first we had seen since we came to the isle, and no one could tell when the next might come. My wife and I did not wish to leave. I had a love for the kind of life we led and we were both at an age when ease and rest should take the place of toil. But then our sons were young—not yet in the prime of life—and I did not think it right that we should keep them from the world. Jane, I could tell, would not stay with us, nor did she hide from us the fact that her heart drew her to the dear one at home, from whom she had been kept so long. So I told my wife that I would ask my boys to choose what they would do—to stay with us on the isle, or leave with Cap-tain Stone in the ship.
Fritz and Jack said they would not leave us; Ernest spoke not a word, but I saw that he had made up his mind to go. I did not grieve at this, as I felt our isle was too small for the scope of his mind, and did not give him the means to learn all he could wish. I told him to speak out, when he said he should like to leave the place for a few years, and he knew Frank had a wish to go with him.
I thought this would give my wife pain, but she said that the boys had made a good choice, and that she knew Ernest and Frank would make their way in the world.
Captain Stone gave Jane,
