* * * You tell me to speak to you of my happiness—our happiness. You will understand the feeling which made me silent towards you, my own clear bereaved Mother, on that point; but you are unselfish and loving and can enter into my happiness, though I could never have been the first to tell you how intense it is, when it must draw the painful contrast between your past and present existence. If I say I love my dear husband, that is scarcely enough—it is a love and esteem which increases daily, hourly; which he also shows to me by such consideration, such tender loving ways. What was life before to what it has become now? There is such blessed peace being at his side, being his wife; there is such a feeling of security; and we two have a world of our own when we are together, which nothing can touch or intrude upon. My lot is indeed a blessed one; and yet what have I done to deserve that warm, ardent love, which my darling Louis ever shows me? I admire his good and noble heart more than I can say. How he loves me, you know, and he will be a good son to you. He reads to me every day out of “Westward Ho,” which I think very beautiful and interesting.
This morning I breakfasted alone, as he went out with his regiment. I always feel quite impatient until I hear his step coming up-stairs, and see his dear face when he returns.
Yesterday, and the previous night, I thought of you constantly, and of our last journey together to dear Balmoral. Sad, painful though it was, I liked so much being with you, trying to bear some of your load of sorrow with you. From here I share all as if I were really by your side; and I think so many fervent prayers cannot be offered to a merciful loving God without His sending alleviation and comfort.
Please remember me to Grant, Brown, and all of them at home in dear Scotland, and tell them how much I wish, and Louis also, that we were there, changed though every thing is.
July 25th.
* * * People say we may still have the Palais, but I doubt it. I am going to tell the Grand Duke that we return to England in autumn (not only for your sake, but principally because I do not wish to incommode our parents any longer, and because in the winter we could not even receive people here).
The only thing I shall regret in our not remaining here is, that the people feel it so much, and they are most kind; but they will see and understand that it cannot be otherwise, and that it does not arise from ill will on our part.
* * * Cecile and Michael[16] were here yesterday, so kind and so full of real sympathy toward you, which they begged me to express to you. He has such warm feelings; and they admired and loved dear Papa, though they saw him but little.
Darmstadt, August 1st.
* * * My heart feels ready to burst when I think of such sorrow as yours. I pray my adored Louis may long be spared to me. If you only knew how dear, how loving he is to me, and how he watches over me, dear darling!