aty had not been sent in time for Sarti to carry out
his project of asking the great English lady to take care of his
Caterina. That was the thought which haunted his feeble brain as soon as
he began to fear that his illness would end in death. She had wealth--she
was kind--she would surely do something for the poor orphan. And so, at
last, he sent that scrap of paper which won the fulfilment of his prayer,
though he did not live to utter it. Lady Cheverel gave La Pazzini money
that the last decencies might be paid to the dead man, and carried away
Caterina, meaning to consult Sir Christopher as to what should be done
with her. Even Mrs. Sharp had been so smitten with pity by the scene she
had witnessed when she was summoned up-stairs to fetch Caterina, as to
shed a small tear, though she was not at all subject to that weakness;
indeed, she abstained from it on principle, because, as she often said,
it was known to be the worst thing in the world for the eyes.

On the way back to her hotel, Lady Cheverel turned over various projects
in her mind regarding Caterina, but at last one gained the preference
over all the rest. Why should they not take the child to England, and
bring her up there? They had been married twelve years, yet Cheverel
Manor was cheered by no children's voices, and the old house would be all
the better for a little of that music. Besides, it would be a Christian
work to train this little Papist into a good Protestant, and graft as
much English fruit as possible on the Italian stem.

Sir Christopher listened to this plan with hearty acquiescence. He loved
children, and took at once to the little black-eyed monkey--his name for
Caterina all through her short life. But neither he nor Lady Cheverel had
any idea of adopting her as their daughter, and giving her their own rank
in life. They were much too English and aristocratic to think of anything
so romantic. No! the child would be brought up at Cheverel Manor as a
protegee, to be ultimately useful, perhaps, in sorting worsteds, keeping
accounts, reading aloud, and otherwise supplying the place of spectacles
when her ladyship's eyes should wax dim.

So Mrs. Sharp had to procure new clothes, to replace the linen cap,
flowered frock, and leathern boots; and now, strange to say, little
Caterina, who had suffered many unconscious evils in her existence of
thirty moons, first began to know conscious troubles. 'Ignorance,' says
Ajax, 'is a painless evil;' so,