Basswood books

Haven't I loved you as
a son, Arthur?--say, hasn't Charles Smirke loved you as a son?"
"Yes, old boy, you've been very good to me," Pen said, whose liking,
however, for his tutor was not by any means of the filial kind.
"My means," rushed on Smirke, "are at present limited, I own, and my
mother is not so liberal as might be desired; but what she has will be
mine at her death. Were she to hear of my marrying a lady of rank and
good fortune, my mother would be liberal, I am sure she would be liberal.
Whatever I have or subsequently inherit--and it's five hundred a year at
the very least--would be settled upon her and--and--and you at my death--
that is"
"What the deuce do you mean?--and what have I to do with your money?"
cried out Pen, in a puzzle.
"Arthur, Arthur!" exclaimed the other wildly; "you say I am your dearest
friend--Let me be more. Oh, can't you see that the angelic being I love--
the purest, the best of women--is no other than your dear, dear angel of
a--mother."
"My mother!" cried out Arthur, jumping up and sober in a minute.


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