I was out a good deal yesterday by the doctor's orders, and dined with my sister in the evening. She is much better.
To-day a north wind is blowing, and I shall not go out much, although my cold is quite gone. I think I caught it from leaving off a flannel jacket which I used to wear when asleep in prison. It would have been a bad chest cold had I not taken two Turkish baths immediately I felt it coming on.
I am staying here under the name of Stewart, and have not been found out yet.--Yours very sincerely,
After his nephew's funeral he returned to Eltham, having, before, telegraphed to Willie to say that he was coming. He wished to conciliate Willie as much as possible, and believed that his politics might now prove useful.
All that night of the 21st April Parnell and Willie sat up in my dining-room discussing the Irish question, and bit by bit working out the "Kilmainham Treaty." Willie wanted me to join them, but I would not leave my baby, and when the daylight came and they went to lie down for a few hours' rest before Parnell left for Ireland, my little one died as my lover stole in to kiss us both and say good-bye.
Overlooking the valley in the Catholic churchyard at Chislehurst is her little grave, headed by a granite cross { 156} and wreathed about with clematis and white roses; and often as we drove past on our way home through the summer evenings Parnell would go in to scatter the wild flowers he had gathered for me over little Sophie's resting-place.
The following letter from my sister-in-law, Mary O'Shea, I insert, as proving, I think very conclusively, that my little one's paternity was utterly unsuspected by the O'Sheas.
PARIS, AVENUE WAGRAM 137, _Sunday, May_ 21, 1882.
DEAREST KATIE,--We are very pleased to be able to hope that you are better. How is your dear aunt? We trust she is better. I cannot express our feelings of affectionate regard for her, nor can I say adequately how truly we desire her happiness here and for all eternity in Heaven. She has been so sweet a friend and so charming in all her ways towards your dear children, "the butterflies"--most attractive designation. Dear Lady O'Donnell wrote a rapturous description of the little creatures. She loved your dear little Claude, and shared your grief at losing her, but happy child, how glorious is her existence! What a contrast to ours, we who must struggle on, working out our salvation in fear and trembling!..."