Kate will have told you, I daresay, that my despondency on coming to
town was relieved by a talk with Lady John Russell, of which you were
the subject, and in which she spoke of you with an earnestness of old
affection and regard that did me good. I date my recovery (which has
been slow) from that hour. I am still feeble, and liable to sudden
outbursts of causeless rage and demoniacal gloom, but I shall be better
presently. What a thing it is, that we can't be always innocently merry
and happy with those we like best without looking out at the back
windows of life! Well, one day perhaps--after a long night--the blinds
on that side of the house will be down for ever, and nothing left but
the bright prospect in front.
Concerning supper-toast (of which I feel bound to make some mention),
you did, as you always do, right, and exactly what was most agreeable to
me.
My love to your excellent husband (I wonder whether he and the
dining-room have got to rights yet!), and to the jolly little boys and
the calm little girl. Somehow, I shall always think of Lord Spencer as
eternally walking up and down the platform at Rugby, in a high chill
wind, with no apparent hope of a train--as I left him; and somehow I
always think of Rockingham, after coming away, as if I belonged to it
and had left a bit of my heart behind, which it is so very odd to find
wanting twenty times a day.
Ever, dear Mrs. Watson, faithfully yours, and his.
[Sidenote: The same.]