“In my sorrow for your waywardness, I am comforted by the thought that Peter is too good and conscientious ever to follow your example. While you are away, he will do his utmost to make up to your father for his disappointment in you. 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.” “She is very artful, and is politic enough to treat him well. She has lost no opportunity of prejudicing him against me. If he were not an invalid she would find her task more difficult.” “Did she have any property when your father married her?” “Not that I have been able to discover. She is scheming to have my father leave the lion’s share of his property to her and Peter. I dare say she will succeed.” “Let us hope your father will live till you are a young man, at least, and better able to cope with her.” “I earnestly hope so.” “Your father is not an old man.” “He is fifty-one, but he is not strong. I believe he has liver complaint. At any rate, I know that when, at my stepmother’s instigation, he applied to an insurance company to insure his life for her benefit, the application was rejected.” “You don’t know anything of Mrs. Crawford’s antecedents?” “No.” “What was her name before she married your father?” “She was a Mrs. Cook. That, as you know, is Peter’s name.” “Perhaps, in your travels, you may learn something of her history.” “I should like to do so.” “You won’t leave us to-morrow?” “I must go to-day. I know now that I must depend wholly upon my own exertions, and I must get to work as soon as possible.”