cxlvi MEMOIR 



were strangely blended with tenderness, and when death came, 

 it came harshly to others, to him not unkindly. 



In the autumn of that same year 1875, Fleeming's father 



Jenkm's an( j mother were walking in the garden of their house at Mer- 

 illness. 



chiston, when the latter fell to the ground. It was thought at 



the time to be a stumble ; it was in all likelihood a premonitory 

 stroke of palsy. From that day, there fell upon her an abiding 

 panic fear ; that glib, superficial part of us that speaks and 

 reasons could alle^ge no cause, science itself could find no mark 

 of danger, a son's solicitude was laid at rest ; but the eyes of the 

 body saw the approach of a blow, and the consciousness of the 

 body trembled at its coming. It came in a moment; the 

 brilliant, spirited old lady leapt from her bed, raving. For 

 about six months, this stage of her disease continued with 

 many painful and many pathetic circumstances ; her husband 

 who tended her, her son who was unwearied in his visits, looked 

 for no change in her condition but the change that comes to 

 all. ' Poor mother,' I find Fleeming writing, e I cannot get 

 the tones of her voice out of my head. ... I may have to 

 bear this pain for a long time ; and so I am bearing it and 

 sparing myself whatever pain seems useless. Mercifully I do 

 sleep, I am so weary that I must sleep.' And again later : ' I 

 could do very well, if my mind did not revert to my poor mother's 

 state whenever I stop attending to matters immediately before 

 me.' And the next day : ' I can never feel a moment's pleasure 

 without having my mother's suffering recalled by the very feel- 

 ing of happiness. A pretty, young face recalls hers by contrast 

 a careworn face recalls it by association. I tell you, for I can 

 speak to no one else ; but do not suppose that I wilfully let my 

 mind dwell on sorrow.' 



In the summer of the next year, the frenzy left her ; it left 

 her stone deaf and almost entirely aphasic, but with some re- 

 mains of her old sense and courage. Stoutly she set to work 

 with dictionaries, to recover her lost tongues ; and had already 

 made notable progress, when a third stroke scattered her acqui- 

 sitions. Thenceforth, for nearly ten years, stroke followed upon 

 stroke, each still further jumbling the threads of her intelligence, 



