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.