dBooks desire

Pen's wrath was so great that
he could not defer expressing it. He flung Fanny's letter across the
table to his friend. "Look there, Warrington," he said; "she tended me
in my illness, she rescued me out of the jaws of death, and this is
the way they have treated the dear little creature. They have kept her
letters from me; they have treated me like a child, and her like a
dog, poor thing! My mother has done this."
"If she has, you must remember it is your mother," Warrington
interposed.
"It only makes the crime the greater, because it is she who has done
it," Pen answered. "She ought to have been the poor girl's defender,
not her enemy: she ought to go down on her knees and ask pardon of
her. I ought! I will! I am shocked at the cruelty which has been shown
her. What? She gave me her all, and this is her return! She sacrifices
every thing for me, and they spurn her."
"Hush!" said Warrington, "they can hear you from the next room."
"Hear; let them hear!" Pen cried out, only so much the louder.


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