“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 become 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.