and stood by him, silently, a yard or two away, watching the carriage
out of steady black eyes. A moment later the carriage drew up at the
steps, and a couple of servants ran down to open the door.

Ralph stepped out first, a tall man like both his parents, with a face
and slow gait extraordinarily like his mother's, and dressed in the same
kind of rich splendour, with a short silver-clasped travelling cloak,
crimson hose, and plumed felt cap; and his face with its pointed black
beard had something of the same steady impassivity in it; he was
flicking the dust from his shoulder as he came up the steps on to the
terrace.

Christopher followed him, not quite so tall as the other, and a good ten
years younger, with the grey eyes of his father, and a little brown
beard beginning to sprout on his cheeks and chin.

Ralph turned at the top of the steps

"The bag," he said shortly; and then turned again to kiss his parents'
hands; as Christopher went back to the carriage, from which the priest
was just stepping out. Sir James asked his son about the journey.

"Oh, yes," he said; and then added, "Christopher was late at Begham."

"And you are well, my son?" asked his mother, as they turned to walk up
to the house.

"Oh, yes!" he said again.

Sir James waited for Christopher and Mr. Carleton, and the three