She was probably so much occupied in arranging these affairs of business with her husband's lawyers that she forgot to take any step whatever about her son, the little Rawdon, and did not even once propose to go and see him. That young gentleman was consigned to the entire guardianship of his aunt and uncle, the former of whom had always possessed a great share of the child's affection. His mamma wrote him a neat letter from Boulogne, when she quitted England, in which she requested him to mind his book, and said she was going to take a Continental tour, during which she would have the pleasure of writing to him again. But she never did for a year afterwards, and not, indeed, until Sir Pitt's only boy, always sickly, died of hooping-cough and measles--then Rawdon's mamma wrote the most affectionate composition to her darling son, who was made heir of Queen's Crawley by this accident, and drawn more closely than ever to the kind lady, whose tender heart had already adopted him. Rawdon Crawley, then grown a tall, fine lad, blushed when he got the letter. "Oh, Aunt Jane, you are my mother!" he said; "and not--and not that one." But he wrote back a kind and respectful letter to Mrs. Rebecca, then living at a boarding-house at Florence. But we are advancing matters.

She was probably so much occupied in arranging this business with her husband's lawyers that she forgot to take any step whatever about her son, little Rawdon, and did not once propose to go and see him. That young gentleman was consigned to the guardianship of his aunt and uncle; he had always been very fond of his aunt Jane. His mamma wrote him a neat letter from Boulogne, in which she told him to mind his books, and said she was going to take a Continental tour, and would write to him again.
But she never did for a year, and not, indeed, until Sir Pitt's only boy, always sickly, died of whooping-cough and measles. Then Rawdon's mamma wrote the most affectionate letter to her darling son, who was made heir of Queen's Crawley by this accident.
Rawdon Crawley, then grown a tall, fine lad, blushed when he got the letter. "Oh, Aunt Jane, you are my mother!" he said; "and not - not that one." However, he wrote back a kind and respectful letter to Mrs. Rebecca, then living at a boarding-house in Florence. But we are advancing matters.
