She rose hastily, for a busy time was before her. On the previous night she had not done any packing, and very soon after breakfast she was to start on her homeward journey.
When she left her room, only the maids were astir. So she crept downstairs to the quiet rooms, and began to collect her possessions, which in a month's visit had become scattered about—her music, her work-basket, her easel and paint-box.
She carried an armful into the dining room and began to sort the music out, till, unconscious of time, she fell into a reverie over the words of one of the songs, and started violently when she heard herself addressed in an astonished tone by her aunt's housekeeper—
"Why, Miss Lucia, to be sure, miss, I thought something must have happened to see you sitting there all alone at this time of day! I was passing along the garden, going to feed my chickens, when I caught sight of your head, and heard your pretty voice singing more like the angels than anything else, to be sure!"
"Oh, Mrs. Brown, something has happened," exclaimed Lucia ruefully; "I am going home!"
"Deary miss, I heard something of it last night," responded the housekeeper in her cheery way; "and I was so very sorry for the cause of it, I'm sure." "Yes—," said Lucia slowly, "so am I, awfully sorry; but I cannot help wishing it had come at any other time—"
Mrs. Brown paused a moment, and then she said gently, "The Lord's time is always the right time, dear Miss Lucia—"
Lucia raised her eyes and looked into the placid face.
"I was so happy here," she murmured.
She turned over the songs, and as the words caught her eyes, they filled with tears.