be with us much longer, poor old soul, and she herself reminded me of the country proverb, ‘A green Christmas makes a fat churchyard.’ This Christmas has certainly been the greenest that I can remember for years past, and Josiah says the same. (N.B. – The soup was not very warm at dinner last night; this must not occur again, as it makes darling Josiah very sad.)
Little Hudson, darling Edward’s eldest boy, looked so very pretty today in his blue dress and little pink ribbon shoes. As we approached Compton Bobbin down the oak avenue I said to him, with a wave of my hand, ‘This will be yours one day, my darling,’ thinking it right that he should learn his responsibilities thus early in life. He looked at me earnestly for a while, clasped together his little pink hands, and said: ‘Then I must be very, very good.’ This reminded me so much of the dear Queen who, when first told that she was in the succession to the throne, said with charming resolution, ‘I will be good.’ Heaven knows that she has kept her word.
Jan. 8th, 1878
.
Heard today from darling Edward, who left us on Tuesday in anticipation of this happy event that dearest Feodora has been brought to bed of a lovely little girl. This makes the fourth addition to their family. Heaven grant that in time they will have a quiverful. The news came by the telegraph, and as soon as I had imparted it to darling Josiah I went up to the nursery,where little Hudson, Mildred and Millicent sat at breakfast. I nodded to Mrs. Darcy, their most excellent nurse, who was made aware by this signal of the news that I had received. I then sat down next to Hudson and said: ‘Darling, the storks have brought you a little sister.’ ‘Where?’ he cried, clapping his hands in glee. ‘Does mamma know?’ At this remark Mrs. Darcy and I had great difficulty in keeping our countenances.
Jan. 16th, 1878
.
Alas, the little daughter born last week to Feodora passed away from us on Tuesday night. This dreadful news reached me yesterday morning by the telegraph, and for the rest of the day I was too much upset to write in my journal. Poor darling Edward, and poor, poor Feo, only a mother can guess at what she must be feeling now. Edward wrote me a dear note to say that he had been able to baptize the little one, which he did with the names Mary Ursula Christian Margaret, so I am thankful to think that the beloved little remains will be able to repose in sanctified ground. He tells me that dearest Feo is still very weak and most dreadfully sad, but beautifully resigned. She is allowed to sit up for a few hours every day and occupies herself embroidering a little shroud. How inscrutable are the ways of Providence, that He should give us this dear one to add brightness to our lives for a few days, only to take her from us in so short a space. I went up to the nursery as soon as I had received the news and found, as before, the three babies sitting at breakfast. Mrs. Darcy, observing my black garments, knew the worst at once. I sat down next to baby Hudson and told him that his new sister had gone to Heaven. ‘Did the storks come and fetch her away?’ he asked innocently. ‘No, my darling, it was the angels who took her away,’ I replied.
8
The next morning after breakfast, which took place punctually at the unalluring hour of half-past eight, Lady Bobbin sent for Paul. Sleepy and rather unnerved, he found his way to her study, a room which so exactly, in every respect, resembled a man’s typical smoking-room that Paul looked round for the pipe rack without which it did not seem complete. Lady Bobbin herself, dressed in a riding habit, flannel shirt and soft felt hat, looked almost human. She was one of those women who are only tidy and presentable when wearing some kind of uniform. She sat bolt upright on a hard chair and indicated another to Paul.
‘I thought, Mr. Fisher,’ she said, tapping her booted leg briskly with a riding whip, ‘that it would be a good plan if
Little Hudson, darling Edward’s eldest boy, looked so very pretty today in his blue dress and little pink ribbon shoes. As we approached Compton Bobbin down the oak avenue I said to him, with a wave of my hand, ‘This will be yours one day, my darling,’ thinking it right that he should learn his responsibilities thus early in life. He looked at me earnestly for a while, clasped together his little pink hands, and said: ‘Then I must be very, very good.’ This reminded me so much of the dear Queen who, when first told that she was in the succession to the throne, said with charming resolution, ‘I will be good.’ Heaven knows that she has kept her word.
Jan. 8th, 1878
.
Heard today from darling Edward, who left us on Tuesday in anticipation of this happy event that dearest Feodora has been brought to bed of a lovely little girl. This makes the fourth addition to their family. Heaven grant that in time they will have a quiverful. The news came by the telegraph, and as soon as I had imparted it to darling Josiah I went up to the nursery,where little Hudson, Mildred and Millicent sat at breakfast. I nodded to Mrs. Darcy, their most excellent nurse, who was made aware by this signal of the news that I had received. I then sat down next to Hudson and said: ‘Darling, the storks have brought you a little sister.’ ‘Where?’ he cried, clapping his hands in glee. ‘Does mamma know?’ At this remark Mrs. Darcy and I had great difficulty in keeping our countenances.
Jan. 16th, 1878
.
Alas, the little daughter born last week to Feodora passed away from us on Tuesday night. This dreadful news reached me yesterday morning by the telegraph, and for the rest of the day I was too much upset to write in my journal. Poor darling Edward, and poor, poor Feo, only a mother can guess at what she must be feeling now. Edward wrote me a dear note to say that he had been able to baptize the little one, which he did with the names Mary Ursula Christian Margaret, so I am thankful to think that the beloved little remains will be able to repose in sanctified ground. He tells me that dearest Feo is still very weak and most dreadfully sad, but beautifully resigned. She is allowed to sit up for a few hours every day and occupies herself embroidering a little shroud. How inscrutable are the ways of Providence, that He should give us this dear one to add brightness to our lives for a few days, only to take her from us in so short a space. I went up to the nursery as soon as I had received the news and found, as before, the three babies sitting at breakfast. Mrs. Darcy, observing my black garments, knew the worst at once. I sat down next to baby Hudson and told him that his new sister had gone to Heaven. ‘Did the storks come and fetch her away?’ he asked innocently. ‘No, my darling, it was the angels who took her away,’ I replied.
8
The next morning after breakfast, which took place punctually at the unalluring hour of half-past eight, Lady Bobbin sent for Paul. Sleepy and rather unnerved, he found his way to her study, a room which so exactly, in every respect, resembled a man’s typical smoking-room that Paul looked round for the pipe rack without which it did not seem complete. Lady Bobbin herself, dressed in a riding habit, flannel shirt and soft felt hat, looked almost human. She was one of those women who are only tidy and presentable when wearing some kind of uniform. She sat bolt upright on a hard chair and indicated another to Paul.
‘I thought, Mr. Fisher,’ she said, tapping her booted leg briskly with a riding whip, ‘that it would be a good plan if
Similar Books
