That you may grow wise
in time, and turn at length from the error of
your ways, is the earnest hope of your stepmother,
Anastasia Crawford."
"It makes me sick to read such a letter as
that, Gilbert," said Carl. "And to have that
sneak and thief--as he turned out to be--Peter,
set up as a model for me, is a little too much."
"I never knew there were such women in the
world!" returned Gilbert. "I can understand
your feelings perfectly, after my interview of
yesterday."
"She thinks even worse of you than of me,"
said Carl, with a faint smile.
"I have no doubt Peter shares her
sentiments. I didn't make many friends in your
family, it must be confessed."
"You did me a service, Gilbert, and I shall
not soon forget it."
"Where did your stepmother come from?"
asked Gilbert, thoughtfully.
"I don't know. My father met her at some
summer resort. She was staying in the same
boarding house, she and the angelic Peter. She
lost no time in setting her cap for my father,
who was doubtless reported to her as a man
of property, and she succeeded in capturing him."
"I wonder at that. She doesn't seem very fascinating."
"She made herself very agreeable to my
father, and was even affectionate in her manner
to me, though I couldn't get to like her.
The end was that she became Mrs. Crawford.
Once installed in our house, she soon threw
off the mask and showed herself in her true colors,
a cold-hearted, selfish and disagreeable woman."
"I wonder your father doesn't recognize her
for what she is.
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