, 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