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'