“Oh, certainly,” was answered, although the tone in which the words were uttered had in it something of reluctance.  “It would be selfish in me to say no.  Your father and mother will be delighted receive a visit just now.”

“And you think that you and Ellen can get along with little Lucy?”

“Oh yes, very well.”

“I should like to go so much.”

“Go, then, by all means.”

“But won’t you be very lonesome without me?” suggested Lucy, in whose own bosom a feeling of loneliness was already beginning to be felt at the bare idea of a separation from her husband.

“I can stand it as long as you,” was Gray’s laughing reply to this.  “And then I shall have our dear little Lucy.”

Mrs. Gray laughed in return, but did not feel as happy at the idea of “going home” as she thought she would be before her husband’s consent was gained.  The desire to go, however, remaining strong, it was finally settled that the visit should take place.  So all the preparations were made, and in the course of a week Henry Gray saw his wife take her seat in the stage, with a feeling of regret at parting which it required all his efforts to conceal.  As for Lucy, when the time came, she regretted ever having thought of going without her husband and child; but she was ashamed to let her real feelings be known.  So she kept on a show of indifference, all the while that her heart was fluttering.  The “good-bye” finally said, the driver cracked his whip, and off rolled the stage.  Gray turned homeward with a dull, lonely feeling, and Lucy drew her vail over her face to conceal the unbidden tears from her fellow-passengers.

That night, poor Mr. Gray slept but little.  How could he?  His Lucy was absent, and for the first time, from his side.  On the. next morning, as he could think of nothing but his wife, he sat down and wrote to her, telling her how lost and lonely he felt, and how much little Lucy missed her, but still to try and enjoy herself, and by all means to write him a letter by return mail.

As for Mrs. Gray, during her journey of two whole days, she cried fully half the time, and when she got “home” at last, that is, at her father’s, she looked the picture of distress, rather than the daughter full of joy at meeting her parents.

Right glad were the old people to see their dear child, but grieved at the same time, and a little hurt too, at her weakness and evident regret at having left her husband, to make them a brief visit.  The real pleasure that Lucy felt at once more seeing the faces of her parents, whom she tenderly loved, was not strong enough to subdue and keep in concealment, except for a very short period at a time, her yearning desire again to be with her husband, for whom she never before experienced a feeling of such deep and earnest affection.  Several times during the first day of her visit, did her mother find, her in tears, which she would quickly dash aside, and then endeavour to smile and seem cheerful.