"Let me earnestly advise you to send Mary at once," added her ladyship. "It would be a grievous pity to lose so favourable an opportunity of placing her in a satisfactory school; for good schools are, I know, rare enough." Mr Leonard accordingly made up his mind to take his daughter to Cheltenham. Mary had only time to drive over and pay a short visit to Clara. "I hope you will be happy," said Clara. "As I never was at school, I don't know what sort of life you will have to lead, but I should think with the companionship of a number of nice girls it must be very cheerful. You can never for a moment feel out of spirits for want of society, as I do too often here, now that I am unable to converse with my poor father, and you know that Aunt Sarah is not the most entertaining of persons." Mary went away in good spirits, promising to write to Clara, and tell her all about the school. Mr Lennard and his daughter arrived safely at Cheltenham, and reached Mrs Barnett's handsome mansion. Everything about it appeared to be as he could desire; the sitting-rooms were well furnished, and the bedroom his daughter was to occupy with several other girls looked remarkably comfortable, the walls being adorned with pictures, of which, however, he did not take much notice, though he saw by a glance he gave at them that they were Scripture subjects. As they were passing along a passage, the mistress hastily closed a door, but not until he observed at the farther end of the room a table, on which stood vases of flowers and candlesticks surmounted by what looked very like a crucifix; but he was too polite to interrogate Mrs Barnett on the subject, and she evidently did not intend that he should look into the room. To most of his inquiries he received satisfactory answers: the young ladies attended church regularly, and were visited and catechised periodically by a clergyman in whose judgment and piety Mrs Barnett said she had the most perfect confidence. Poor Mary threw her arms round her father's neck as he was taking his leave, and burst into tears. "I wish that I had not come, papa," she whispered. "I don't know why, but I can't bear the thoughts of parting from you." He endeavoured to comfort her, and consoled himself that he had acted for the best, though it cost him much to leave his little girl in the hands of strangers. He had another duty to perform, less trying to his feelings, however. It was to take Alfred up to Oxford. Alfred had specially requested to be allowed to go to--College, which, though not enjoying the fame of older institutions, Alfred averred that he should feel more at home at than in any other. He was duly introduced to the head of his college, where rooms were allotted to him, and forthwith matriculating, he became an undergraduate. Mr Lennard, believing that he had performed his duty, left his son to make his way as thousands of young men have had to do before him. CHAPTER THREE.