“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 bosquets of the lawn.