His mind turned ever to the droll. Once in London I was living with my
family at 103 Mount Street. Between 103 and 102 there was the parochial
workhouse, quite a long and imposing edifice. One evening, upon coming
in from an outing, I found a letter he had written on the sitting-room
table. He had left it with his card. He spoke of the shock he had
received upon finding that next to 102—presumably 103—was the
workhouse. He had loved me, but had always feared that I would end by
disgracing the family—being hanged or something—but the “work’us,” that
was beyond him; he had not thought it would come to that. And so on
through pages of horseplay; his relief on ascertaining the truth and
learning his mistake, his regret at not finding me at home, closing
with a dinner invitation.
It was at Geneva, Switzerland, that I received a long, overflowing
letter, full of flamboyant oddities, written from London. Two or three
hours later came a telegram. “Burn letter. Blot it from your memory.
Susie is dead.”
How much of melancholy lay hidden behind the mask of his humour it
would be hard to say. His griefs were tempered by a vein of stoicism.
He was a medley of contradictions. Unconventional to the point of
eccentricity, his sense of his proper dignity was sound and sufficient.
Though lavish in the use of money, he had a full realization of its
value and made close contracts for his work. Like Sellers, his mind
soared when it sailed financial currents. He lacked acute business
judgment in the larger things, while an excellent economist in the
lesser.
His marriage was the most brilliant stroke of his life. He got the
woman of all the world he most needed, a truly lovely and wise
helpmate, who kept him in bounds and headed him straight and right
while she lived. She was the best of housewives and mothers, and the
safest of counsellors and critics. She knew his worth; she appreciated
his genius; she understood his limitations and angles. Her death was a
grievous disaster as well as a staggering blow. He never wholly
recovered from it.