all not
forget, Mr. Scott had asked me to dine that day at his more cheerful
house; but I reflected that this was to be my first Christmas in London
and it might be Rossetti's last, so I put by pleasanter considerations.
We dined alone, but, somewhat later, William Rossetti, with true
brotherly affection, left the guests at his own house, and ran down
to spend an hour with the invalid. We could hear from time to time the
ringing of the bells of the neighbouring churches, and I noticed that
Rossetti was not disturbed by them as he had been formerly. Indeed, the
drug once removed, he was in every sense a changed man. He talked that
night brightly, and with more force and incisiveness, I thought, than he
had displayed for months. There was the ring of affection in his tone as
he said he had always had loyal friends; and then he spoke with feeling
of Mr. Watts's friendship, of Mr. Shields's, and afterwards he spoke of
Mr. Burne Jones who had just previously visited him, as well as of Mr.
Madox Brown, and his friendship of a lifetime; of Mr. Swinburne, Mr.
Morris, Mr. Stephens, Mr. Boyce, and other early friends. He said a word
or two of myself which I shall not repeat, and then spoke with emotion
of his mother and sister, and of his sister who was dead, and how they
were supported through their sore trials by religious resignation. He
asked if I, like Shields, was a believer, and seemed altogether in a
softer and more spiritual mood than I remember to have noticed before.

With such talk we passed the Christmas night of 1881. Rossetti recovered
power in some measure, was able to get down to the studio, and see the
friends who called--Mr. F. E. Leyland frequently, Lord and Lady Mount
Temple, Mrs. Sumner, Mr. Boyce, Mr. F. G. Stephens, Mr. Gilchrist, Mr.
and Mrs. Virtue Tebbs, Mrs. Stillman, Mrs. Coronio, and Mr. C. and Mr.
A. Ionides occasionally, as well as those previously named. A visit
from Dr. Hueffer of the _Times_ (of whose gifts he had a high opinion),
enlivened him perceptibly. But he did not recover, and at the end of
January 1882 it was definitely determined that he should go to the
sea-side. I was asked to accompany him, and did so. At the right
juncture Mr. J. P. Seddon very hospitably tendered the use of his
handsome bungalow at Birchington-on-Sea, a little watering-place four
miles west of Margate. There we spent nine weeks. At first going out he
was able to take short walks on the cliffs, or round the road tha