“I hardly know what to say to that. There is a difference between us.” “He doesn’t seem like a Roman father--one who rules his family with a rod of iron.” “No; he is quite the reverse. He hasn’t backbone enough.” “So it seemed to me when I saw him at the exhibition of the academy. You ought to be able to get along with a father like that, Carl.” “So I could but for one thing.” “What is that?” “I have a stepmother!” said Carl, with a significant glance at his companion. “So have I, but she is the soul of kindness, and makes our home the dearest place in the world.” “Are there such stepmothers? I shouldn’t have judged so from my own experience.” “I think I love her as much as if she were my own mother.” “You are lucky,” said Carl, sighing. “Tell me about yours.” “She was married to my father five years ago. Up to the time of her marriage I thought her amiable and sweet-tempered. But soon after the wedding she threw off the mask, and made it clear that she disliked me. One reason is that she has a son of her own about my age, a mean, sneaking fellow, who is the apple of her eye. She has been jealous of me, and tried to supplant me in the affection of my father, wishing Peter to be the favored son.” “How has she succeeded?” “I don’t think my father feels any love for Peter, but through my stepmother’s influence he generally fares better than I do.” “Why wasn’t he sent to school with you?” “Because he is lazy and doesn’t like study. Besides, his mother prefers to have him at home. During my absence she worked upon my father, by telling all sorts of malicious stories about me, till he became estranged from me, and little by little Peter has usurped my place as the favorite.” “Why didn’t you deny the stories?” asked Gilbert. “I did, but no credit was given to my denials. My stepmother was continually poisoning my father’s mind against me.” “Did you give her cause? Did you behave disrespectfully to her?” “No,” answered Carl, warmly. “I was prepared to give her a warm welcome, and treat her as a friend, but my advances were so coldly received that my heart was chilled.” “Poor Carl! How long has this been so?” “From the beginning--ever since Mrs. Crawford came into the house.” “What are your relations with your step-brother--what’s his name?” “Peter Cook. I despise the boy, for he is mean, and tyrannical where he dares to be.” “I don’t think it would be safe for him to bully you, Carl.” “He tried it, and got a good thrashing. You can imagine what followed. He ran, crying to his mother, and his version of the story was believed. I was confined to my room for a week, and forced to live on bread and water.” “I shouldn’t think your father was a man to inflict such a punishment.” “It wasn’t he--it was my stepmother. She insisted upon it, and he yielded. I heard afterwards from one of the servants that he wanted me released at the end of twenty-four hours, but she would not consent.” “How long ago was this?”