ost a pang for her, "with its
strange mixture of longing and regret and delight," and in the midst
of it she says, "I have to exert all my strength not to lose myself in
morbidness and depression."

Early in March she leaves Rome, consoled with the thought of returning
the following winter. In June she was in England again, and spent the
summer at Malvern. Disease was no doubt already beginning to prey upon
her, for she was oppressed at times by a languor and heaviness amounting
almost to lethargy. When she returned to London, however, in September,
she felt quite well again, and started for another tour in Holland,
which she enjoyed as much as before. She then settled in Paris, to await
the time when she could return to Italy. But she was attacked at once
with grave and alarming symptoms, that betokened a fatal end to her
malady. Entirely ignorant, however, of the danger that threatened her,
she kept up courage and hope, made plans for the journey, and looked
forward to setting out at any moment. But the weeks passed and the
months also; slowly and gradually the hope faded. The journey to Italy
must be given up; she was not in condition to be brought home, and she
reluctantly resigned herself to remain where she was and "convalesce,"
as she confidently believed, in the spring. Once again came the analogy,
which she herself pointed out now, to Heine on his mattress-grave in
Paris. She, too, the last time she went out, dragged herself to the
Louvre, to the feet of the Venus, "the goddess without arms, who could
not help." Only her indomitable will and intense desire to live seemed
to keep her alive. She sunk to a very low ebb, but, as she herself
expressed it, she "seemed to have always one little window looking out
into life," and in the spring she rallied sufficiently to take a few
drives and to sit on the balcony of her apartment. She came back to
life with a feverish sort of thirst and avidity. "No such cure for
pessimism," she says, "as a severe illness; the simplest pleasures are
enough,--to breathe the air and see the sun."

Many plans were made for leaving Paris, but it was finally decided to
risk the ocean voyage and bring her home, and accordingly she sailed
July 23rd, arriving in New York on the last day of that month.

She did not rally after this; and now began her long agony, full of
every kind of suffering, mental and physical. Only her intellect seemed
kindled anew, and none but those who saw her during