In the beginning of August my husband told me the plan of "Marmorne" (for the "No Name Series"), and I had been afraid that it would be too melodramatic; however, I was charmed when he read me the beginning, and my fears were soon dispelled by the strength and simplicity of the narrative.
On October 4 we started for England, leaving my mother in charge of the house and children; we stopped at Fontainebleau in the morning, and after déjeuner visited the forest pretty thoroughly in a carriage. After dinner we went on to Paris, where we stayed only four days for fear of its effects, and proceeded to Calais by a night-train. Luckily for Gilbert, he could sleep very well in a railway carriage, and sea-sickness was unknown to him. We crossed in the "Castalia," in very rough weather indeed, the waves jumping over the deck, and covering everything there with foam; at one time there came a huge one dashing just against my husband's block as he was sketching, and drenched him from head to foot. However, he took a warm bath at Dover, changed his clothes, and felt only the better for the passage.
Mr. Seeley's house was reached at midnight, and very happy was Mr. Hamerton to meet his friend again, and to be once more in England after an enforced absence of seven years. On the morrow our kind host and hostess took us to Hampton Court Palace, thence to Richmond Park by Twickenham, and altogether made us pass a most pleasant day. The following day was reserved for the National Gallery, and I find this note in the diary: "I was delighted to see the Turner collection again, and greatly struck by the luminous quality of the late works. This could not possibly have been got without the white grounds."
On the Sunday we went to Balham to dine early with Mr. and Mrs. Macmillan, and met Mr. Ralston and Mr. Green, the historian. It was noted as a very interesting day by my husband.
On the sixth day we took leave of Mr. and Mrs. Seeley, and took a night-train for Peterborough, where we visited the cathedral and town to await the dusk; then on to Doncaster and Knottingly. From Knottingly we did not see clearly how to reach Featherstone, and were greatly embarrassed, when a coachman, who had just driven his master to the station, foresaw the possibility of a handsome tip, and offered to take us—without luggage—in his trap. It was pitch dark, he had no lamps, the road was all ruts, and the horse flew along like mad. We only held to our seats—or rather kept resuming them, in a succession of bumps, now on one side, now on the other, and up in the air—by grasping the sides of the trap with all our might, till a sudden stop nearly threw us all out; at any rate it did throw us in a heap over each other at the bottom of the trap—unhurt. It was with a sense of immense relief that we plodded the rest of our way to the vicarage, where we arrived at eleven. The diary says: "October 17, 1876. Saw my Aunt Susan again for the first time since 1869, at which time I hardly hoped ever to see her again."
It was a great comfort to Gilbert to witness the affectionate care taken of his aunt by her niece, Annie Hinde, and her brother Ben, with whom she lived. He had always entertained a great liking for these cousins, but it was increased during his stay at the vicarage by their hospitable and friendly ways, and by his gratitude for their having given to his dear relative as much of peaceful satisfaction as it was in their power to do. Miss Susan Hamerton was aged, no doubt, but she was still able to do everything for herself, and to occupy her time usefully in housekeeping, sewing, reading, writing, and going out. She still retained her strong will, and manifested it in a way which nearly destroyed all the pleasure of the meeting with her nephew—and would have done so, had he not yielded to it by consenting to a transfer of bank-shares (in his favor) which involved great liabilities. She would not listen to an explanation of the risk, and considered it ungracious to look the gift-horse in the mouth. "It had been a capital investment," she said, and she remained absolutely opposed to the sale of the shares. Her nephew had to accept the gift as it was—so that instead of relieving anxiety it created a new one. However, having come to give her a little of the sunshine of happiness, he decided not to let it be clouded over. We stayed a month in happy and cordial intercourse, my husband spending the intervals of work in long talks and walks with his aunt, and when the time for our departure arrived, the sadness of parting was soothed by the hope of meeting again, now that Gilbert seemed to have recovered the power of travelling.
On our return to London we lunched with Mr. Seymour Haden, who took my husband to the room in which he kept his collections, where they had a long talk on art matters, and where he gave him a proof of the "Agamemnon," whilst I was having a chat over family interests, children, and music with Mrs. Haden.
In the afternoon we called upon George Eliot and Mr. Lewes, who were very friendly indeed. I was greatly struck by George Eliot's memory, for she remembered everything I had told her—seven years ago—about our rustic life, and her first question was, "Are your children well, and do you still drive them to college in a donkey-chaise?" She was gravely sympathetic in alluding to the cause of our long absence from London, and when I said how great was my husband's satisfaction in being there again, she seized both of my hands softly in hers, and asked in the low modulations of her rich voice, "Is there no gap?" … "Thank God!" I answered, "there is none." Then she let go my hands, and smiling as if relieved she said, "Let us talk over the past years since you came;" and then she told me of the growing interest manifested by the "thinking world" in the works of my husband. "We are all marvelling at the maturity of talent in one so young still, and look forward hopefully for what he may achieve."
The day after we saw Mr. Calderon in his studio, painting two beautiful decorative pictures; there was a garland of flowers in one of them—the freshness of their coloring was admirable. We missed Mr. Woolner, who was out, and thence went to Mr. Macmillan's place of business, and with him to Knapdale, where we dined and stayed all night.
As soon as dessert had been put on the table, Mrs. Macmillan begged to be excused for a short time, as she wished to see that Mr. Freeman (who was on a visit, but not well enough to come down) had been made comfortable. On hearing of Mr. Freeman's presence at Knapdale, my husband expressed his regrets at not being able to see him, and these regrets were kindly conveyed to the invalid by Mrs. Macmillan, who brought back his request to Mr. Hamerton for a visit in his bedroom.