Madame Frib.

by the immortal Gods!" The Curate could contain no more.

"O Pen," he cried, "how can you suppose that any of those--of those more than ordinary beings you have named could have an influence upon this heart, when I have been daily in the habit of contemplating perfection! I may be insane, I may be madly ambitious, I may be presumptuous--but for two years my heart has been filled by one image, and has known no other idol.

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.