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.