was to be retained, and Charles, perfectly qualified for the business, was left to conduct it. After much deliberation, decision, and reconsideration, it was settled that Lucy should remain in the city—this was strenuously urged by Charles, and rather favoured by herself. A place had offered at Mrs. Hartell's, where she might earn, with very light labour, seven dollars a month. This money would enable her to put some favourite plans for Jemmie into execution, "and any time, if she chose," as Charles said and reiterated, lest the argument should not prevail, "she might go to her mother." "Well, my children," said Mrs. Lovett, at the conclusion of their deliberations, "if one must stay, I had rather the other should too. You will be a brother to Lucy, Charles, and you will be a sister to him, Lucy?" They both promised. Did the thought of ever being anything nearer enter their young hearts? We shall see.
We are obliged to omit some of the most interesting scenes in Lucy's life—the parting from the Lovetts and her closing, for the last time, those doors, that, as she turned their bolts, she thought had never been closed against any claim to hospitality or kindness of any sort, and the first depression of her mercury at the chill atmosphere of a new service-place.
She went to Mrs. Hartell's in the morning, and, on inquiring for the lady, was told she was never visible till eleven; but that she could see "Miss Adéle." Miss Adéle proved to be the nurse, a Frenchwoman of a certain age, who lost no time in acquainting Lucy with the duties of her new place and its advantages. Her inaugural discourse
