THOMAS CAELYLE. 367 



fourpence-halfpenny more.' He laughed heartily, pro- 

 duced the fourpence-halfpenny, which, with an air of 

 business-like gravity, I pocketed, and bade him ' Good- 

 bye.' 



Immediately after my arrival in London I called 

 upon Mrs. Carlyle. It was a bright welcome that she 

 gave me. A deep and settled happiness had taken 

 possession of her mind ; though she still could afford a 

 flash of sarcasm for one of the Edinburgh audience who 

 had visited her the day before. The glow of pride in 

 her husband was obvious enough. Not before a select 

 few, but before the world at large, he had won for him- 

 self renown, and for her choice of him, justification. 

 She wrote to him, 'I have not been so fond of everybody 

 since I was a girl.' We chatted long over the occur- 

 rences in the North, which I thought would give her 

 a new lease of happy life. Keferring to her anxiety 

 about the Address, she said she had never entertained 

 the thought of his breaking down. As long as he had 

 life there was no fear of that. But she thought it quite 

 possible that life itself might snap, and that he might 

 fall down dead before the people. It must have been 

 her lithe fingers, and her high-strung nerves, that gave 

 to the pressure of her hand an elastic intensity which I 

 have not noticed elsewhere. Such warmth of pressure 

 had been always mine. As might be surmised, it was 

 not relaxed on this occasion, when, all unconscious of 

 impending disaster, I stood up and bade her ' Good-bye.' 



I went to the Isle of Wight, which was my usual 

 refuge when tired, made Freshwater Gate my head- 

 quarters, and was refreshed as I had often been before 

 by the broad-blown, brotherly voice of Tennyson. Two 

 walks in the island have always had a special charm 

 for me ; one along ' the ridge of a noble down ' which 



