Jan. 27.—The intelligence this morning was not very pleasant. I had a conference afterwards with Sir Lucas Pepys, who keeps up undiminished hope. We held our council in the physicians’ room, which chanced to be empty; but before it broke up Colonel Wellbred entered. It was a pleasure to me to see him, though somewhat an embarrassment to hear him immediately lament that we never met, and add that he knew not in what manner to procure himself that pleasure. I joined in the lamentation, and its cause, which confined us all to our cells. Sir Lucas declared my confinement menaced my health, and charged me to walk out, and take air and exercise very sedulously, if I would avoid an illness.
Colonel Wellbred instantly offered me a key of Richmond gardens, which opened into them by a nearer door than what was used in common. I accepted his kindness, and took an hour’s walk,-for the first time since last October; ten minutes in Kew gardens are all I have spent without doors since the middle of that month.
THE SEARCH FOR MR. FAIRLY.
Jan. 30.—To-day my poor royal mistress received the address of the Lords and Commons, of condolence, etc., upon his majesty’s illness. What a painful, but necessary ceremony! It was most properly presented by but few members, and those almost all chosen from the household: a great propriety.
Not long after came Mr. Fairly, looking harassed. “May I,” he cried, “come in?—and-for an hour? Can you allow me entrance and room for that time?”
Much Surprised, for already it was three o’clock, I assented: he then told me he had something to copy for her majesty, which was of the highest importance, and said he could find no quiet room in the house but mine for such a business. I gave him every accommodation in my power. When he had written a few lines, he asked if I was very busy, or could help him? Most readily I offered my services, and then I read to him the original, sentence by sentence, to facilitate his copying; receiving his assurances of my “great assistance” every two lines. In the midst of this occupation, a tap at my door made me precipitately put down the paper to receive-lady Charlotte Finch!
“Can you,” she cried, “have the goodness to tell me any thing of Mr. Fairly?”
The screen had hidden him; but, gently,—though, I believe ill enough pleased,—he called out himself, “Here is Mr. Fairly.”