“Yes, my child;” and, turning to Frank, she added, “Since you are determined to adopt the ministry as a profession, it is but right that we should for the future entrust ourselves to your prayers.”

The two families were now located in their respective eyries; and Jack, whilst escorting the Wolstons to the foot of their tree, said to Sophia,

“I thought the chimpanzee had been playing some prank.”

“So he has.  Has nobody told you of it?”

“No, not a soul.”

“Then I will be as discreet as my neighbors; good night, Master Jack.”

CHAPTER XIII.

HERBERT AND CECILIA—­THE LITTLE ANGELS—­A CATASTROPHE—­THE DEPARTURE—­MARRIAGE OF THE DOGE WITH THE ADRIATIC—­SOVEREIGNS OF THE SEA—­DANTE AND BEATRIX—­ELEONORA AND TASSO—­LAURA AND PETRARCH—­THE RETURN—­SURPRISES—­WHAT ONE FINDS IN TURBOTS—­A HORROR—­THE PRICE OF CRIME—­BALLOONING—­PHILIPSON AND THE CHOLERA—­A METAMORPHOSIS—­ADVENTURE OF THE CHIMPANZEE—­ARE YOU RICH?

Next day the sky was shrouded in dense masses of cloud, some grey as lead, some livid as copper, and some black as ink.  Towards evening the two families, as usual, resolved themselves into a talking party, and Wolston, requesting them to listen, began as follows:—­

“There were two rich merchants in Bristol, between whom a very close intimacy had for a long time existed.  One of them, whom I shall call Henry Foster, had a daughter; and the other, Nicholas Philipson, had a son, and the two fathers had destined these children for one another.  The boy was a little older than the girl, and their tastes, habits, and dispositions seemed to fit them admirably for each other, and so to ratify the decision of the parents.  Little Herbert and Cecilia were almost constantly together.  They had a purse in common, into which they put all the pieces of bright gold they received as presents on birthdays and other festive occasions.  In summer, when the two families retired to a retreat that one of them had in the country, the children were permitted to visit the cottagers, and to assist the distressed, if they chose, out of their own funds—­a permission which they availed themselves of so liberally that they were called by the country people the two little angels.”

“What a pity there are no poor people here!” said Sophia, dolefully.

“Why?” inquired her mother.

“Because we might assist them, mamma.”

“It is much better, however, as it is, my child; our assistance might mitigate the evils of poverty, but might not be sufficient to remove them.”

This reasoning did not seem conclusive to Sophia, who shook her head and commenced plying her wheel with redoubled energy.