study　the　Habershons　and　the　Newtons　whose　books　they　so　much　enjoyed。　They　were　helped　by　these　guides　to　recognize　in　wild　Oriental　visions　direct　statements　regarding　Napoleon　III　and　Pope　Pius　IX　and　the　King　of　Piedmont；　historic　figures　which　they　conceived　as　foreshadowed；　in　language　which　admitted　of　plain　interpretation；　under　the　names　of　denizens　of　Babylon　and　companions　of　the　Wild　Beast。
  My　Father　was　in　the　habit　of　saying；　in　later　years；　that　no　small　element　in　his　wedded　happiness　had　been　the　fact　that　my　Mother　and　he　were　of　one　mind　in　the　interpretation　of　Sacred　Prophecy。　Looking　back；　it　appears　to　me　that　this　unusual　mental　exercise　was　almost　their　only　relaxation；　and　that　in　their　economy　it　took　the　place　which　is　taken；　in　profaner　families；　by　cards　or　the　piano。　It　was　a　distraction；　it　took　them　completely　out　of　themselves。　During　those　melancholy　weeks　at　Pimlico；　I　read　aloud　another　work　of　the　same　nature　as　those　of　Habershon　and　Jukes；　the　Horae　Apocalyptícae　of　a　Mr　Elliott。　This　was　written；　I　think；　in　a　less　disagreeable　style；　and　certainly　it　was　less　opaquely　obscure　to　me。　My　recollection　distinctly　is　that　when　my　Mother　could　endure　nothing　else；　the　arguments　of　this　book　took　her　thoughts　away　from　her　pain　and　lifted　her　spirits。　Elliott　saw　'the　queenly　arrogance　of　Popery'　everywhere；　and　believed　that　the　very　last　days　of　Babylon　the　Great　were　came。　Lest　I　say　what　may　be　thought　extravagant；　let　me　quote　what　my　Father　wrote　in　his　diary　at　the　time　of　my　Mother's　death。　He　said　that　the　thought　that　Rome　was　doomed　（as　seemed　not　impossible　in　1857）　so　affected　my　Mother　that　it　'irradiated'　her　dying　hours　with　an　assurance　that　was　like　'the　light　of　the　Morning　Star；　the　harbinger　of　the　rising　sun'。
  After　our　return　to　Islington；　there　was　a　complete　change　in　my　relation　to　my　Mother。　At　Pimlico；　I　had　been　all…important；　her　only　companion；　her　friend；　her　confidant。　But　now　that　she　was　at　home　again；　people　and　things　combined　to　separate　me　from　her。　Now；　and　for　the　first　time　in　my　life；　I　no　longer　slept　in　her　room；　no　longer　sank　to　sleep　under　her　kiss；　no　longer　saw　her　mild　eyes　smile　on　me　with　the　earliest　sunshine。　Twice　a　day；　after　breakfast　and　before　I　went　to　rest；　I　was　brought　to　her　bedside；　but　we　were　never　alone；　other　people；　sometimes　strange　people；　were　there。　We　had　no　cosy　talk；　often　she　was　too　weak　to　do　more　than　pat　my　hand；　her　loud　and　almost　constant　cough　terrified　and　harassed　me。　I　felt；　as　I　stood；　awkwardly　and　shyly；　by　her　high　bed；　that　I　had　shrunken　into　a　very　small　and　insignificant　figure；　that　she　was　floating　out　of　my　reach；　that　all　things；　but　I　knew　not　what　nor　how；　were　corning　to　an　end。　She　herself　was　not　herself；　her　head；　that　used　to　be　held　so　erect；　now　rolled　or　sank　upon　the　pillow；　the　sparkle　was　all　extinguished　from　those　bright；　dear　eyes。　I　could　not　understand　it；　I　meditated　long；　long　upon　it　all　in　my　infantile　darkness；　in　the　garret；　or　in　the　little　slip　of　a　cold　room　where　my　bed　was　now　placed；　and　a　great；　blind　anger　against　I　knew　not　what　awakened　in　my　soul。
  The　two　retreats　which　I　have　mentioned　were　now　all　that　were　left　to　me。　In　the　back…parlour　someone　from　outside　gave　me　occasional　lessons　of　a　desultory　character。　The　breakfast…room　was　often　haunted　by　visitors；　unknown　to　me　by　face　or　name；　ladies；　who　used　to　pity　me　and　even　to　pet　me；　until　I　became　nimble　in　escaping　from　their　caresses。　Everything　seemed　to　be　unfixed；　uncertain；　it　was　like　being　on　the　platform　of　a　railway…station　waiting　for　a　train。　In　all　this　time；　the　agitated；　nervous　presence　of　my　Father；　whose　pale　face　was　permanently　drawn　with　anxiety；　added　to　my　perturbation；　and　I　became　miserable；　stupid　as　if　I　had　lost　my　way　in　a　cold　fog。
  Had　I　been　older　and　more　intelligent；　of　course；　it　might　have　been　of　him　and　not　of　myself　that　I　should　have　been　thinking。　As　I　now　look　back　upon　that　tragic　time；　it　is　for　him　that　my　heart　bleeds；for　them　both；　so　singularly　fitted　as　they　were　to　support　and　cheer　one　another　in　an　existence　which　their　own　innate　and　cultivated　characteristics　had　made　little　hospitable　to　other　sources　of　comfort。　This　is　not　to　be　dwelt　on　here。　But　what　must　be　recorded　was　the　extraordinary　tranquillity；　the　serene　and　sensible　resignation；　with　which　at　length　my　parents　faced　the　awful　hour。　Language　cannot　utter　what　they　suffered；　but　there　was　no　rebellion；　no　repining；　in　their　case　even　an　atheist　might　admit　that　the　overpowering　miracle　of　grace　was　mightily　efficient。
  It　seems　almost　cruel　to　the　memory　of　their　opinions　that　the　only　words　which　rise　to　my　mind；　the　only　ones　which　seem　in　the　least　degree　adequate　to　describe　the　attitude　of　my　parents；　had　fallen　from　the　pen　of　one　whom；　in　their　want　of　imaginative　sympathy；　they　had　regarded　as　anathema。　But　John　Henry　Newman　might　have　come　from　the　contemplation　of　my　Mother's　death…bed　when　he　wrote：　'All　the　trouble　which　the　world　inflicts　upon　us；　and　which　flesh　cannot　but　feel；sorrow；　pain；　care；　bereavement；these　avail　not　to　disturb　the　tranquillity　and　the　intensity　with　which　faith　gazes　at　the　Divine　Majesty。'　It　was　'tranquillity'；　it　was　not　the　rapture　of　the　mystic。　Almost　in　the　last　hour　of　her　life；　urged　to　confess　her　'joy'　in　the　Lord；　my　Mother；　rigidly　honest；　meticulous　in　self…analysis；　as　ever；　replied：　'I　have　peace；　but　not　joy。　It　would　not　do　to　go　into　eternity　with　a　lie　in　my　mouth。'
  When　the　very　end　approached；　and　her　mind　was　growing　clouded；　she　gathered　her　strength　together　to　say　to　my　Father；　'I　shall　walk　with　Him　in　white。　Won't　you　take　your　lamb　and　walk　with　me？'　Confused　with　sorrow　and　alarm；　my　Father　failed　to　understand　her　meaning。　She　became　agitated；　and　she　repeated　two　or　three　times：　'Take　our　lamb；　and　walk　with　me！'　Then　my　Father　comprehended；　and　pressed　me　forward；　her　hand　fell　softly　upon　mine　and　she　seemed　content。　Thus　was　my　dedication；　that　had　begun　in　my　cradle；　sealed　with　the　most　solemn；　the　most　poignant　and　irresistible　insistence；　at　the　death…bed　of　the　holiest　and　purest　of　women。　But　what　a　weight；　intolerable　as　the　burden　of　Atlas；　to　lay　on　the　shoulders　of　a　little　fragile　child！
  CHAPTER　IV
  CERTAINLY　the　preceding　year；　the　seventh　of　my　life；　had　been　weighted　for　us　with　comprehensive　disaster。　I　have　not　yet　mentioned　that；　at　the　beginning　of　my　Mother's　fatal　illness；　misfortune　came　upon　her　brothers。　I　have　never　known　the　particulars　of　their　ruin；　but；　I　believe　in　consequence　of　A。's　unsuccessful　speculations；　and　of　the　fact　that　E。　had　allowed　the　use　of　his　name　as　a　surety；　both　my　uncles　were　obliged　to　fly　from　their　creditors；　and　take　refuge　in　Paris。　This　happened　just　when　our　need　was　the　sorest；　and　this；　together　with　the　poignancy　of　knowing　that　their　sister's　devoted　labours　for　them　had　been　all　in　vain；　added　to　their　unhappiness。　It　was　doubtless　also　the　reason　why；　having　left　England；　they　wrote　to　us　no　more；　carefully　concealing　from　us　even　their　address；　so　that　when　my　Mother　died；　my　Father　was　unable　to　communicate　with　them。　I　fear　that　they　fell　into　dire　distress；　before　very　long　we　learned　that　A。　had　died；　but　it　was　fifteen　years　more　before　we　heard　anything　of　E。；　whose　life　had　at　length　been　preserved　by　the　kindness　of　an　old　servant；　but　whose　mind　was　now　so　clouded　that　he　could　recollect　little　or　nothing　of　the　past；　and　soon　he　also　died。　Amiable；　gentle；　without　any　species　of　practical　ability；　they　were　quite　unfitted　to　struggle　with　the　world；　which　had　touched　them　only　to　wreck　them。
  The　flight　of　my　uncles　at　this　particular　juncture　left　me　without　a　relative　on　my　Mother's　side　at　the　time　of　her　death。　This　isolation　threw　my　Father　into　a　sad　perplexity。　His　only　obvious　source　of　incomebut　it　happened　to　be　a　remarkably　hopeful　onewas　an　engagement　to　deliver　a　long　series　of　lectures　on　marine　natural　history　throughout　the　north　and　centre　of　England。　These　lectures　were　an　entire　novelty；　nothing　like　them　had　been　offered　to　the　provincial　public　before；　and　the　fact　that　the　newly…invented　marine　aquarium　was　the　fashionable　toy　of　the　moment　added　to　their　attraction。　My　Father　was　bowed　down　by　sorrow　and　care；　but　he　was　not　broken。　His　intellectual　forces　were　at　their　height；　and　so　was　his　popularity　as　an　author。　The　lectures　were　to　begin　in　march；　my　Mother　was　buried　on　13　February。　It　seemed　at　first；　in　the　inertia　of　bereavement；　to　be　all　beyond　his　powers　to　make　the　supreme　effort；　but　the　wholesome　prick　of　need　urged　him　on。　It　was　a　question　of　paying　for　food　and　clothes；　of　keeping　a　roof　above　our　heads。　The　captain　of　a　vessel　in　a　storm　must　navigate　his　ship；　although　his　wife　lies　dead　in　the　cabin。　That　was　my　Father's　position　in　the　spring　of　1857；　he　had　to　stimulate；　instruct；　amuse　large　audiences　of　strangers；　and　seem　gay；　although　affliction　and　loneliness　had　settled　in　his　heart。　He　had　to　do　this；　or　starve。
  But　the　difficulty　still　remained。　During　these　months　what　was　to　become　of　me？　My　Father　could　not　take　me　with　him　from　hotel　to　hotel　and　from　lecture…h