“You have had trouble enough in nursing me,” she said, kindly; “and we must now try and find you a home in some pleasant, cheerful family. You must not be exposed any longer to the depressing influence of an invalid’s society.” The pleasant family was easily found. Are there not always a hundred cheerful families eager to enlarge their home-circle by the addition of an agreeable stranger? Mrs. Jerningham showed herself very particular in her choice of a home for her _protégée_; and she was not satisfied until she had discovered an irreproachable clergyman’s family, some miles northward of Harrow, who were willing to receive Miss Alford, and beneath whose roof she would have opportunities of improving herself. “But, dear Mrs. Jerningham, had I not better go to the lady in Ireland, or to some other lady who wants a governess?” remonstrated Lucy. “I ought to be getting my own living, you know. Why should I be a burden upon your kindness? If I were of any use to you, it would be different; but you will not let me be your nurse.” “My dear girl, you are no burden! It is a pleasure to me to provide in some measure for your future. I promised Mr. Desmond that I would be your friend. You must let me keep my promise, Lucy.” Of the interview which had taken place between Emily and Laurence, Lucy knew nothing. Neither did she know that there had been a listener during that never-to-be-forgotten half-hour in which Mr. Desmond had told her his secret. What her own future might be she could not imagine; and this arrangement for placing her with a clergyman’s family beyond Harrow seemed to her a generous folly upon the part of Mrs. Jerningham. She submitted only to please that lady; it would have seemed ungracious to refuse such kindness; but Lucy fancied she would have been happier if she had been permitted to renew her old struggles with fortune. “Remember you are to improve yourself, Lucy,” said Mrs. Jerningham; “I want you to become the most accomplished and ladylike of women.” And thus they kissed and parted. Emily breathed more freely when the girl had left her. That daily and hourly companionship with her happy rival had not been without its bitterness. “The poor little thing has been very good to me,” she thought; “but I cannot forget that she will be Laurence Desmond’s wife when I am lying in my grave. And the winter winds will blow among the churchyard-trees, and the pitiless rain will fall upon my grave, and those two will sit beside their fire, and watch their children at play, and he will forget that I ever lived.” Lucy went to her new home a few days before Mrs. Jerningham and her following sailed for Madeira. Between Lucy and Laurence there was no farewell. Mrs. Jerningham told Mr. Desmond what she had done for his old friend’s daughter, and he approved and thanked her; but he expressed no wish to see the young lady, or to be introduced to the family with whom she had taken up her abode.