my wife would not have thought of such a thing for the finest
+gentleman that ever wore shoe-leather.  However, I don't want to hurt
+your feelings; and I am sure I am ready to do whatever is right and
+proper.  You cannot expect that I should ask you to my house.  My wife,
+you know, is a very religious woman--what is called evangelical; but
+that's neither here nor there: I deal with all people, churchmen and
+dissenters--even Jews,--and don't trouble my head much about differences
+in opinion.  I dare say there are many ways to heaven; as I said, the
+other day, to Mr. Thwaites, our member.  But it is right to say my wife
+will not hear of your coming here; and, indeed, it might do harm to my
+business, for there are several elderly single gentlewomen, who buy
+flannel for the poor at my shop, and they are very particular; as they
+ought to be, indeed: for morals are very strict in this county, and
+particularly in this town, where we certainly do pay very high church-
+rates.  Not that I grumble; for, though I am as liberal as any man, I am
+for an established church; as I ought to be, since the dean is my best
+customer.  With regard to yourself I inclose you L10., and you will let
+me know when it is gone, and I will see what more I can do.  You say you
+are very poorly, which I am sorry to hear; but you must pluck up your
+spirits, and take in plain work; and I really think you ought to apply to
+Mr. Robert Beaufort.  He bears a high character; and notwithstanding your
+lawsuit, which I cannot approve of, I dare say he might allow you L40.
+or L50. a-year, if you apply properly, which would be the right thing in
+him.  So much for you.  As for the boys--poor, fatherless creatures!--it
+is very hard that they should be so punished for no fault of their own;
+and my wife, who, though strict, is a good-hearted woman, is ready and
+willing to do what I wish about them.  You say the eldest is near sixteen
+and well come on in his studies.  I can get him a very good thing in a
+light genteel way.  My wife's brother, Mr. Christopher Plaskwith, is a
+bookseller and stationer with pretty practice, in R----.  He is a clever
+man, and has a newspaper, which he kindly sends me every week; and,
+though it is not my county, it has some very sensible views and is often
+noticed in the London papers, as 'our provincial contemporary.'--Mr.
+Plaskwith owes me some money, which I advanced him when he set up the
+paper; and he has several times most honestly offered to pay me, in
+shares in the said paper.  But, as the thing might break, and I don't
+like concerns I don't understand, I have not taken advantage of his very
+handsome proposals.  Now, Plaskwith wrote me word, two days ago, that he
+wanted a genteel, smart lad, as assistant and 'prentice, and offered to
+take my eldest boy; but we can't spare him.  I write to Christopher by
+this post; and if your youth will run down on the top of the coach, and
+inquire for Mr. Plaskwith--the fare is trifling--I have no doubt he will
+be engaged at once.  But you will say, 'There's the premium to consider!'
+No such thing; Kit will set off the premium against his debt to me; so
+you will have nothing to pay.  'Tis a very pretty business; and the lad's
+education will get him on; so that's off your mind.  As to the little
+chap, I'll take him at once.  You say he is a pretty boy; and a pretty
+boy is always a help in a linendraper's shop.  He shall share and share
+with my own young folks; and Mrs. Morton will take care of his washing
+and morals.  I conclude--(this is Mrs. M's.  suggestion)--that he has had
+the measles, cowpock, and whooping-cough, which please let me know.  If
+he behave well, which, at his age, we can easily break him into, he is
+settled for life.  So now you have got rid of two mouths to feed, and
+have nobody to think of but yourself, which must be a great comfort.
+Don't forget to write to Mr. Beaufort; and if he don't do something for
+you he's not the gentleman I take him for; but you are my own flesh and
+blood, and sha'n't starve; for, though I don't think it right in a man in
+business to encourage what's wrong, yet, when a person's down in the
+world, I think an ounce of hell is better than a pound of preaching.  My
+wife thinks otherwise, and wants to send you some tracts; but every
+body can't be as correct as some folks.  However, as I said before,
+that's neither here nor there.  Let me know when your boy comes down, and
+also about the measles, cowpock, and whooping-cough; also if all's right
+with Mr. Plaskwith.  So now I hope you will feel more comfortable; and
+remain,
+          "Dear Catherine,
+                   "Your forgiving and affectionate brother,
+                               "ROGER MORTON.
+"High Street, N----, June 13."
+
+"P.S.--Mrs. M. says that she will be a mother to your little boy, and
+that you had better mend up all his linen before you send him."
+
+
+As Catherine finished this epistle, she lifted her eyes and beheld
+Philip.  He had entered noiselessly, and he remained silent, leaning
+against the wall, and watching the face of his mother, which crimsoned
+with painful humiliation while she read.  Philip was not now the trim and
+dainty stripling first introduced to the reader.  He had outgrown his
+faded suit of funereal mourning; his long-neglected hair hung elf-like
+and matted down his cheeks; there was a gloomy look in his bright dark
+eyes.  Poverty never betrays itself more than in the features and form of
+Pride.  It was evident that his spirit endured, rather than accommodated
+itself to, his fallen state; and, notwithstanding his soiled and
+threadbare garments, and a haggardness that ill becomes the years of
+palmy youth, there was about his whole mien and person a wild and savage
+grandeur more impressive than his former ruffling arrogance of manner.
+
+"Well, mother," said he, with a strange mixture of sternness in his
+countenance and pity in his voice; "well, mother, and what says your
+brother?"
+
+"You decided for us once before, decide again.  But I need not ask you;
+you would never--"
+
+"I don't know," interrupted Philip, vaguely; "let me see what we are to
+decide on."
+
+Mrs. Morton was naturally a woman of high courage and spirit, but
+sickness and grief had worn down both; and though Philip was but sixteen,
+there is something in the very nature of woman--especially in trouble--
+which makes her seek to lean on some other will than her own.  She gave
+Philip the letter, and went quietly to sit down by Sidney.
+
+"Your brother means well," said Philip, when he had concluded the
+epistle.
+
+"Yes, but nothing is to be done; I cannot, cannot send poor Sidney to--
+to--" and Mrs. Morton sobbed.
+
+"No, my dear, dear mother, no; it would be terrible, indeed, to part you
+and him.  But this bookseller--Plaskwith--perhaps I shall be able to
+support you both."
+
+"Why, you do not think, Philip, of being an apprentice!--you, who have
+been so brought up--you, who are so proud!"
+
+"Mother, I would sweep the crossings for your sake I Mother, for your
+sake I would go to my uncle Beaufort with my hat in my hand, for
+halfpence.  Mother, I am not proud--I would be honest, if I can--but when
+I see you pining away, and so changed, the devil comes into me, and I
+often shudder lest I should commit some crime--what, I don't know!"
+
+"Come here, Philip--my own Philip--my son, my hope, my firstborn!"--and
+the mother's heart gushed forth in all the fondness of early days.
+"Don't speak so terribly, you frighten me!"
+
+She threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him soothingly.  He laid
+his burning temples on her bosom, and nestled himself to her, as he had
+been wont to do, after some stormy paroxysm of his passionate and wayward
+infancy.  So there they remained--their lips silent, their hearts
+speaking to each other--each from each taking strange succour and holy
+strength--till Philip rose, calm, and with a quiet smile, "Good-bye,
+mother; I will go at once to Mr. Plaskwith."
+
+"But you have no money for the coach-fare; here, Philip," and she placed
+her purse in his hand, from which he reluctantly selected a few
+shillings.  "And mind, if the man is rude and you dislike him--mind, you
+must not subject yourself to insolence and mortification."
+
+"Oh, all will go well, don't fear," said Philip, cheerfully, and he left
+the house.
+
+Towards evening he had reached his destination.  The shop was of goodly
+exterior, with a private entrance; over the shop was written,
+"Christopher Plaskwith, Bookseller and Stationer:" on the private door a
+brass plate, inscribed with "R---- and ---- Mercury Office, Mr.
+Plaskwith."  Philip applied at the private entrance, and was shown by
+a "neat-handed Phillis" into a small office-room.  In a few minutes the
+door opened, and the bookseller entered.
+
+Mr. Christopher Plaskwith was a short, stout man, in drab-coloured
+breeches, and gaiters to match; a black coat and waistcoat; he wore a
+large watch-chain, with a prodigious bunch of seals, alternated by small
+keys and old-fashioned mourning-rings.  His complexion was pale and
+sodden, and his hair short, dark, and sleek.  The bookseller valued
+himself on a likeness to Buonaparte; and affected a short, brusque,
+peremptory manner, which he meant to be the indication of the vigorous
+and decisive character of his prototype.
+
+"So you are the young gentleman Mr. Roger Morton recommends?"  Here Mr.
+Plaskwith took out a huge pocketbook, slowly unclasped it, staring hard
+at Philip, with what he designed for a piercing and penetrative survey.
+
+"This is the letter--no! this is Sir Thomas Champerdown's order for fifty
+copies of the last Mercury, containing his speech at the county meeting.
+Your age, young man?--only sixteen?--look older;--that's not it--that's
+not it--and this is it!--sit down.  Yes, Mr. Roger Morton recommends you
+--a relation--unfortunate circumstances--well educated--hum!  Well, young
+man, what have you to say for yourself?"
+
+"Sir?"
+
+"Can you cast accounts?--know bookkeeping?"
+
+"I know something of algebra, sir."
+
+"Algebra!--oh, what else?"
+
+"French and Latin."
+
+"Hum!--may be useful.  Why do you wear your hair so long?--look at mine.
+What's your name?"
+
+"Philip Morton."
+
+"Mr. Philip Morton, you have an intelligent countenance--I go a great
+deal by countenances.  You know the terms?--most favourable to you.  No
+premium--I settle that with Roger.  I give board and bed--find your own
+washing.  Habits regular--'prenticeship only five years; when over, must
+not set up in the same town.  I will see to the indentures.  When can you
+come?"
+
+"When you please, sir."
+
+"Day after to-morrow, by six o'clock coach."
+
+"But, sir," said Philip, "will there be no salary? something, ever so
+small, that I could send to my another?"
+
+"Salary, at sixteen?--board and bed-no premium!  Salary, what for?
+'Prentices have no salary!--you will have every comfort."
+
+"Give me less comfort, that I may give my mother more;--a little money,
+ever so little, and take it out of my board: I can do with one meal a
+day, sir."
+
+The bookseller was moved: he took a huge pinch of snuff out of his
+waistcoat pocket, and mused a moment.  He then said, as he re-examined
+Philip:
+
+"Well, young man, I'll tell you what we will do.  You shall come here
+first upon trial;--see if we like each other before we sign the
+indentures; allow you, meanwhile, five shillings a week.  If you show
+talent, will see if I and Roger can settle about some little allowance.
+That do, eh?"
+
+"I thank you, sir, yes," said Philip, gratefully.  "Agreed, then.  Follow
+me--present you to Mrs. P."  Thus saying, Mr. Plaskwith returned the
+letter to the pocket-book, and the pocket-book to the pocket; and,
+putting his arms behind his coat tails, threw up his chin, and strode
+through the passage into a small parlour, that locked upon a small
+garden.  Here, seated round the table, were a thin lady, with a squint
+(Mrs. Plaskwith), two little girls, the Misses Plaskwith, also with
+squints, and pinafores; a young man of three or four-and-twenty, in
+nankeen trousers, a little the worse for washing, and a black velveteen
+jacket and waistcoat.  This young gentleman was very much freckled; wore
+his hair, which was dark and wiry, up at one side, down at the other; had
+a short thick nose; full lips; and, when close to him, smelt of cigars.
+Such was Mr. Plimmins, Mr. Plaskwith's factotum, foreman in the shop,
+assistant editor to the Mercury.  Mr. Plaskwith formally went the round
+of the introduction; Mrs. P. nodded her head; the Misses P. nudged each
+other, and grinned; Mr. Plimmins passed his hand through his hair,
+glanced at the glass, and bowed very politely.
+
+"Now, Mrs. P., my second cup, and give Mr. Morton his dish of tea.  Must
+be tired, sir--hot day.  Jemima, ring--no, go to the stairs and call out
+'more buttered toast.' That's the shorter way--promptitude is my rule in
+life, Mr. Morton.  Pray-hum, hum--have you ever, by chance, studied the
+biography of the great Napoleon Buonaparte?"
+
+Mr. Plimmins gulped down his tea, and kicked Philip under the table.
+Philip looked fiercely at the foreman, and replied, sullenly, "No, sir."
+
+"That's a pity.  Napoleon Buonaparte was a very great man,--very!  You
+have seen his cast?--there it is, on the dumb waiter!  Look at it! see a
+likeness, eh?"
+
+"Likeness, sir?  I never saw Napoleon Buonaparte."
+
+"Never saw him!  No, just look round the room.  Who does that bust put
+you in mind of? who does it resemble?"
+
+Here Mr. Plaskwith rose, and placed himself in an attitude; his hand in
+his waistcoat, and his face pensively inclined towards the tea-table.
+"Now fancy me at St. Helena; this table is the ocean.  Now, then, who is
+that cast like, Mr. Philip Morton?"
+
+"I suppose, sir, it is like you!"
+
+"Ah, that it is! strikes every one!  Does it not, Mrs. P., does it not?
+And when you have known me longer, you will find a moral similitude--a
+moral, sir!  Straightforward--short--to the point--bold--determined!"
+
+"Bless me, Mr. P.!"  said Mrs. Plaskwith, very querulously, "do make
+haste with your tea; the young gentleman, I suppose, wants to go home,
+and the coach passes in a quarter of an hour."
+
+"Have you seen Kean in Richard the Third, Mr. Morton?"  asked Mr.
+Plimmins.
+
+"I have never seen a play."
+
+"Never seen a play!  How very odd!"
+
+"Not at all odd, Mr. Plimmins," said the stationer.  "Mr. Morton has
+known troubles--so hand him the hot toast."
+
+Silent and morose, but rather disdainful than sad, Philip listened to the
+babble round him, and observed the ungenial characters with which he was
+to associate.  He cared not to please (that, alas!  had never been
+especially his study); it was enough for him if he could see, stretching
+to his mind's eye beyond the walls of that dull room, the long vistas
+into fairer fortune.  At sixteen, what sorrow can freeze the Hope, or
+what prophetic fear whisper, "Fool!" to the Ambition?  He would bear back
+into ease and prosperity, if not into affluence and station, the dear
+ones left at home.  From the eminence of five shillings a week, he looked
+over the Promised Land.
+
+At length, Mr. Plaskwith, pulling out his watch, said, "Just in time to
+catch the coach; make your bow and be off-smart's the word!"  Philip
+rose, took up his hat, made a stiff bow that included the whole group,
+and vanished with his host.
+
+Mrs. Plaskwith breathed more easily when he was gone.  "I never seed a
+more odd, fierce, ill-bred-looking young man!  I declare I am quite
+afraid of him.  What an eye he has!"
+
+"Uncommonly dark; what I may say gipsy-like," said Mr. Plimmins.
+
+"He! he!  You always do say such good things, Plimmins.  Gipsy-like, he!
+he!  So he is!  I wonder if he can tell fortunes?"
+
+"He'll be long before he has a fortune of his own to tell.  Ha!  ha!"
+said Plimmins.
+
+"He! he!  how very good!  you are so pleasant, Plimmins."
+
+While these strictures on his appearance were still going on, Philip had
+already ascended the roof of the coach; and, waving his hand, with the
+condescension of old times, to his future master, was carried away by the
+"Express" in a whirlwind of dust.
+
+"A very warm evening, sir," said a passenger seated at his right;
+puffing, while he spoke, from a short German pipe, a volume of smoke in
+Philip's face.
+
+"Very warm.  Be so good as to smoke into the face of the gentleman on the
+other side of you," returned Philip, petulantly.
+
+"Ho, ho!" replied the passenger, with a loud, powerful laugh-the laugh of
+a strong man.  "You don't take to the pipe yet; you will by and by, when
+you have known the cares and anxieties that I have gone through.  A pipe!
+--it is a great soother!--a pleasant comforter!  Blue devils fly before
+its honest breath!  It ripens the brain--it opens the heart; and the man
+who smokes thinks like a sage and acts like a Samaritan!"
+
+Roused from his reverie by this quaint and unexpected declamation, Philip
+turned his quick glance at his neighbour.  He saw a man of great bulk and
+immense physical power--broad-shouldered--deep-chested--not corpulent,
+but taking the same girth from bone and muscle that a corpulent man does
+from flesh.  He wore a blue coat--frogged, braided, and buttoned to the
+throat.  A broad-brimmed straw hat, set on one side, gave a jaunty
+appearance to a countenance which, notwithstanding its jovial complexion
+and smiling mouth, had, in repose, a bold and decided character.  It was
+a face well suited to the frame, inasmuch as it betokened a mind capable
+of wielding and mastering the brute physical force of body;--light eyes
+of piercing intelligence; rough, but resolute and striking features, and
+a jaw of iron.  There was thought, there was power, there was passion in
+the shaggy brow, the deep-ploughed lines, the dilated, nostril and the
+restless play of the lips.  Philip looked hard and grave, and the man
+returned his look.
+
+"What do you think of me, young gentleman?"  asked the passenger, as he
+replaced the pipe in his mouth.  "I am a fine-looking man, am I not?"
+
+"You seem a strange one."
+
+"Strange!--Ay, I puzzle you, as I have done, and shall do, many.  You
+cannot read me as easily as I can read you.  Come, shall I guess at your
+character and circumstances?  You are a gentleman, or something like it,
+by birth;--that the tone of your voice tells me.  You are poor, devilish
+poor;--that the hole in your coat assures me.  You are proud, fiery,
+discontented, and unhappy;--all that I see in your face.  It was because
+I saw those signs that I spoke to you.  I volunteer no acquaintance with
+the happy."
+
+"I dare say not; for if you know all the unhappy you must have a
+sufficiently large acquaintance," returned Philip.
+
+"Your wit is beyond your years!  What is your calling, if the question
+does not offend you?"
+
+"I have none as yet," said Philip, with a slight sigh, and a deep blush.
+
+"More's the pity!"  grunted the smoker, with a long emphatic nasal
+intonation.  "I should have judged that you were a raw recruit in the
+camp of the enemy."
+
+"Enemy!  I don't understand you."
+
+"In other words, a plant growing out of a lawyer's desk.  I will explain.
+There is one class of spiders, industrious, hard-working octopedes, who,
+out of the sweat of their brains (I take it, by the by, that a spider
+must have a fine craniological development), make their own webs and
+catch their flies.  There is another class of spiders who have no stuff
+in them wherewith to make webs; they, therefore, wander about, looking
+out for food provided by the toil of their neighbours.  Whenever they
+come to the web of a smaller spider, whose larder seems well supplied,
+they rush upon his domain--pursue him to his hole--eat him up if they
+can--reject him if he is too tough for their maws, and quietly possess
+themselves of all the legs and wings they find dangling in his meshes:
+these spiders I call enemies--the world calls them lawyers!"
+
+Philip laughed: "And who are the first class of spiders?"
+
+"Honest creatures who openly confess that they live upon flies.  Lawyers
+fall foul upon them, under pretence of delivering flies from their
+clutches.  They are wonderful blood-suckers, these lawyers, in spite of
+all their hypocrisy.  Ha! ha! ho! ho!"
+
+And with a loud, rough chuckle, more expressive of malignity than mirth,
+the man turned himself round, applied vigorously to his pipe, and sank
+into a silence which, as mile after mile glided past the wheels, he did
+not seem disposed to break.  Neither was Philip inclined to be
+communicative.  Considerations for his own state and prospects swallowed
+up the curiosity he might otherwise have felt as to his singular
+neighbour.  He had not touched food since the early morning.  Anxiety had
+made him insensible to hunger, till he arrived at Mr. Plaskwith's; and
+then, feverish, sore, and sick at heart, the sight of the luxuries
+gracing the tea-table only revolted him.  He did not now feel hunger, but
+he was fatigued and faint.  For several nights the sleep which youth can
+so ill dispense with had been broken and disturbed; and now, the rapid
+motion of the coach, and the free current of a fresher and more
+exhausting air than he had been accustomed to for many months, began to
+operate on his nerves like the intoxication of a narcotic.  His eyes grew
+heavy; indistinct mists, through which there seemed to glare the various
+squints of the female Plaskwiths, succeeded the gliding road and the
+dancing trees.  His head fell on his bosom; and thence, instinctively
+seeking the strongest support at hand, inclined towards the stout smoker,
+and finally nestled itself composedly on that gentleman's shoulder.  The
+passenger, feeling this unwelcome and unsolicited weight, took the pipe,
+which he had already thrice refilled, from his lips, and emitted an angry
+and impatient snort; finding that this produced no effect, and that the
+load grew heavier as the boy's sleep grew deeper, he cried, in a loud
+voice, "Holla! I did not pay my fare to be your bolster, young man!"  and
+shook himself lustily.  Philip started, and would have fallen sidelong
+from the coach, if his neighbour had not griped him hard with a hand that
+could have kept a young oak from falling.
+
+"Rouse yourself!--you might have had an ugly tumble."  Philip muttered
+something inaudible, between sleeping and waking, and turned his dark
+eyes towards the man; in that glance there was so much unconscious, but
+sad and deep reproach, that the passenger felt touched and ashamed.
+Before however, he could say anything in apology or conciliation, Philip
+had again fallen asleep.  But this time, as if he had felt and resented
+the rebuff he had received, he inclined his head away from his neighbour,
+against the edge of a box on the roof--a dangerous pillow, from which any
+sudden jolt might transfer him to the road below.
+
+"Poor lad!--he looks pale!"  muttered the man, and he knocked the weed
+from his pipe, which he placed gently in his pocket.  "Perhaps the smoke
+was too much for him--he seems ill and thin," and he took the boy's long
+lean fingers in his own.  "His cheek is hollow!--what do I know but it
+may be with fasting?  Pooh!  I was a brute.  Hush, coachee, hush!  don't
+talk so loud, and be d---d to you--he will certainly be off!"  and the
+man softly and creepingly encircled the boy's waist with his huge arm.
+
+"Now, then, to shift his head; so-so,--that's right."  Philip's sallow
+cheek and long hair were now tenderly lapped on the soliloquist's bosom.
+"Poor wretch! he smiles; perhaps he is thinking of home, and the
+butterflies he ran after when he was an urchin--they never come back,
+those days;--never--never--never!  I think the wind veers to the east; he
+may catch cold;"--and with that, the man, sliding the head for a moment,
+and with the tenderness of a woman, from his breast to his shoulder,
+unbuttoned his coat (as he replaced the weight, no longer unwelcomed, in
+its former part), and drew the lappets closely round the slender frame of
+the sleeper, exposing his own sturdy breast--for he wore no waistcoat--to
+the sharpening air.  Thus cradled on that stranger's bosom, wrapped from
+the present and dreaming perhaps--while a heart scorched by fierce and
+terrible struggles with life and sin made his pillow--of a fair and
+unsullied future, slept the fatherless and friendless boy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+     "_Constance_.  My life, my joy, my food, my all the world,
+     My widow-comfort."--King John.
+
+Amidst the glare of lamps--the rattle of carriages--the lumbering of
+carts and waggons--the throng, the clamour, the reeking life and
+dissonant roar of London, Philip woke from his happy sleep.  He woke
+uncertain and confused, and saw strange eyes bent on him kindly and
+watchfully.
+
+"You have slept well, my lad!"  said the passenger, in the deep ringing
+voice which made itself heard above all the noises around.
+
+"And you have suffered me to incommode you thus!"  said Philip, with more
+gratitude in his voice and look than, perhaps, he had shown to any one
+out of his own family since his birth.
+
+"You have had but little kindness shown you, my poor boy, if you think so
+much of this."
+
+"No--all people were very kind to me once.  I did not value it then."
+Here the coach rolled heavily down the dark arch of the inn-yard.
+
+"Take care of yourself, my boy!  You look ill;" and in the dark the man
+slipped a sovereign into Philip's hand.
+
+"I don't want money.  Though I thank you heartily all the same; it would
+be a shame at my age to be a beggar.  But can you think of an employment
+where I can make something?--what they offer me is so trifling.  I have a
+mother and a brother--a mere child, sir--at home."
+
+"Employment!"  repeated the man; and as the coach now stopped at the
+tavern door, the light of the lamp fell full on his marked face.  "Ay, I
+know of employment; but you should apply to some one else to obtain it
+for you!  As for me, it is not likely that we shall meet again!"
+
+"I am sorry for that!--What and who are you?"  asked Philip, with a rude
+and blunt curiosity.
+
+"Me!" returned the passenger, with his deep laugh.  "Oh! I know some
+people who call me an honest fellow.  Take the employment offered you,
+no matter how trifling the wages--keep out of harm's way.  Good night to
+you!"
+
+So saying, he quickly descended from the roof, and, as he was directing
+the coachman where to look for his carpetbag, Philip saw three or four
+well-dressed men make up to him, shake him heartily by the hand, and
+welcome him with great seeming cordiality.
+
+Philip sighed.  "He has friends," he muttered to himself; and, paying his
+fare, he turned from the bustling yard, and took his solitary way home.
+
+A week after his visit to R----, Philip was settled on his probation at
+Mr. Plaskwith's, and Mrs. Morton's health was so decidedly worse, that
+she resolved to know her fate, and consult a physician.  The oracle was
+at first ambiguous in its response.  But when Mrs. Morton said firmly,
+"I have duties to perform; upon your candid answer rest my Plans with
+respect to my children--left, if I die suddenly, destitute in the
+world,"--the doctor looked hard in her face, saw its calm resolution, and
+replied frankly:
+
+"Lose no time, then, in arranging your plans; life is uncertain with all
+--with you, especially; you may live some time yet, but your constitution
+is much shaken--I fear there is water on the chest.  No, ma'am-no fee.  I
+will see you again."
+
+The physician turned to Sidney, who played with his watch-chain, and
+smiled up in his face.
+
+"And that child, sir?" said the mother, wistfully, forgetting the dread
+fiat pronounced against herself,--"he is so delicate!"
+
+"Not at all, ma'am,--a very fine little fellow;" and the doctor patted
+the boy's head, and abruptly vanished.
+
+"Ah!  mamma, I wish you would ride--I wish you would take the white
+pony!"
+
+"Poor boy! poor boy!"  muttered the mother; "I must not be selfish."  She
+covered her face with her hands, and began to think!
+
+Could she, thus doomed, resolve on declining her brother's offer?  Did it
+not, at least, secure bread and shelter to her child?  When she was dead,
+might not a tie, between the uncle and nephew, be snapped asunder?  Would
+he be as kind to the boy as now when she could commend him with her own
+lips to his care--when she could place that precious charge into his
+hands?  With these thoughts, she formed one of those resolutions which
+have all the strength of self-sacrificing love.  She would put the boy
+from her, her last solace and comfort; she would die alone,--alone!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+     "Constance.  When I shall meet him in the court of heaven, I shall
+     not know him."--King John.
+
+One evening, the shop closed and the business done, Mr. Roger Morton and
+his family sat in that snug and comfortable retreat which generally backs
+the warerooms of an English tradesman.  Happy often, and indeed happy, is
+that little sanctuary, near to, and yet remote from, the toil and care of
+the busy mart from which its homely ease and peaceful security are drawn.
+Glance down those rows of silenced shops in a town at night, and picture
+the glad and quiet groups gathered within, over that nightly and social
+meal which custom has banished from the more indolent tribes who neither
+toil nor spin.  Placed between the two extremes of life, the tradesman,
+who ventures not beyond his means, and sees clear books and sure gains,
+with enough of occupation to give healthful excitement, enough of fortune
+to greet each new-born child without a sigh, might be envied alike by
+those above and those below his state--if the restless heart of men ever
+envied Content!
+
+"And so the little boy is not to come?" said Mrs. Morton as she crossed
+her knife and fork, and pushed away her plate, in token that she had done
+supper.
+
+"I don't know.--Children, go to bed; there--there--that will do.  Good
+night!--Catherine does not say either yes or no.  She wants time to
+consider."
+
+"It was a very handsome offer on our part; some folks never know when
+they are well off."
+
+"That is very true, my dear, and you are a very sensible person.  Kate
+herself might have been an honest woman, and, what is more, a very rich
+woman, by this time.  She might have married Spencer, the young brewer--
+an excellent man, and well to do!"
+
+"Spencer! I don't remember him."
+
+"No: after she went off, he retired from business, and left the place.
+I don't know what's become of him.  He was mightily taken with her, to be
+sure.  She was uncommonly handsome, my sister Catherine."
+
+"Handsome is as handsome does, Mr. Morton," said the wife, who was very
+much marked with the small-pox.  "We all have our temptations and trials;
+this is a vale of tears, and without grace we are whited sepulchers."
+
+Mr. Morton mixed his brandy and water, and moved his chair into its
+customary corner.
+
+"You saw your brother's letter," said he, after a pause; "he gives young
+Philip a very good character."
+
+"The human heart is very deceitful," replied Mrs. Morton, who, by the
+way, spoke through her nose.  "Pray Heaven he may be what he seems; but
+what's bred in the bone comes out in the flesh."
+
+"We must hope the best," said Mr. Morton, mildly; "and--put another lump
+into the grog, my dear."
+
+"It is a mercy, I'm thinking, that we didn't have the other little boy.
+I dare say he has never even been taught his catechism: them people don't
+know what it is to be a mother.  And, besides, it would have been very
+awkward, Mr. M.; we could never have said who he was: and I've no doubt
+Miss Pryinall would have been very curious."
+
+"Miss Pryinall be ----!"  Mr. Morton checked himself, took a large
+draught of the brandy and water, and added, "Miss Pryinall wants to have
+a finger in everybody's pie."
+
+"But she buys a deal of flannel, and does great good to the town; it was
+she who found out that Mrs. Giles was no better than she should be."
+
+"Poor Mrs. Giles!--she came to the workhouse."
+
+"Poor Mrs. Giles, indeed!  I wonder, Mr. Morton, that you, a married man
+with a family, should say, poor Mrs. Giles!"
+
+"My dear, when people who have been well off come to the workhouse, they
+may be called poor:--but that's neither here nor there; only, if the boy
+does come to us, we must look sharp upon Miss Pryinall."
+
+"I hope he won't come,--it will be very unpleasant.  And when a man has a
+wife and family, the less he meddles with other folks and their little
+ones, the better.  For as the Scripture says, 'A man shall cleave to his
+wife and--'"
+
+Here a sharp, shrill ring at the bell was heard, and Mrs. Morton broke
+off into:
+
+"Well! I declare! at this hour; who can that be?  And all gone to bed!
+Do go and see, Mr. Morton."
+
+Somewhat reluctantly and slowly, Mr. Morton rose; and, proceeding to the
+passage, unbarred the door.  A brief and muttered conversation followed,
+to the great irritability of Mrs. Morton, who stood in the passage--the
+candle in her hand.
+
+"What is the matter, Mr. M.?"
+
+Mr. Morton turned back, looking agitated.
+
+"Where's my hat? oh, here.  My sister is come, at the inn."
+
+"Gracious me!  She does not go for to say she is your sister?"
+
+"No, no: here's her note-calls herself a lady that's ill.  I shall be
+back soon."
+
+"She can't come here--she sha'n't come here, Mr. M. I'm an honest woman--
+she can't come here.  You understand--"
+
+Mr. Morton had naturally a stern countenance, stern to every one but his
+wife.  The shrill tone to which he was so long accustomed jarred then on
+his heart as well as his ear.  He frowned:
+
+"Pshaw! woman, you have no feeling!" said he, and walked out of the
+house, pulling his hat over his brows.  That was the only rude speech Mr.
+Morton had ever made to his better half.  She treasured it up in her
+heart and memory; it was associated with the sister and the child; and
+she was not a woman who ever forgave.
+
+Mr. Morton walked rapidly through the still, moon-lit streets, till he
+reached the inn.  A club was held that night in one of the rooms below;
+and as he crossed the threshold, the sound of "hip-hip-hurrah!" mingled
+with the stamping of feet and the jingling of glasses, saluted his
+entrance.  He was a stiff, sober, respectable man,--a man who, except at
+elections--he was a great politician--mixed in none of the revels of his
+more boisterous townsmen.  The sounds, the spot, were ungenial to him.
+He paused, and the colour of shame rose to his brow.  He was ashamed to
+be there--ashamed to meet the desolate and, as he believed, erring
+sister.
+
+A pretty maidservant, heated and flushed with orders and compliments,
+crossed his path with a tray full of glasses.
+
+"There's a lady come by the Telegraph?"
+
+"Yes, sir, upstairs, No.  2, Mr. Morton."
+
+Mr. Morton!  He shrank at the sound of his own name.
+
+"My wife's right," he muttered.  "After all, this is more unpleasant than
+I thought for."
+
+The slight stairs shook under his hasty tread.  He opened the door of No.
+2, and that Catherine, whom he had last seen at her age of gay sixteen,
+radiant with bloom, and, but for her air of pride, the model for a Hebe,
+--that Catherine, old ere youth was gone, pale, faded, the dark hair
+silvered over, the cheeks hollow, and the eye dim,--that Catherine fell
+upon his breast!
+
+"God bless you, brother!  How kind to come!  How long since we have met!"
+
+"Sit down, Catherine, my dear sister.  You are faint--you are very much
+changed-very.  I should not have known you."
+
+"Brother, I have brought my boy; it is painful to part from him--very--
+very painful: but it is right, and God's will be done."  She turned, as
+she spoke, towards a little, deformed rickety dwarf of a sofa, that
+seemed to hide itself in the darkest corner of the low, gloomy room; and
+Morton followed her.  With one hand she removed the shawl that she had
+thrown over the child, and placing the forefinger of the other upon her
+lips-lips that smiled then--she whispered,--"We will not wake him, he is
+so tired.  But I would not put him to bed till you had seen him."
+
+And there slept poor Sidney, his fair cheek pillowed on his arm; the
+soft, silky ringlets thrown from the delicate and unclouded brow; the
+natural bloom increased by warmth and travel; the lovely face so innocent
+and hushed; the breathing so gentle and regular, as if never broken by a
+sigh.
+
+Mr. Morton drew his hand across his eyes.
+
+There was something very touching in the contrast between that wakeful,
+anxious, forlorn woman, and the slumber of the unconscious boy.  And in
+that moment, what breast upon which the light of Christian pity--of
+natural affection, had ever dawned, would, even supposing the world's
+judgment were true, have recalled Catherine's reputed error?  There is
+so divine a holiness in the love of a mother, that no matter how the
+tie that binds her to the child was formed, she becomes, as it were,
+consecrated and sacred; and the past is forgotten, and the world and its
+harsh verdicts swept away, when that love alone is visible; and the God,
+who watches over the little one, sheds His smile over the human deputy,
+in whose tenderness there breathes His own!
+
+"You will be kind to him--will you not?"  said Mrs. Morton; and the
+appeal was made with that trustful, almost cheerful tone which implies,
+'Who would not be kind to a thing so fair and helpless?'  "He is very
+sensitive and very docile; you will never have occasion to say a hard
+word to him--never! you have children of your own, brother."
+
+"He is a beautiful boy-beautiful.  I will be a father to him!"
+
+As he spoke,--the recollection of his wife--sour, querulous, austere--
+came over him, but he said to himself, "She must take to such a child,--
+women always take to beauty."  He bent down and gently pressed his lips
+to Sidney's forehead: Mrs. Morton replaced the shawl, and drew her
+brother to the other end of the room.
+
+"And now," she said, colouring as she spoke, "I must see your wife,
+brother: there is so much to say about a child that only a woman will
+recollect.  Is she very good-tempered and kind, your wife?  You know I
+never saw her; you married after--after I left."
+
+"She is a very worthy woman," said Mr. Morton, clearing his throat, "and
+brought me some money; she has a will of her own, as most women have; but
+that's neither here nor there--she is a good wife as wives go; and
+prudent and painstaking--I don't know what I should do without her."
+
+"Brother, I have one favour to request--a great favour."
+
+"Anything I can do in the way of money?"
+
+"It has nothing to do with money.  I can't live long--don't shake your
+head--I can't live long.  I have no fear for Philip, he has so much
+spirit--such strength of character--but that child!  I cannot bear to
+leave him altogether; let me stay in this town--I can lodge anywhere; but
+to see him sometimes--to know I shall be in reach if he is ill--let me
+stay here--let me die here!"
+
+"You must not talk so sadly--you are young yet--younger than I am--I
+don't think of dying."
+
+"Heaven forbid!  but--"
+
+"Well--well," interrupted Mr. Morton, who began to fear his feelings
+would hurry him into some promise which his wife would not suffer him to
+keep; "you shall talk to Margaret,--that is Mrs. Morton--I will get her
+to see you--yes, I think I can contrive that; and if you can arrange with
+her to stay,--but you see, as she brought the money, and is a very
+particular woman--"
+
+"I will see her; thank you--thank you; she cannot refuse me."
+
+"And, brother," resumed Mrs. Morton, after a short pause, and speaking in
+a firm voice--"and is it possible that you disbelieve my story?--that
+you, like all the rest, consider my children the sons of shame?"
+
+There was an honest earnestness in Catherine's voice, as she spoke,
+that might have convinced many.  But Mr. Morton was a man of facts, a
+practical man--a man who believed that law was always right, and that
+the improbable was never true.
+
+He looked down as he answered, "I think you have been a very ill-used
+woman, Catherine, and that is all I can say on the matter; let us drop
+the subject."
+
+"No!  I was not ill-used; my husband--yes, my husband--was noble and
+generous from first to last.  It was for the sake of his children's
+prospects--for the expectations they, through him, might derive from his
+proud uncle--that he concealed our marriage.  Do not blame Philip--do not
+condemn the dead."
+
+"I don't want to blame any one," said Mr. Morton, rather angrily; "I am a
+plain man--a tradesman, and can only go by what in my class seems fair
+and honest, which I can't think Mr. Beaufort's conduct was, put it how
+you will; if he marries you as you think, he gets rid of a witness, he
+destroys a certificate, and he dies without a will.  How ever, all that's
+neither here nor there.  You do quite right not to take the name of
+Beaufort, since it is an uncommon name, and would always make the story
+public.  Least said, soonest mended.  You must always consider that your
+children will be called natural children, and have their own way to make.
+No harm in that!  Warm day for your journey."  Catherine sighed, and
+wiped her eyes; she no longer reproached the world, since the son of her
+own mother disbelieved her.
+
+The relations talked together for some minutes on the past--the present;
+but there was embarrassment and constraint on both sides--it was so
+difficult to avoid one subject; and after sixteen years of absence,
+there is little left in common, even between those who once played
+together round their parent's knees.  Mr. Morton was glad at last to find
+an excuse in Catherine's fatigue to leave her.  "Cheer up, and take a
+glass of something warm before you go to bed.  Good night!" these were
+his parting words.
+
+Long was the conference, and sleepless the couch, of Mr. and Mrs. Morton.
+At first that estimable lady positively declared she would not and could
+not visit Catherine (as to receiving her, that was out of the question).
+But she secretly resolved to give up that point in order to insist with
+greater strength upon another-viz., the impossibility of Catherine
+remaining in the town; such concession for the purpose of resistance
+being a very common and sagacious policy with married ladies.
+Accordingly, when suddenly, and with a good grace, Mrs. Morton appeared
+affected by her husband's eloquence, and said, "Well, poor thing! if she
+is so ill, and you wish it so much, I will call to-morrow," Mr. Morton
+felt his heart softened towards the many excellent reasons which his wife
+urged against allowing Catherine to reside in the town.  He was a
+political character--he had many enemies; the story of his seduced
+sister, now forgotten, would certainly be raked up; it would affect his
+comfort, perhaps his trade, certainly his eldest daughter, who was now
+thirteen; it would be impossible then to adopt the plan hitherto resolved
+upon--of passing off Sidney as the legitimate orphan of a distant
+relation; it would be made a great handle for gossip by Miss Pryinall.
+Added to all these reasons, one not less strong occurred to Mr. Morton
+himself--the uncommon and merciless rigidity of his wife would render all
+the other women in the town very glad of any topic that would humble her
+own sense of immaculate propriety.  Moreover, he saw that if Catherine
+did remain, it would be a perpetual source of irritation in his own home;
+he was a man who liked an easy life, and avoided, as far as possible, all
+food for domestic worry.  And thus, when at length the wedded pair turned
+back to back, and composed themselves to sleep, the conditions of peace
+were settled, and the weaker party, as usual in diplomacy, sacrificed to
+the interests of the united powers.  After breakfast the next morning,
+Mrs. Morton sallied out on her husband's arm.  Mr. Morton was rather a
+handsome man, with an air and look grave, composed, severe, that had
+tended much to raise his character in the town.
+
+Mrs. Morton was short, wiry, and bony.  She had won her husband by making
+desperate love to him, to say nothing of a dower that enabled him to
+extend his business, new-front, as well as new-stock his shop, and rise
+into the very first rank of tradesmen in his native town.  He still
+believed that she was excessively fond of him--a common delusion of
+husbands, especially when henpecked.  Mrs. Morton was, perhaps, fond of
+him in her own way; for though her heart was not warm, there may be a
+great deal of fondness with very little feeling.  The worthy lady was now
+clothed in her best.  She had a proper pride in showing the rewards that
+belong to female virtue.  Flowers adorned her Leghorn bonnet, and her
+green silk gown boasted four flounces,--such, then, was, I am told, the
+fashion.  She wore, also, a very handsome black shawl, extremely heavy,
+though the day was oppressively hot, and with a deep border; a smart
+_sevigni_ brooch of yellow topazes glittered in her breast; a huge gilt
+serpent glared from her waistband; her hair, or more properly speaking
+her _front_, was tortured into very tight curls, and her feet into very
+tight half-laced boots, from which the fragrance of new leather had not
+yet departed.  It was this last infliction, for _il faut souffrir pour
+etre belle_, which somewhat yet more acerbated the ordinary acid of Mrs.
+Morton's temper.  The sweetest disposition is ruffled when the shoe
+pinches; and it so happened that Mrs. Roger Morton was one of those
+ladies who always have chilblains in the winter and corns in the summer.
+"So you say your sister is a beauty?"
+
+"Was a beauty, Mrs. M.,--was a beauty.  People alter."
+
+"A bad conscience, Mr. Morton, is--"
+
+"My dear, can't you walk faster?"
+
+"If you had my corns, Mr. Morton, you would not talk in that way!"
+
+The happy pair sank into silence, only broken by sundry "How d'ye dos?"
+and "Good mornings!" interchanged with their friends, till they arrived
+at the inn.
+
+"Let us go up quickly," said Mrs. Morton.
+
+And quiet--quiet to gloom, did the inn, so noisy overnight, seem by
+morning.  The shutters partially closed to keep out the sun--the taproom
+deserted--the passage smelling of stale smoke--an elderly dog, lazily
+snapping at the flies, at the foot of the staircase--not a soul to be
+seen at the bar.  The husband and wife, glad to be unobserved, crept on
+tiptoe up the stairs, and entered Catherine's apartment.
+
+Catherine was seated on the sofa, and Sidney-dressed, like Mrs. Roger
+Morton, to look his prettiest, nor yet aware of the change that awaited
+his destiny, but pleased at the excitement of seeing new friends, as
+handsome children sure of praise and petting usually are--stood by her
+side.
+
+"My wife--Catherine," said Mr. Morton.  Catherine rose eagerly, and gazed
+searchingly on her sister-in-law's hard face.  She swallowed the
+convulsive rising at her heart as she gazed, and stretched out both her
+hands, not so much to welcome as to plead.  Mrs. Roger Morton drew
+herself up, and then dropped a courtesy--it was an involuntary piece of
+good breeding--it was extorted by the noble countenance, the matronly
+mien of Catherine, different from what she had anticipated--she dropped
+the courtesy, and Catherine took her hand and pressed it.
+
+"This is my son;" she turned away her head.  Sidney advanced towards his
+protectress who was to be, and Mrs. Roger muttered:
+
+"Come here, my dear!  A fine little boy!"
+
+"As fine a child as ever I saw!"  said Mr. Morton, heartily, as he took
+Sidney on his lap, and stroked down his, golden hair.
+
+This displeased Mrs. Roger Morton, but she sat herself down, and said it
+was "very warm."
+
+"Now go to that lady, my dear," said Mr. Morton.  "Is she not a very nice
+lady?--don't you think you shall like her very much?"
+
+Sidney, the best-mannered child in the world, went boldly up to Mrs.
+Morton, as he was bid.  Mrs. Morton was embarrassed.  Some folks are so
+with other folk's children: a child either removes all constraint from a
+party, or it increases the constraint tenfold.  Mrs. Morton, however,
+forced a smile,  and said,  "I have a little boy at home about your age."
+
+"Have you?"  exclaimed Catherine, eagerly; and as if that confession made
+them friends at once, she drew a chair close to her sister-in-law's,--"My
+brother has told you all?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"And I shall stay here--in the town somewhere--and see him sometimes?"
+
+Mrs. Roger Morton glanced at her husband--her husband glanced at the
+door--and Catherine's quick eye turned from one to the other.
+
+"Mr. Morton will explain, ma' am," said the wife.
+
+"E-hem!--Catherine, my dear, I am afraid that is out of the question,"
+began Mr. Morton, who, when fairly put to it, could be business-like
+enough.  "You see bygones are bygones, and it is no use raking them up.
+But many people in the town will recollect you."
+
+"No one will see me--no one, but you and Sidney."
+
+"It will be sure to creep out; won't it, Mrs. Morton?"
+"Quite sure.  Indeed, ma'am, it is impossible.  Mr. Morton is so very
+respectable, and his neighbours pay so much attention to all he does; and
+then, if we have an election in the autumn, you see, ma'am, he has a
+great stake in the place, and is a public character."
+
+"That's neither here nor there," said Mr. Morton.  "But I say, Catherine,
+can your little boy go into the other room for a moment?  Margaret,
+suppose you take him and make friends."
+
+Delighted to throw on her husband the burden of explanation, which she
+had originally meant to have all the importance of giving herself in her
+most proper and patronising manner, Mrs. Morton twisted her fingers into
+the boy's hand, and, opening the door that communicated with the bedroom,
+left the brother and sister alone.  And then Mr. Morton, with more tact
+and delicacy than might have been expected from him, began to soften to
+Catherine the hard ship of the separation he urged.  He dwelt principally
+on what was best for the child.  Boys were so brutal in their intercourse
+with each other.  He had even thought it better represent Philip to Mr.
+Plaskwith as a more distant relation than he was; and he begged, by the
+by, that Catherine would tell Philip to take the hint.  But as for
+Sidney, sooner or later, he would go to a day-school--have companions
+of his own age--if his birth were known, he would be exposed to many
+mortifications--so much better, and so very easy, to bring him up as the
+lawful, that is the legal, offspring of some distant relation.
+
+"And," cried poor Catherine, clasping her bands, "when I am dead, is he
+never to know that I was his mother?"  The anguish of that question
+thrilled the heart of the listener.  He was affected below all the
+surface that worldly thoughts and habits had laid, stratum by stratum,
+over the humanities within.  He threw his arms round Catherine, and
+strained her to his breast:
+
+"No, my sister--my poor sister-he shall know it when he is old enough to
+understand, and to keep his own secret.  He shall know, too, how we all
+loved and prized you once; how young you were, how flattered and tempted;
+how you were deceived, for I know that--on my soul I do--I know it was
+not your fault.  He shall know, too, how fondly you loved your child, and
+how you sacrificed, for his sake, the very comfort of being near him.  He
+shall know it all--all--"
+
+"My brother--my brother, I resign him--I am content.  God reward you.
+I will go--go quickly.  I know you will take care of him now."
+
+"And you see," resumed Mr. Morton, re-settling himself, and wiping his
+eyes, "it is best, between you and me, that Mrs. Morton should have her
+own way in this.  She is a very good woman--very; but it's prudent not to
+vex her.  You may come in now, Mrs. Morton."
+
+Mrs. Morton and Sidney reappeared.
+
+"We have settled it all," said the husband.  "When can we have him?"
+
+"Not to-day," said Mrs. Roger Morton; "you see, ma'am, we must get his
+bed ready, and his sheets well aired: I am very particular."
+
+"Certainly, certainly.  Will he sleep alone?--pardon me."
+
+"He shall have a room to himself," said Mr. Morton.  "Eh, my dear?  Next
+to Martha's.  Martha is our parlourmaid--very good-natured girl, and fond
+of children."
+
+Mrs. Morton looked grave, thought a moment, and said, "Yes, he can have
+that room."
+
+"Who can have that room?" asked Sidney, innocently.  "You, my dear,"
+replied Mr. Morton.
+
+"And where will mamma sleep?  I must sleep near mamma."
+
+"Mamma is going away," said Catherine, in a firm voice, in which the
+despair would only have been felt by the acute ear of sympathy,--"going
+away for a little time: but this gentleman and lady will be very--very
+kind to you."
+
+"We will do our best, ma'am," said Mrs. Morton.
+
+And as she spoke, a sudden light broke on the boy's mind--he uttered a
+loud cry, broke from his aunt, rushed to his mother's breast, and hid his
+face there, sobbing bitterly.
+
+"I am afraid he has been very much spoiled," whispered Mrs. Roger Morton.
+"I don't think we need stay longer--it will look suspicious.  Good
+morning, ma'am: we shall be ready to-morrow."
+
+"Good-bye, Catherine," said Mr. Morton; and he added, as he kissed her,
+"Be of good heart, I will come up by myself and spend the evening with
+you."
+
+It was the night after this interview.  Sidney had gone to his new home;
+they had been all kind to him--Mr. Morton, the children, Martha the
+parlour-maid.  Mrs. Roger herself had given him a large slice of bread
+and jam, but had looked gloomy all the rest of the evening: because, like
+a dog in a strange place, he refused to eat.  His little heart was full,
+and his eyes, swimming with tears, were turned at every moment to the
+door.  But he did not show the violent grief that might have been
+expected.  His very desolation, amidst the unfamiliar faces, awed and
+chilled him.  But when Martha took him to bed, and undressed him, and he
+knelt down to say his prayers, and came to the words, "Pray God bless
+dear mamma, and make me a good child," his heart could contain its load
+no longer, and he sobbed with a passion that alarmed the good-natured
+servant.  She had been used, however, to children, and she soothed and
+caressed him, and told him of all the nice things he would do, and the
+nice toys he would have; and at last, silenced, if not convinced, his
+eyes closed, and, the tears yet wet on their lashes, he fell asleep.
+
+It had been arranged that Catherine should return home that night by a
+late coach, which left the town at twelve.  It was already past eleven.
+Mrs. Morton had retired to bed; and her husband, who had, according to
+his wont, lingered behind to smoke a cigar over his last glass of brandy
+and water, had just thrown aside the stump, and was winding up his watch,
+when he heard a low tap at his window.  He stood mute and alarmed, for
+the window opened on a back lane, dark and solitary at night, and, from
+the heat of the weather, the iron-cased shutter was not yet closed; the
+sound was repeated, and he heard a faint voice.  He glanced at the poker,
+and then cautiously moved to the window, and looked forth,--"Who's
+there?"
+
+"It is I--it is Catherine!  I cannot go without seeing my boy.  I must
+see him--I must, once more!"
+
+"My dear sister, the place is shut up--it is impossible.  God bless me,
+if Mrs. Morton should hear you!"
+
+"I have walked before this window for hours--I have waited till all is
+hushed in your house, till no one, not even a menial, need see the mother
+stealing to the bed of her child.  Brother, by the memory of our own
+mother, I command you to let me look, for the last time, upon my boy's
+face!"
+
+As Catherine said this, standing in that lonely street--darkness and
+solitude below, God and the stars above--there was about her a majesty
+which awed the listener.  Though she was so near, her features were not
+very clearly visible; but her attitude--her hand raised aloft--the
+outline of her wasted but still commanding form, were more impressive
+from the shadowy dimness of the air.
+
+"Come round, Catherine," said Mr. Morton after a pause; "I will admit
+you."
+
+He shut the window, stole to the door, unbarred it gently, and admitted
+his visitor.  He bade her follow him; and, shading the light with his
+hand, crept up the stairs.  Catherine's step made no sound.
+
+They passed, unmolested, and unheard, the room in which the wife was
+drowsily reading, according to her custom before she tied her nightcap
+and got into bed, a chapter in some pious book.  They ascended to the
+chamber where Sidney lay; Morton opened the door cautiously, and stood at
+the threshold, so holding the candle that its light might not wake the
+child, though it sufficed to guide Catherine to the bed.  The room was
+small, perhaps close, but scrupulously clean; for cleanliness was Mrs.
+Roger Morton's capital virtue.  The mother, with a tremulous hand, drew
+aside the white curtains, and checked her sobs as she gazed on the young
+quiet face that was turned towards her.  She gazed some moments in
+passionate silence; who shall say, beneath that silence, what thoughts,
+what prayers moved and stirred!
+
+Then bending down, with pale, convulsive lips she kissed the little hands
+thrown so listlessly on the coverlet of the pillow on which the head lay.
+After this she turned her face to her brother with a mute appeal in her
+glance, took a ring from her finger--a ring that had never till then left
+it--the ring which Philip Beaufort had placed there the day after that
+child was born.  "Let him wear this round his neck," said she, and
+stopped, lest she should sob aloud, and disturb the boy.  In that gift
+she felt as if she invoked the father's spirit to watch over the
+friendless orphan; and then, pressing together her own hands firmly, as
+we do in some paroxysm of great pain, she turned from the room, descended
+the stairs, gained the street, and muttered to her brother, "I am happy
+now; peace be on these thresholds!"  Before he could answer she was gone.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+               "Thus things are strangely wrought,
+               While joyful May doth last;
+               Take May in Time--when May is gone
+               The pleasant time is past."--RICHARD EDWARDS.
+                              From the Paradise of Dainty Devices.
+
+It was that period of the year when, to those who look on the surface of
+society, London wears its most radiant smile; when shops are gayest, and
+trade most brisk; when down the thoroughfares roll and glitter the
+countless streams of indolent and voluptuous life; when the upper class
+spend, and the middle class make; when the ball-room is the Market of
+Beauty, and the club-house the School for Scandal; when the hells yawn
+for their prey, and opera-singers and fiddlers--creatures hatched from
+gold, as the dung-flies from the dung-swarm, and buzz, and fatten, round
+the hide of the gentle Public  In the cant phase, it was "the London
+season."  And happy, take it altogether, happy above the rest of the
+year, even for the hapless, is that period of ferment and fever.  It is
+not the season for duns, and the debtor glides about with a less anxious
+eye; and the weather is warm, and the vagrant sleeps, unfrozen, under the
+starlit portico; and the beggar thrives, and the thief rejoices--for the
+rankness of the civilisation has superfluities clutched by all.  And out
+of the general corruption things sordid and things miserable crawl forth
+to bask in the common sunshine--things that perish when the first autumn
+winds whistle along the melancholy city.  It is the gay time for the heir
+and the beauty, and the statesman and the lawyer, and the mother with her
+young daughters, and the artist with his fresh pictures, and the poet
+with his new book.  It is the gay time, too, for the starved journeyman,
+and the ragged outcast that with long stride and patient eyes follows,
+for pence, the equestrian, who bids him go and be d---d in vain.  It is a
+gay time for the painted harlot in a crimson pelisse; and a gay time for
+the old hag that loiters about the thresholds of the gin-shop, to buy
+back, in a draught, the dreams of departed youth.  It is gay, in fine, as
+the fulness of a vast city is ever gay--for Vice as for Innocence, for
+Poverty as for Wealth.  And the wheels of every single destiny wheel on
+the merrier, no matter whether they are bound to Heaven or to Hell.
+
+Arthur Beaufort, the young heir, was at his father's house.  He was fresh
+from Oxford, where he had already discovered that learning is not better
+than house and land.  Since the new prospects opened to him, Arthur
+Beaufort was greatly changed.  Naturally studious and prudent, had his
+fortunes remained what they had been before his uncle's death, he would
+probably have become a laborious and distinguished man.  But though his
+abilities were good, he had not those restless impulses which belong to
+Genius--often not only its glory, but its curse.  The Golden Rod cast his
+energies asleep at once.  Good-natured to a fault, and somewhat
+vacillating in character, he adopted the manner and the code of the rich
+young idlers who were his equals at College.  He became, like them,
+careless, extravagant, and fond of pleasure.  This change, if it
+deteriorated his mind, improved his exterior.  It was a change that
+could not but please women; and of all women his mother the most.  Mrs.
+Beaufort was a lady of high birth; and in marrying her, Robert had hoped
+much from the interest of her connections; but a change in the ministry
+had thrown her relations out of power; and, beyond her dowry, he obtained
+no worldly advantage with the lady of his mercenary choice.  Mrs.
+Beaufort was a woman whom a word or two will describe.  She was
+thoroughly commonplace--neither bad nor good, neither clever nor silly.
+She was what is called well-bred; that is, languid, silent, perfectly
+dressed, and insipid.  Of her two children, Arthur was almost the
+exclusive favourite, especially after he became the heir to such
+brilliant fortunes.  For she was so much the mechanical creature of the
+world, that even her affection was warm or cold in proportion as the
+world shone on it.  Without being absolutely in love with her husband,
+she liked him--they suited each other; and (in spite of all the
+temptations that had beset her in their earlier years, for she had been
+esteemed a beauty--and lived, as worldly people must do, in circles where
+examples of unpunished gallantry are numerous and contagious) her conduct
+had ever been scrupulously correct.  She had little or no feeling for
+misfortunes with which she had never come into contact; for those with
+which she had--such as the distresses of younger sons, or the errors of
+fashionable women, or the disappointments of "a proper ambition"--she had
+more sympathy than might have been supposed, and touched on them with all
+the tact of well-bred charity and ladylike forbearance.  Thus, though she
+was regarded as a strict person in point of moral decorum, yet in society
+she was popular-as women at once pretty and inoffensive generally are.
+
+To do Mrs. Beaufort justice, she had not been privy to the letter her
+husband wrote to Catherine, although not wholly innocent of it.  The fact
+is, that Robert had never mentioned to her the peculiar circumstances
+that made Catherine an exception from ordinary rules--the generous
+propositions of his brother to him the night before his death; and,
+whatever his incredulity as to the alleged private marriage, the perfect
+loyalty and faith that Catherine had borne to the deceased,--he had
+merely observed, "I must do something, I suppose, for that woman; she
+very nearly entrapped my poor brother into marrying her; and he would
+then, for what I know, have cut Arthur out of the estates.  Still, I must
+do something for her--eh?"
+
+"Yes, I think so.  What was she?-very low?"
+
+"A tradesman's daughter."
+
+"The children should be provided for according to the rank of the mother;
+that's the general rule in such cases: and the mother should have about
+the same provision she might have looked for if she had married a
+tradesman and been left a widow.  I dare say she was a very artful kind
+of person, and don't deserve anything; but it is always handsomer, in the
+eyes of the world, to go by the general rules people lay down as to money
+matters."
+
+So spoke Mrs. Beaufort.  She concluded her husband had settled the
+matter, and never again recurred to it.  Indeed, she had never liked the
+late Mr. Beaufort, whom she considered _mauvais ton_.
+
+In the breakfast-room at Mr. Beaufort's, the mother and son were seated;
+the former at work, the latter lounging by the window: they were not
+alone.  In a large elbow-chair sat a middle-aged man, listening, or
+appearing to listen, to the prattle of a beautiful little girl--Arthur
+Beaufort's sister.  This man was not handsome, but there was a certain
+elegance in his air, and a certain intelligence in his countenance, which
+made his appearance pleasing.  He had that kind of eye which is often
+seen with red hair--an eye of a reddish hazel, with very long lashes; the
+eyebrows were dark, and clearly defined; and the short hair showed to
+advantage the contour of a small well-shaped head.  His features were
+irregular; the complexion had been sanguine, but was now faded, and a
+yellow tinge mingled with the red.  His face was more wrinkled,
+especially round the eyes--which, when he laughed, were scarcely visible
+--than is usual even in men ten years older.  But his teeth were still of
+a dazzling whiteness; nor was there any trace of decayed health in his
+countenance.  He seemed one who had lived hard; but who had much yet left
+in the lamp wherewith to feed the wick.  At the first glance he appeared
+slight, as he lolled listlessly in his chair--almost fragile.  But, at a
+nearer examination, you perceived that, in spite of the small extremities
+and delicate bones, his frame was constitutionally strong.  Without being
+broad in the shoulders, he was exceedingly deep in the chest--deeper than
+men who seemed giants by his side; and his gestures had the ease of one
+accustomed to an active life.  He had, indeed, been celebrated in his
+youth for his skill in athletic exercises, but a wound, received in a
+duel many years ago, had rendered him lame for life--a misfortune which
+interfered with his former habits, and was said to have soured his
+temper.  This personage, whose position and character will be described
+hereafter, was Lord Lilburne, the brother of Mrs. Beaufort.
+
+"So, Camilla," said Lord Lilburne to his niece, as carelessly, not
+fondly, he stroked down her glossy ringlets, "you don't like Berkeley
+Square as you did Gloucester Place."
+
+"Oh, no! not half so much!  You see I never walk out in the fields,
+--[Now the Regent's Park.]--nor make daisy-chains at Primrose Hill.  I
+don't know what mamma means," added the child, in a whisper, "in saying
+we are better off here."
+
+Lord Lilburne smiled, but the smile was a half sneer.  "You will know
+quite soon enough, Camilla; the understandings of young ladies grow up
+very quickly on this side of Oxford Street.  Well, Arthur, and what are
+your plans to-day?"
+
+"Why," said Arthur, suppressing a yawn, "I have promised to ride out with
+a friend of mine, to see a horse that is for sale somewhere in the
+suburbs."
+
+As he spoke, Arthur rose, stretched himself, looked in the glass, and
+then glanced impatiently at the window.
+
+"He ought to be here by this time."
+
+"He! who?"  said Lord Lilburne, "the horse or the other animal--I mean
+the friend?"
+
+"The friend," answered Arthur, smiling, but colouring while he smiled,
+for he half suspected the quiet sneer of his uncle.
+
+"Who is your friend, Arthur?" asked Mrs. Beaufort, looking up from her
+work.
+
+"Watson, an Oxford man.  By the by, I must introduce him to you."
+
+"Watson! what Watson? what family of Watson?  Some Watsons are good and
+some are bad," said Mrs. Beaufort, musingly.
+
+"Then they are very unlike the rest of mankind," observed Lord Lilburne,
+drily.
+
+"Oh! my Watson is a very gentlemanlike person, I assure you," said
+Arthur, half-laughing, "and you need not be ashamed of him."  Then,
+rather desirous of turning the conversation, he continued, "So my father
+will be back from Beaufort Court to-day?"
+
+"Yes; he writes in excellent spirits.  He says the rents will bear
+raising at least ten per cent., and that the house will not require much
+repair."
+
+Here Arthur threw open the window.
+
+"Ah, Watson! how are you?  How d'ye do, Marsden?  Danvers, too! that's
+capital! the more the merrier!  I will be down in an instant.  But would
+you not rather come in?"
+
+"An agreeable inundation," murmured Lord Lilburne.  "Three at a time: he
+takes your house for Trinity College."
+
+A loud, clear voice, however, declined the invitation; the horses were
+heard pawing without.  Arthur seized his hat and whip, and glanced to his
+mother and uncle, smilingly.  "Good-bye!  I shall be out till dinner.
+Kiss me, my pretty Milly!"  And as his sister, who had run to the window,
+sickening for the fresh air and exercise he was about to enjoy, now
+turned to him wistful and mournful eyes, the kind-hearted young man took
+her in his arms, and whispered while he kissed her:
+
+"Get up early to-morrow, and we'll have such a nice walk together."
+
+Arthur was gone: his mother's gaze had followed his young and graceful
+figure to the door.
+
+"Own that he is handsome, Lilburne.  May I not say more:--has he not the
+proper air?"
+
+"My dear sister, your son will be rich.  As for his air, he has plenty of
+airs, but wants graces."
+
+"Then who could polish him like yourself?"
+
+"Probably no one.  But had I a son--which Heaven forbid!--he should not
+have me for his Mentor.  Place a young man--(go and shut the door,
+Camilla!)--between two vices--women and gambling, if you want to polish
+him into the fashionable smoothness. _Entre nous_, the varnish is a
+little expensive!"
+
+Mrs. Beaufort sighed.  Lord Lilburne smiled.  He had a strange pleasure
+in hurting the feelings of others.  Besides, he disliked youth: in his
+own youth he had enjoyed so much that he grew sour when he saw the young.
+
+Meanwhile Arthur Beaufort and his friends, careless of the warmth of the
+day, were laughing merrily, and talking gaily, as they made for the
+suburb of H----.
+
+"It is an out-of-the-way place for a horse, too," said Sir Harry Danvers.
+
+"But I assure you," insisted Mr. Watson, earnestly, that my groom, who is
+a capital judge, says it is the cleverest hack he ever mounted.  It has
+won several trotting matches.  It belonged to a sporting tradesman, now
+done up.  The advertisement caught me."
+
+"Well," said Arthur, gaily, "at all events the ride is delightful.  What
+weather!  You must all dine with me at Richmond to-morrow--we will row
+back."
+
+"And a little chicken-hazard, at the M---, afterwards," said Mr. Marsden,
+who was an elder, not a better, man than the rest--a handsome, saturnine
+man--who had just left Oxford, and was already known on the turf.
+
+"Anything you please," said Arthur, making his horse curvet.
+
+Oh, Mr. Robert Beaufort!  Mr. Robert Beaufort!  could your prudent,
+scheming, worldly heart but feel what devil's tricks your wealth was
+playing with a son who if poor had been the pride of the Beauforts!  On
+one side of our pieces of old we see the saint trampling down the dragon.
+False emblem!  Reverse it on the coin!  In the real use of the gold, it
+is the dragon who tramples down the saint!  But on--on! the day is bright
+and your companions merry; make the best of your green years, Arthur
+Beaufort!
+
+The young men had just entered the suburb of H---, and were spurring on
+four abreast at a canter.  At that time an old man, feeling his way
+before him with a stick,--for though not quite blind, he saw
+imperfectly,--was crossing the road.  Arthur and his friends, in loud
+converse, did not observe the poor passenger.  He stopped abruptly, for
+his ear caught the sound of danger--it was too late: Mr. Marsden's horse,
+hard-mouthed, and high-stepping, came full against him.  Mr. Marsden
+looked down:
+
+"Hang these old men! always in the way," said he, plaintively, and in the
+tone of a much-injured person, and, with that, Mr. Marsden rode on.  But
+the others, who were younger--who were not gamblers--who were not yet
+grinded down into stone by the world's wheels--the others halted.  Arthur
+Beaufort leaped from his horse, and the old man was already in his arms;
+but he was severely hurt.  The blood trickled from his forehead; he
+complained of pains in his side and limbs.
+
+"Lean on me, my poor fellow!  Do you live far off? I will take you home."
+
+"Not many yards.  This would not have happened if I had had my dog.
+Never mind, sir, go your way.  It is only an old man--what of that?  I
+wish I had my dog."
+
+"I will join you," said Arthur to his friends; "my groom has the
+direction.  I will just take the poor old man home, and send for a
+surgeon.  I shall not be long."
+
+"So like you, Beaufort: the best fellow in the world!"  said Mr. Watson,
+with some emotion.  "And there's Marsden positively, dismounted, and
+looking at his horse's knees as if they could be hurt!  Here's a
+sovereign for you, my man."
+
+"And here's another," said Sir Harry; "so that's settled.  Well, you will
+join us, Beaufort?  You see the yard yonder.  We'll wait twenty minutes
+for you.  Come on, Watson."  The old man had not picked up the sovereigns
+thrown at his feet, neither had he thanked the donors.  And on his
+countenance there was a sour, querulous, resentful expression.
+
+"Must a man be a beggar because he is run over, or because he is half
+blind?"  said he, turning his dim, wandering eyes painfully towards
+Arthur.  "Well, I wish I had my dog!"
+
+"I will supply his place," said Arthur, soothingly.  "Come, lean on me--
+heavier; that's right.  You are not so bad,--eh?"
+
+"Um!--the sovereigns!--it is wicked to leave them in the kennel!"
+
+Arthur smiled.  "Here they are, sir."
+
+The old man slid the coins into his pocket, and Arthur continued to talk,
+though he got but short answers, and those only in the way of direction,
+till at last the old man stopped at the door of a small house near the
+churchyard.
+
+After twice ringing the bell, the door was opened by a middle-aged woman,
+whose appearance was above that of a common menial; dressed, somewhat
+gaily for her years, in a cap seated very far back on a black _touroet_,
+and decorated with red ribands, an apron made out of an Indian silk
+handkerchief, a puce-coloured sarcenet gown, black silk stockings, long
+gilt earrings, and a watch at her girdle.
+
+"Bless us and save us, sir!  What has happened?"  exclaimed this worthy
+personage, holding up her hands.
+
+"Pish!  I am faint: let me in.  I don't want your aid any more, sir.
+Thank you.  Good day!"
+
+Not discouraged by this farewell, the churlish tone of which fell
+harmless on the invincibly sweet temper of Arthur, the young man
+continued to assist the sufferer along the narrow passage into a little
+old-fashioned parlour; and no sooner was the owner deposited on his worm-
+eaten leather chair than he fainted away.  On reaching the house, Arthur
+had sent his servant (who had followed him with the horses) for the
+nearest surgeon; and while the woman was still employed, after taking off
+the sufferer's cravat, in burning feathers under his nose, there was
+heard a sharp rap and a shrill ring.  Arthur opened the door, and
+admitted a smart little man in nankeen breeches and gaiters.  He bustled
+into the room.
+
+"What's this--bad accident--um--um!  Sad thing, very sad.  Open the
+window.  A glass of water--a towel."
+
+"So--so: I see--I see--no fracture--contusion.  Help him off with his
+coat.  Another chair, ma'am; put up his poor legs.  What age is he,
+ma'am?--Sixty-eight!  Too old to bleed.  Thank you.  How is it, sir?
+Poorly, to be sure will be comfortable presently--faintish still?  Soon
+put all to rights."
+
+"Tray!  Tray!  Where's my dog, Mrs. Boxer?"
+
+"Lord, sir, what do you want with your dog now?  He is in the back-yard."
+
+"And what business has my dog in the back-yard?" almost screamed the
+sufferer, in accents that denoted no diminution of vigour.  "I thought as
+soon as my back was turned my dog would be ill-used!  Why did I go
+without my dog?  Let in my dog directly, Mrs. Boxer!"
+
+"All right, you see, sir," said the apothecary, turning to Beaufort--
+"no cause for alarm--very comforting that little passion--does him good--
+sets one's mind easy.  How did it happen?  Ah, I understand!  knocked
+down--might have been worse.  Your groom (sharp fellow!) explained in a
+trice, sir.  Thought it was my old friend here by the description.
+Worthy man--settled here a many year--very odd-eccentric (this in a
+whisper).  Came off instantly: just at dinner--cold lamb and salad.
+'Mrs. Perkins,' says I, 'if any one calls for me, I shall be at No. 4,
+Prospect Place.'  Your servant observed the address, sir.  Oh, very
+sharp fellow!  See how the old gentleman takes to his dog--fine little
+dog--what a stump of a tail!  Deal of practice--expect two accouchements
+every hour.  Hot weather for childbirth.  So says I to Mrs. Perkins, 'If
+Mrs. Plummer is taken, or Mrs. Everat, or if old Mr. Grub has another
+fit, send off at once to No. 4.  Medical men should be always in the way-
+that's my maxim.  Now, sir, where do you feel the pain?"
+
+"In my ears, sir."
+
+"Bless me, that looks bad.  How long have you felt it?"
+
+"Ever since you have been in the room."
+
+"Oh!  I take.  Ha! ha!--very eccentric--very!"  muttered the apothecary,
+a little disconcerted.  "Well, let him lie down, ma'am.  I'll send him a
+little quieting draught to be taken directly--pill at night, aperient in
+the morning.  If wanted, send for me--always to be found.  Bless me,
+that's my boy Bob's ring.  Please to open the door, ma' am.  Know his
+ring--very peculiar knack of his own.  Lay ten to one it is Mrs. Plummer,
+or perhaps.  Mrs. Everat--her ninth child in eight years--in the grocery
+line.  A woman in a thousand, sir!"
+
+Here a thin boy, with very short coat-sleeves, and very large hands,
+burst into the room with his mouth open.  "Sir--Mr. Perkins--sir!"
+
+"I know--I know-coming.  Mrs. Plummer or Mrs. Everat?"
+
+"No, sir; it be the poor lady at Mrs. Lacy's; she be taken desperate.
+Mrs. Lacy's girl has just been over to the shop, and made me run here to
+you, sir."
+
+"Mrs. Lacy's! oh, I know.  Poor Mrs. Morton!  Bad case--very bad--must be
+off.  Keep him quiet, ma'am.  Good day!  Look in to-morrow-nine o'clock.
+Put a little lint with the lotion on the head, ma'am.  Mrs. Morton!  Ah!
+bad job that."
+
+Here the apothecary had shuffled himself off to the street door, when
+Arthur laid his hand on his arm.
+
+"Mrs. Morton!  Did you say Morton, sir?  What kind of a person--is she
+very ill?"
+
+"Hopeless case, sir--general break-up.  Nice woman--quite the lady--known
+better days, I'm sure."
+
+"Has she any children--sons?"
+
+"Two--both away now--fine lads--quite wrapped up in them--youngest
+especially."
+
+"Good heavens! it must be she--ill, and dying, and destitute, perhaps,"--
+exclaimed Arthur, with real and deep feeling; "I will go with you, sir.
+I fancy that I know this lady--that," he added generously, "I am related
+to her."
+
+"Do you?--glad to hear it.  Come along, then; she ought to have some one
+near her besides servants: not but what Jenny, the maid, is uncommonly
+kind.  Dr. -----, who attends her sometimes, said to me, says he, 'It is
+the mind, Mr. Perkins; I wish we could get back her boys."
+
+"And where are they?"
+
+"'Prenticed out, I fancy.  Master Sidney--"
+
+"Sidney!"
+
+"Ah! that was his name--pretty name.  D'ye know Sir Sidney Smith?--
+extraordinary man, sir!  Master Sidney was a beautiful child--quite
+spoiled.  She always fancied him ailing--always sending for me.  'Mr.
+Perkins,' said she, 'there's something the matter with my child; I'm sure
+there is, though he won't own it.  He has lost his appetite--had a
+headache last night.'  'Nothing the matter, ma'am,' says I; 'wish you'd
+think more of yourself.'
+
+"These mothers are silly, anxious, poor creatures.  Nater, sir, Nater--
+wonderful thing--Nater!--Here we are."
+
+And the apothecary knocked at the private door of a milliner and hosier's
+shop.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+"Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourished."--Titus Andronicus.
+
+As might be expected, the excitement and fatigue of Catherine's journey
+to N---- had considerably accelerated the progress of disease.  And when
+she reached home, and looked round the cheerless rooms all solitary, all
+hushed--Sidney gone, gone from her for ever, she felt, indeed, as if the
+last reed on which she had leaned was broken, and her business upon earth
+was done.  Catherine was not condemned to absolute poverty--the poverty
+which grinds and gnaws, the poverty of rags and famine.  She had still
+left nearly half of such portion of the little capital, realised by the
+sale of her trinkets, as had escaped the clutch of the law; and her
+brother had forced into her hands a note for L20. with an assurance that
+the same sum should be paid to her half-yearly.  Alas!  there was little
+chance of her needing it again!  She was not, then, in want of means to
+procure the common comforts of life.  But now a new passion had entered
+into her breast--the passion of the miser; she wished to hoard every
+sixpence as some little provision for her children.  What was the use of
+her feeding a lamp nearly extinguished, and which was fated to be soon
+broken up and cast amidst the vast lumber-house of Death?  She would
+willingly have removed into a more homely lodging, but the servant of the
+house had been so fond of Sidney--so kind to him.  She clung to one
+familiar face on which there seemed to live the reflection of her
+child's.  But she relinquished the first floor for the second; and there,
+day by day, she felt her eyes grow heavier and heavier beneath the clouds
+of the last sleep.  Besides the aid of Mr. Perkins, a kind enough man in
+his way, the good physician whom she had before consulted, still attended
+her, and refused his fee.  Shocked at perceiving that she rejected every
+little alleviation of her condition, and wishing at least to procure for
+her last hours the society of one of her sons, he had inquired the
+address of the elder; and on the day preceding the one in which Arthur
+discovered her abode, he despatched to Philip the following letter:
+
+"SIR:--Being called in to attend your mother in a lingering illness, which
+I fear may prove fatal, I think it my duty to request you to come to her
+as soon as you receive this.  Your presence cannot but be a great comfort
+to her.  The nature of her illness is such that it is impossible to
+calculate exactly how long she may be spared to you; but I am sure her
+fate might be prolonged, and her remaining days more happy, if she could
+be induced to remove into a better air and a more quiet neighbourhood, to
+take more generous sustenance, and, above all, if her mind could be set
+more at ease as to your and your brother's prospects.  You must pardon me
+if I have seemed inquisitive; but I have sought to draw from your mother
+some particulars as to her family and connections, with a wish to
+represent to them her state of mind.  She is, however, very reserved on
+these points.  If, however, you have relations well to do in the world, I
+think some application to them should be made.  I fear the state of her
+affairs weighs much upon your poor mother's mind; and I must leave you to
+judge how far it can be relieved by the good feeling of any persons upon
+whom she may have legitimate claims.  At all events, I repeat my wish
+that you should come to her forthwith.
+                                   "I am, &c."
+
+After the physician had despatched this letter, a sudden and marked
+alteration for the worse took place in his patient's disorder; and in the
+visit he had paid that morning, he saw cause to fear that her hours on
+earth would be much fewer than he had before anticipated.  He had left
+her, however, comparatively better; but two hours after his departure,
+the symptoms of her disease had become very alarming, and the good-
+natured servant girl, her sole nurse, and who had, moreover, the whole
+business of the other lodgers to attend to, had, as we have seen, thought
+it necessary to summon the apothecary in the interval that must elapse
+before she could reach the distant part of the metropolis in which Dr.
+---- resided.
+
+On entering the chamber, Arthur felt all the remorse, which of right
+belonged to his father, press heavily on his soul.  What a contrast, that
+mean and solitary chamber, and its comfortless appurtenances, to the
+graceful and luxurious abode where, full of health and hope, he had last
+beheld her, the mother of Philip Beaufort's children!  He remained silent
+till Mr. Perkins, after a few questions, retired to send his drugs.  He
+then approached the bed; Catherine, though very weak and suffering much
+pain, was still sensible.  She turned her dim eyes on the young man; but
+she did not recognise his features.
+
+"You do not remember me?" said he, in a voice struggling with tears: "I
+am Arthur--Arthur Beaufort."  Catherine made no answer.
+
+"Good Heavens!  Why do I see you here?  I believed you with your friends
+--your children provided for--as became my father to do.  He assured me
+that you were so."  Still no answer.
+
+And then the young man, overpowered with the feelings of a sympathising
+and generous nature, forgetting for a while Catherine's weakness, poured
+forth a torrent of inquiries, regrets, and self-upbraidings, which
+Catherine at first little heeded.  But the name of her children, repeated
+again and again, struck upon that chord which, in a woman's heart, is the
+last to break; and she raised herself in her bed, and looked at her
+visitor wistfully.
+
+"Your father," she said, then--"your father was unlike my Philip; but I
+see things differently now.  For me, all bounty is too late; but my
+children--to-morrow they may have no mother.  The law is with you, but
+not justice!  You will be rich and powerful;--will you befriend my
+children?"
+
+"Through life, so help me Heaven!"  exclaimed Arthur, falling on his
+knees beside the bed.
+
+What then passed between them it is needless to detail; for it was
+little, save broken repetitions of the same prayer and the same response.
+But there was so much truth and earnestness in Arthur's voice and
+countenance, that Catherine felt as if an angel had come there to
+administer comfort.  And when late in the day the physician entered, he
+found his patient leaning on the breast of her young visitor, and looking
+on his face with a happy smile.
+
+The physician gathered enough from the appearance of Arthur and the
+gossip of Mr. Perkins, to conjecture that one of the rich relations he
+had attributed to Catherine was arrived.  Alas! for her it was now indeed
+too late!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+          "D'ye stand amazed?--Look o'er thy head, Maximinian!
+          Look to the terror which overhangs thee."
+                            BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER: _The Prophetess_.
+
+Phillip had been five weeks in his new home: in another week, he was to
+enter on his articles of apprenticeship.  With a stern, unbending gloom
+of manner, he had commenced the duties of his novitiate.  He submitted to
+all that was enjoined him.  He seemed to have lost for ever the wild and
+unruly waywardness that had stamped his boyhood; but he was never seen to
+smile--he scarcely ever opened his lips.  His very soul seemed to have
+quitted him with its faults; and he performed all the functions of his
+situation with the quiet listless regularity of a machine.  Only when the
+work was done and the shop closed, instead of joining the family circle
+in the back parlour, he would stroll out in the dusk of the evening, away
+from the town, and not return till the hour at which the family retired
+to rest.  Punctual in all he did, he never exceeded that hour.  He had
+heard once a week from his mother; and only on the mornings in which he
+expected a letter, did he seem restless and agitated.  Till the postman
+entered the shop, he was as pale as death--his hands trembling--his lips
+compressed.  When he read the letter he became composed for Catherine
+sedulously concealed from her son the state of her health: she wrote
+cheerfully, besought him to content himself with the state into which he
+had fallen, and expressed her joy that in his letters he intimated that
+content; for the poor boy's letters were not less considerate than her
+own.  On her return from her brother, she had so far silenced or
+concealed her misgivings as to express satisfaction at the home she had
+provided for Sidney; and she even held out hopes of some future when,
+their probation finished and their independence secured, she might reside
+with her sons alternately.  These hopes redoubled Philip's assiduity, and
+he saved every shilling of his weekly stipend; and sighed as he thought
+that in another week his term of apprenticeship would commence, and the
+stipend cease.
+
+Mr. Plaskwith could not but be pleased on the whole with the diligence of
+his assistant, but he was chafed and irritated by the sullenness of his
+manner.  As for Mrs. Plaskwith, poor woman! she positively detested the
+taciturn and moody boy, who never mingled in the jokes of the circle, nor
+played with the children, nor complimented her, nor added, in short,
+anything to the sociability of the house.  Mr. Plimmins, who had at first
+sought to condescend, next sought to bully; but the gaunt frame and
+savage eye of Philip awed the smirk youth, in spite of himself; and he
+confessed to Mrs. Plaskwith that he should not like to meet "the gipsy,"
+alone, on a dark night; to which Mrs. Plaskwith replied, as usual, "that
+Mr. Plimmins always did say the best things in the world!"
+
+One morning, Philip was sent a few miles into the country, to assist in
+cataloguing some books in the library of Sir Thomas Champerdown--that
+gentleman, who was a scholar, having requested that some one acquainted
+with the Greek character might be sent to him, and Philip being the only
+one in the shop who possessed such knowledge.
+
+It was evening before he returned.  Mr. and Mrs. Plaskwith were both in
+the shop as he entered--in fact, they had been employed in talking him
+over.
+
+"I can't abide him!"  cried Mrs. Plaskwith.  "If you choose to take him
+for good, I sha'n't have an easy moment.  I'm sure the 'prentice that
+cut his master's throat at Chatham, last week, was just like him."
+
+"Pshaw! Mrs. P.," said the bookseller, taking a huge pinch of snuff, as
+usual, from his waistcoat pocket.  "I myself was reserved when I was
+young; all reflective people are.  I may observe, by the by, that it was
+the case with Napoleon Buonaparte: still, however, I must own he is a
+disagreeable youth, though he attends to his business."
+
+"And how fond of money he is!" remarked Mrs. Plaskwith, "he won't buy
+himself a new pair of shoes!--quite disgraceful!  And did you see what a
+look he gave Plimmins, when he joked about his indifference to his sole?
+Plimmins always does say such good things!"
+
+"He is shabby, certainly," said the bookseller; "but the value of a book
+does not always depend on the binding."
+
+"I hope he is honest!"  observed Mrs. Plaskwith;--and here Philip
+entered.
+
+"Hum," said Mr. Plaskwith; "you have had a long day's work: but I suppose
+it will take a week to finish?"
+
+"I am to go again to-morrow morning, sir: two days more will conclude the
+task."
+
+"There's a letter for you," cried Mrs. Plaskwith; "you owes me for it."
+
+"A letter!"  It was not his mother's hand--it was a strange writing--he
+gasped for breath as he broke the seal.  It was the letter of the
+physician.
+
+His mother, then, was ill-dying-wanting, perhaps, the necessaries of
+life.  She would have concealed from him her illness and her poverty.
+His quick alarm exaggerated the last into utter want;--he uttered a cry
+that rang through the shop, and rushed to Mr. Plaskwith.
+
+"Sir, sir!  my mother is dying!  She is poor, poor, perhaps starving;--
+money, money!--lend me money!--ten pounds!--five!--I will work for you
+all my life for nothing, but lend me the money!"
+
+"Hoity-toity!" said Mrs. Plaskwith, nudging her husband--"I told you
+what would come of it: it will be 'money or life' next time."
+
+Philip did not heed or hear this address; but stood immediately before
+the bookseller, his hands clasped--wild impatience in his eyes.  Mr.
+Plaskwith, somewhat stupefied, remained silent.
+
+"Do you hear me?--are you human?"  exclaimed Philip, his emotion
+revealing at once all the fire of his character.  "I tell you my mother
+is dying; I must go to her!  Shall I go empty-handed!  Give me money!"
+
+Mr. Plaskwith was not a bad-hearted man; but he was a formal man, and an
+irritable one.  The tone his shopboy (for so he considered Philip)
+assumed to him, before his own wife too (examples are very dangerous),
+rather exasperated than moved him.
+
+"That's not the way to speak to your master:--you forget yourself, young
+man!"
+
+"Forget!--But, sir, if she has not necessaries-if she is starving?"
+
+"Fudge!" said Plaskwith.  "Mr. Morton writes me word that he has provided
+for your mother!  Does he not, Hannah?"
+
+"More fool he, I'm sure, with such a fine family of his own!  Don't look
+at me in that way, young man; I won't take it--that I won't!  I declare
+my blood friz to see you!"
+
+"Will you advance me money?--five pounds--only five pounds, Mr.
+Plaskwith?"
+
+"Not five shillings!  Talk to me in this style!--not the man for it,
+sir!--highly improper.  Come, shut up the shop, and recollect yourself;
+and, perhaps, when Sir Thomas's library is done, I may let you go to
+town.  You can't go to-morrow.  All a sham, perhaps; eh, Hannah?"
+
+"Very likely!  Consult Plimmins.  Better come away now, Mr. P.  He looks
+like a young tiger."
+
+Mrs. Plaskwith quitted the shop for the parlour.  Her husband, putting
+his hands behind his back, and throwing back his chin, was about to
+follow her.  Philip, who had remained for the last moment mute and white
+as stone, turned abruptly; and his grief taking rather the tone of rage
+than supplication, he threw himself before his master, and, laying his
+hand on his shoulder, said:
+
+"I leave you--do not let it be with a curse.  I conjure you, have mercy
+on me!"
+
+Mr. Plaskwith stopped; and had Philip then taken but a milder tone, all
+had been well.  But, accustomed from childhood to command--all his fierce
+passions loose within him--despising the very man he thus implored--the
+boy ruined his own cause.  Indignant at the silence of Mr. Plaskwith, and
+too blinded by his emotions to see that in that silence there was
+relenting, he suddenly shook the little man with a vehemence that almost
+overset him, and cried:
+
+"You, who demand for five years my bones and blood--my body and soul--a
+slave to your vile trade--do you deny me bread for a mother's lips?"
+
+Trembling with anger, and perhaps fear, Mr. Plaskwith extricated himself
+from the gripe of Philip, and, hurrying from the shop, said, as he banged
+the door:
+
+"Beg my pardon for this to-night, or out you go to-morrow, neck and crop!
+Zounds! a pretty pass the world's come to!  I don't believe a word about
+your mother.  Baugh!"
+
+Left alone, Philip remained for some moments struggling with his wrath
+and agony.  He then seized his hat, which he had thrown off on entering--
+pressed it over his brows--turned to quit the shop--when his eye fell
+upon the till.  Plaskwith had left it open, and the gleam of the coin
+struck his gaze--that deadly smile of the arch tempter.  Intellect,
+reason, conscience--all, in that instant, were confusion and chaos.  He
+cast a hurried glance round the solitary and darkening room--plunged his
+hand into the drawer, clutched he knew not what--silver or gold, as it
+came uppermost--and burst into a loud and bitter laugh.  The laugh itself
+startled him--it did not sound like his own.  His face fell, and his
+knees knocked together--his hair bristled--he felt as if the very fiend
+had uttered that yell of joy over a fallen soul.
+
+"No--no--no!" he muttered; "no, my mother,--not even for thee!"  And,
+dashing the money to the ground, he fled, like a maniac, from the house.
+
+At a later hour that same evening, Mr. Robert Beaufort returned from his
+country mansion to Berkeley Square.  He found his wife very uneasy and
+nervous about the non-appearance of their only son.  Arthur had sent home
+his groom and horses about seven o'clock, with a hurried scroll, written
+in pencil on a blank page torn from his pocket-book, and containing only
+these words,--
+
+"Don't wait dinner for me--I may not be home for some hours.  I have met
+with a melancholy adventure.  You will approve what I have done when we
+meet."
+
+This note a little perplexed Mr. Beaufort; but, as he was very hungry, he
+turned a deaf ear both to his wife's conjectures and his own surmises,
+till he had refreshed himself; and then he sent for the groom, and
+learned that, after the accident to the blind man, Mr. Arthur had been
+left at a hosier's in H----.  This seemed to him extremely mysterious;
+and, as hour after hour passed away, and still Arthur came not, he began
+to imbibe his wife's fears, which were now wound up almost to hysterics;
+and just at midnight he ordered his carriage, and taking with him the
+groom as a guide, set off to the suburban region.  Mrs. Beaufort had
+wished to accompany him; but the husband observing that young men would
+be young men, and that there might possibly be a lady in the case, Mrs.
+Beaufort, after a pause of thought, passively agreed that, all things
+considered, she had better remain at home.  No lady of proper decorum
+likes to run the risk of finding herself in a false position.  Mr.
+Beaufort accordingly set out alone.  Easy was the carriage--swift were
+the steeds--and luxuriously the wealthy man was whirled along.  Not a
+suspicion of the true cause of Arthur's detention crossed him; but he
+thought of the snares of London--or artful females in distress; "a
+melancholy adventure" generally implies love for the adventure, and money
+for the melancholy; and Arthur was young--generous--with a heart and a
+pocket equally open to imposition.  Such scrapes, however, do not terrify
+a father when he is a man of the world, so much as they do an anxious
+mother; and, with more curiosity than alarm, Mr. Beaufort, after a short
+doze, found himself before the shop indicated.
+
+Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, the door to the private
+entrance was ajar,--a circumstance which seemed very suspicious to Mr.
+Beaufort.  He pushed it open with caution and timidity--a candle placed
+upon a chair in the narrow passage threw a sickly light over the flight
+of stairs, till swallowed up by the deep shadow from the sharp angle made
+by the ascent.  Robert Beaufort stood a moment in some doubt whether to
+call, to knock, to recede, or to advance, when a step was heard upon the
+stairs above--it came nearer and nearer--a figure emerged from the shadow
+of the last landing-place, and Mr. Beaufort, to his great joy, recognised
+his son.
+
+Arthur did not, however, seem to perceive his father; and was about to
+pass him, when Mr. Beaufort laid his hand on his arm.
+
+"What means all this, Arthur?  What place are you in?  How you have
+alarmed us!"
+
+Arthur cast a look upon his father of sadness and reproach.
+
+"Father," he said, in a tone that sounded stern--almost commanding--"I
+will show you where I have been; follow me--nay, I say, follow."
+
+He turned, without another word re-ascended the stairs; and Mr. Beaufort,
+surprised and awed into mechanical obedience, did as his son desired.  At
+the landing-place of the second floor, another long-wicked, neglected,
+ghastly candle emitted its cheerless ray.  It gleamed through the open
+door of a small bedroom to the left, through which Beaufort perceived the
+forms of two women.  One (it was the kindly maidservant) was seated on a
+chair, and weeping bitterly; the other (it was a hireling nurse, in the
+first and last day of her attendance) was unpinning her dingy shawl
+before she lay down to take a nap.  She turned her vacant, listless face
+upon the two men, put on a doleful smile, and decently closed the door.
+
+"Where are we, I say, Arthur?" repeated Mr. Beaufort.  Arthur took his
+father's hand-drew him into a room to the right--and taking up the
+candle, placed it on a small table beside a bell, and said, "Here, sir--
+in the presence of Death!"
+
+Mr. Beaufort cast a hurried and fearful glance on the still, wan, serene
+face beneath his eyes, and recognised in that glance the features of the
+neglected and the once adored Catherine.
+
+"Yes--she, whom your brother so loved--the mother of his children--died
+in this squalid room, and far from her sons, in poverty, in sorrow! died
+of a broken heart!  Was that well, father?  Have you in this nothing to
+repent?"
+
+Conscience-stricken and appalled, the worldly man sank down on a seat
+beside the bed, and covered his face with his hands.
+
+"Ay," continued Arthur, almost bitterly--"ay, we, his nearest of kin--we,
+who have inherited his lands and gold--we have been thus heedless of the
+great legacy your brother bequeathed to us:--the things dearest to him--
+the woman he loved--the children his death cast, nameless and branded, on
+the world.  Ay, weep, father: and while you weep, think of the future, of
+reparation.  I have sworn to that clay to befriend her sons; join you,
+who have all the power to fulfil the promise--join in that vow: and may
+Heaven not visit on us both the woes of this bed of death!"
+
+"I did not know--I--I--" faltered Mr. Beaufort.
+
+"But we should have known," interrupted Arthur, mournfully.  "Ah, my dear
+father! do not harden your heart by false excuses.  The dead still speaks
+to you, and commends to your care her children.  My task here is done: O
+sir! yours is to come.  I leave you alone with the dead."
+
+So saying, the young man, whom the tragedy of the scene had worked into a
+passion and a dignity above his usual character, unwilling to trust
+himself farther to his emotions, turned abruptly from the room, fled
+rapidly down the stairs and left the house.  As the carriage and liveries
+of his father met his eye, he groaned; for their evidences of comfort and
+wealth seemed a mockery to the deceased: he averted his face and walked
+on.  Nor did he heed or even perceive a form that at that instant rushed
+by him--pale, haggard, breathless--towards the house which he had
+quitted, and the door of which he left open, as he had found it--open, as
+the physician had left it when hurrying, ten minutes before the arrival
+of Mr. Beaufort, from the spot where his skill was impotent.  Wrapped in
+gloomy thought, alone, and on foot-at that dreary hour, and in that
+remote suburb--the heir of the Beauforts sought his splendid home.
+Anxious, fearful, hoping, the outcast orphan flew on to the death-room
+of his mother.
+
+Mr. Beaufort, who had but imperfectly heard Arthur's parting accents,
+lost and bewildered by the strangeness of his situation, did not at first
+perceive that he was left alone.  Surprised, and chilled by the sudden
+silence of the chamber, he rose, withdrew his hands from his face, and
+again he saw that countenance so mute and solemn.  He cast his gaze round
+the dismal room for Arthur; he called his name--no answer came; a
+superstitious tremor seized upon him; his limbs shook; he sank once more
+on his seat, and closed his eyes: muttering, for the first time, perhaps,
+since his childhood, words of penitence and prayer.  He was roused
+from this bitter self-abstraction by a deep groan.  It seemed to come
+from the bed.  Did his ears deceive him?  Had the dead found a voice?  He
+started up in an agony of dread, and saw opposite to him the livid
+countenance of Philip Morton: the Son of the Corpse had replaced the Son
+of the Living Man!  The dim and solitary light fell upon that
+countenance.  There, all the bloom and freshness natural to youth seemed
+blasted!  There, on those wasted features, played all the terrible power
+and glare of precocious passions,--rage, woe, scorn, despair.  Terrible
+is it to see upon the face of a boy the storm and whirlwind that should
+visit only the strong heart of man!
+
+"She is dead!--dead! and in your presence!"  shouted Philip, with his
+wild eyes fixed upon the cowering uncle; "dead with--care, perhaps with
+famine.  And you have come to look upon your work!"
+
+"Indeed," said Beaufort, deprecatingly, "I have but just arrived: I did
+not know she had been ill, or in want, upon my honour.  This is all a--a
+--mistake: I--I--came in search of--of--another--"
+
+"You did not, then, come to relieve her?"  said Philip, very calmly.
+"You had not learned her suffering and distress, and flown hither in the
+hope that there was yet time to save her?  You did not do this?  Ha! ha!
+--why did I think it?"
+
+"Did any one call, gentlemen?"  said a whining voice at the door; and the
+nurse put in her head.
+
+"Yes--yes--you may come in," said Beaufort, shaking with nameless and
+cowardly apprehension; but Philip had flown to the door, and, gazing on
+the nurse, said,
+
+"She is a stranger! see, a stranger!  The son now has assumed his post.
+Begone, woman!"  And he pushed her away, and drew the bolt across the
+door.
+
+And then there looked upon him, as there had looked upon his reluctant
+companion, calm and holy, the face of the peaceful corpse.  He burst into
+tears, and fell on his knees so close to Beaufort that he touched him; he
+took up the heavy hand, and covered it with burning kisses.
+
+"Mother! mother! do not leave me! wake, smile once more on your son!
+I would have brought you money, but I could not have asked for your
+blessing, then; mother, I ask it now!"
+
+"If I had but known--if you had but written to me, my dear young
+gentleman--but my offers had been refused, and--"
+
+"Offers of a hireling's pittance to her; to her for whom my father would
+have coined his heart's blood into gold!  My father's wife!--his wife!--
+offers--"
+
+He rose suddenly, folded his arms, and facing Beaufort, with a fierce
+determined brow, said:
+
+"Mark me, you hold the wealth that I was trained from my cradle to
+consider my heritage.  I have worked with these hands for bread, and
+never complained, except to my own heart and soul.  I never hated, and
+never cursed you--robber as you were--yes, robber!  For, even were there
+no marriage save in the sight of God, neither my father, nor Nature, nor
+Heaven, meant that you should seize all, and that there should be nothing
+due to the claims of affection and blood.  He was not the less my father,
+even if the Church spoke not on my side.  Despoiler of the orphan, and
+derider of human love, you are not the less a robber though the law
+fences you round, and men call you honest!  But I did not hate you for
+this.  Now, in the presence of my dead mother--dead, far from both her
+sons--now I abhor and curse you.  You may think yourself safe when you
+quit this room-safe, and from my hatred you may be so but do not deceive
+yourself.  The curse of the widow and the orphan shall pursue--it shall
+cling to you and yours--it shall gnaw your heart in the midst of
+splendour--it shall cleave to the heritage of your son!  There shall be a
+deathbed yet, beside which you shall see the spectre of her, now so calm,
+rising for retribution from the grave!  These words--no, you never shall
+forget them--years hence they shall ring in your ears, and freeze the
+marrow of your bones!  And now begone, my father's brother--begone from
+my mother's corpse to your luxurious home!"
+
+He opened the door, and pointed to the stairs.  Beaufort, without a word,
+turned from the room and departed.  He heard the door closed and locked
+as he descended the stairs; but he did not hear the deep groans and
+vehement sobs in which the desolate orphan gave vent to the anguish which
+succeeded to the less sacred paroxysm of revenge and wrath.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Night and Morning, by Edward Bulwer Lytton
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