'The noise and bustle may rouse little Philip,' she said to one of her maids; 'watch in the parlour till I return.'
In another moment Humphrey had grasped his brother's hand, and, turning, lifted his wife from the pillion on which she had ridden with her son.
'Mary! Mary!' and Lucy ran swiftly to meet her sister, and held her in a long embrace.
A meeting after years of separation is always mingled with joy something akin to pain, and it was not till the first excitement of this reunion was over that the joy predominated.
Mary was greatly changed; her hair was white; and on her sweet face there were many lines of suffering. Lucy led her into the parlour, and she could only sink down upon the settle by her side, and hold her hand in hers, looking with wistful earnestness into her face.
'So fair still! and happy, dearest child!' Mary whispered in a low voice. 'Happy! and content?'
'Yes,' Lucy replied proudly. 'And you, Mary, you are happy now?'
'Blest with the tender care of my husband. Yes; but, Lucy, I bring him but a poor reward for all his patient love.'
'Nay, he does not think so, I'll warrant,' Lucy said. 'You will soon be well and hearty in your native air, and the colour will come back to your cheeks and the brightness to your eyes.'
'To rival yours, dear child! Nay, you forget how time, as well as sickness and sorrow, have left its mark on me.'