Lucy 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 had been gained.  The desire to go, however, remaining strong, it was finally settled that the visit should be paid.  So all the preparations were entered upon, 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 required all his efforts to conceal.  As for Lucy, when the moment of separation 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 up a show of indifference, all the while that her heart was fluttering.  The “good-bye” was finally said, the driver cracked his whip, and off rolled the stage.  Gray turned homewards with a dull, lonely feeling, and Lucy drew her veil 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 of 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 aces of her parents, whom she tenderly loved, was lot strong enough to subdue and keep in concealment, except for a very short period at a time, her earning 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.

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, that she could only go with it 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.