ve
them; and Stella, with more of her old light-heartedness than she had
shown for a long time, hurried the preparations for her journey.

Nelly was to remain in the house with a kind, trustworthy woman during
the absence of the rest of the family at the seaside. Although she was
sorry to lose her dear Miss Lucy, she was much interested in the
circumstance that she was going to Ashleigh, and sent many grateful
messages to Mrs. Ford and Bessie. To the latter she sent a present of
a little silk necktie, bought, with great satisfaction, out of her
first wages.

Any one who has ever revisited a dearly loved home can easily imagine
Lucy's delight, when from the deck of the steamboat her straining eyes
caught the first glimpse of the white houses of Ashleigh and the grey
church on the hill; can imagine her delight at recognising the
well-known faces, and the familiar objects which, after her long
absence, seemed so strangely natural! But the happiness of being once
more among scenes so associated with early and happy recollections was
not untinged with sadness; for the vividness with which the old life
was recalled made the changes seem as vivid also, and stirred up in
all its acuteness the sense of loss, which had of late been partially
deadened by the exciting changes of her present life. Every step
called up her father's image with intense force in scenes so
interwoven with her memories of him. It was strange to see the house
which had been her home from infancy tenanted by strangers, and to
miss all the familiar faces of the home circle, whom she had almost
expected to find there still. It gave her a dreary sense of
loneliness, even in the midst of the many kind friends who were eager
to welcome back, both for her father's sake and her own, the daughter
of their beloved pastor.

Stella's highest spirits seemed to return when she found herself
driving rapidly along the road to the farm in the conveyance which
Bessie and her eldest brother--whom Lucy would scarcely have
recognised--had brought to meet them. Bessie was not much changed. Her
good-humoured face had more sweetness and earnestness of expression
than it had once worn, and her manner at home had the considerate,
half-maternal air of an eldest daughter. Mrs. Ford, too, was less
bustling, with a quiet repose about her hospitable kindliness that
gave a feeling of rest and comfort, and was the result of being less
"cumbered about much serving," and more disposed t