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?”