somewhat distant and diplomatic, soon ripened into mutual feelings of
cordial regard.

[Sidenote: Arrival of Baron Gros.]

_October 18th._--The instructions brought by the last mail give me
much greater latitude of action; in fact, untie my hands altogether. I
hope I shall get Baron Gros to go with me; but if not, I shall go at
Canton alone. The Admiral is quite ready for the attempt, as soon as
his marines arrive.

[Sidenote: A sister's death.]

_October 30th._--How little was I prepared for the sad intelligence
brought to me by your last![8] How constantly we shall all feel the
absence of that good genius!--that Providence always on the watch to
soothe the wretched and to console the afflicted. I had never thought
of her early removal by death; and yet one ought to have done so, for
she complained much of suffering last year, and all who knew her well
must have felt that to make her complain her sufferings must have been
great. She is gone; and she will leave behind her a blank in many
existences.... Many years ago we were much together. She was then in
the full vigour of her faculties.... I had ample opportunity then of
appreciating the remarkable union of heart and head and soul which her
character presented. Many of her letters written in those days were of
rare excellence.... I feel for you.

_October 31st._--I shall hardly recognise Scotland without her, so
much did she, in her unobtrusive and quiet way, make herself the point
to which, in all difficulties and joys, one looked.... Poor Maxwell
has the satisfaction of knowing that all that was great and lovable in
her flourished under his protection and with his sympathy. Perhaps
that is the best consolation which a person bereaved as he is can
enjoy. It is not a consolation which will arrest his progress along
the path which she has trodden before, but it is one which will strew
it with flowers.... Already, when this letter reaches you, the green
weeds will have begun to creep over the new-made grave, and the crust
of habit to cover wounds which at first bled most freely. It is also a
soothing reflection that hers was a life of which death is rather the
crown than the close; so that it will not be in gloom, but in the soft
sunset light of memory that they who have been wont to walk with her,
and are now deprived of her companions