and affectionate to me.  They brought news that Harry Siddons had arrived in India and been sent off to Delhi.  My brother Henry, poor child, came and lay on the sofa in my room, and we cried together almost through the whole afternoon, in spite of our efforts to comfort each other.  My heart dies away when I think of my dear father....  I got a very kind and affectionate letter from Lady Francis; she wants us very much to go again to Oatlands.  After all, perhaps it would not be so sad there as I think, though it must appear changed enough in some respects, if not in all.  Everything is winter now, within and without me; and when I was last there it was summer, in my heart and over all the earth.  My cedar palace is there still, and to that I should bring more change than I should find.  Poor Undine! how often I think of that true story.  When I went to the theater my heart really sickened at my work; my eyes smarted, and my voice was broken, with my whole day’s crying.  The house seemed good; I played ill, and felt very ill.  Lord M——­ was in the stage-box, which annoyed me.  I hate to have my society acquaintance close to me while I am acting.  The play was “Venice Preserved.”  After I came home I saw my father, who is a little better; but now Henry is quite unwell, and I am in a high fever—­I suppose with all this wretchedness and exertion.

Thursday, 13th.—­My father has passed a quieter night, thank God.  I went to Fozzard’s riding-school with John, and tried a hot little hunter that they want to persuade Lady Chesterfield to ride—­a very pretty creature, but quite too eager for the school.  While I was riding Lady Grey came in, very much frightened, upon her horse, which was rather fresh.  She took Gazelle, which I was riding, and I rode her horse tame for her.  It is very odd that, riding as well as she does, she should be so miserably nervous on horseback....  I drove to Mrs. Mayo’s, who impressed and affected me very much.  Those magnificent eyes of hers are becoming dim; she is growing blind, with eyes like dark suns.  I could not help expressing the deep concern I felt for such a calamity.  She replied that doubtless it was a trial, but that she saw many others afflicted with dispensations so much heavier than her own, that she was content.  To grow blind contentedly is to be very brave and good, and I admired and loved her even more than I did before.  When I came home, I went and sat with my father.  He has decided that we shall not go to Oatlands, and I am hardly sorry for it.

Friday, 14th.—­Went over my part for to-night....  Victoire came with me to the theater instead of Dall, whose whole time is taken up attending on my father.  The house was bad, and I thought I acted very ill, though Victoire and John, who was in the front, said I did not.  Henry Greville was in the boxes, and to my surprise went from them to the pit, though I ought not to have been surprised, for,