The day after her arrival brought her a letter—­the first she had ever received from her husband.  How precious was every word!  How often and often did she read it over, until every line was engraven on her memory!  Then she sat down, and spent some two or three hours in replying to it.  As she sealed this first epistle to her husband, full of tender expressions, she sighed as the wish arose in her mind, involuntarily, to go with it on its journey to the village of——.

Long were the hours, and wearily passed, to Henry Gray.  It was the sixth day of trial, before Lucy’s answer came.  How dear to his heart was every word of her affectionate epistle!  Like her, he went over it so often, that every sentiment was fixed in his mind.

“Two weeks longer!  How can I bear it?” said he, rising up, and pacing the floor backward and forward, after reading her letter for the tenth time.

On the next day, the seventh of his lonely state, Mr. Gray sat down to write again to Lucy.  Several times he wrote the words, as he proceeded in the letter—­“Come home soon,”—­but often obliterated them.  He did not wish to appear over anxious for her return, on her father and mother’s account, who were much attached to her.  But forgetting this reason for not urging her early return, he had commenced again writing the words, “Come home soon,” when a pair of soft hands were suddenly placed over his eyes, by some one who had stolen softly up behind him.

“Guess my name,” said a voice, in feigned tones.

But he had no need to guess, for a sudden cry of joy from a little toddling thing, told that “Mamma” had come.

How “Mamma” was hugged and kissed all round, need not here be told.  That scene was well enough in its place, but would lose its interest in telling.  It may be imagined, however, without suffering any particular detriment, by all who have a fancy for such things.

“And father, too!” suddenly exclaimed Mr. Gray, after he had almost smothered his wife with kisses, looking up with an expression of pleasure and surprise, at an old man, who stood looking on with his good-humoured face covered with smiles.

“Yes.  I had to bring the good-for-nothing jade home,” replied the old man advancing, and grasping his son-in-law’s hand, with a hearty grip.  “She did nothing but mope and cry all the while; and I don’t care if she never comes to see us again, unless she brings you along to keep her in good humour.”

“And I never intend going alone again,” said Mrs. Gray, holding a little chubby girl to her bosom, while she kissed it over and over again, at the same time that he pressed close up to her husband’s side.