MRS. JENKIN'S ILLNESS cxlvii 



but by degrees so gradual and with such partiality of loss and of 

 survival, that her precise state was always and to the end a 

 matter of dispute. She still remembered her friends ; she still 

 loved to learn news of them upon the slate ; she still read and 

 marked the list of the subscription library ; she still took an 

 interest in the choice of a play for the theatricals, and could 

 remember and find parallel passages ; but alongside of these 

 surviving powers, were lapses as remarkable, she misbehaved like 

 a child, and a servant had to sit with her at table. To see her 

 so sitting, speaking with the tones of a deaf mute not always to 

 the purpose, and to remember what she had been, was a moving 

 appeal to all who knew her. Such was the pathos of these two old 

 people in their affliction, that even the reserve of cities was melted 

 and the neighbours vied in sympathy and kindness. Where so 

 many were more than usually helpful, it is hard to draw distinc- 

 tions ; but I am directed and I delight to mention in particular the 

 good Dr. Joseph Bell. Mr. Thomas and Mr. Archibald Constable 

 with both their wives, the Rev. Mr. Belcombe (of whose good 

 heart and taste I do not hear for the first time the news had 

 come to me by way of the Infirmary) and their next-door neigh- 

 bour, unwearied in service, Miss Hannah Mayne. Nor should I 

 omit to mention that John Ruffini continued to write to Mrs. 

 Jenkin till his own death, and the clever lady known to the 

 world as Vernon Lee until the end : a touching, a becoming 

 attention to what was only the wreck and survival of their bril- 

 liant friend. 



But he to whom this affliction brought the greatest change Captain 

 was the Captain himself. What was bitter in his lot, he bore * 

 with unshaken courage ; only once, in these ten years of trial, 

 has Mrs. Fleeming Jenkin seen him weep ; for the rest of 

 the time his wife his commanding officer, now become his 

 trying child was served not with patience alone, but with a 

 lovely happiness of temper. He had belonged all his life 

 to the ancient, formal, speech-making compliment-presenting 

 school of courtesy ; the dictates of this code partook in his eyes 

 of the nature of a duty ; and he must now be courteous for two. 

 Partly from a happy illusion, partly in a tender fraud, he kept 



