June 17th.
Many thanks for your dear letter and kind wishes for the birth of our baby[104]—a nice little thing, like Ella, only smaller and with finer features, though the nose promises to be long. * * *
Kind Dr. Hofmeister was most attentive; and of course having him was far pleasanter than not, and we owe you great thanks for having sent him. Mrs. Clarke has been all one could wish.
Louis wrote as soon as he could, but this last week he has only been home just before his dinner, and was so tired that he invariably fell asleep. He has gone out at six, returning at twelve, and has had to be out before four in the afternoon, returning at eight. He is away again to-day. Until the 15th of September his duty will be important, and he has all the office work besides. It is double this year to what it usually is, as all people and things are new since the war.
How sad the loss of those two poor children is,[105] and the sweet little “bairnie” of three! The unfortunate mother to lose two in so dreadful a way! I am sure it touched Beatrice much to see the poor little one; and in a child death so often loses every thing that is painful.
We think of calling our little girl “Alix” (Alice they pronounce too dreadfully in German) “Helena Louise Beatrice,” and, if Beatrice may, we would much like to have her as godmother.
Darmstadt, June 24th.
* * * We both felt so truly for you when we heard of dear Dr. Macleod’s death, knowing what a kind and valued friend of yours he was, and how fate seems to take one friend after another, and before age can claim its right. He indeed deserves his rest, for he did so much good in his life!
I feel rather weaker than usual this time, and sitting and walking, though only a few steps, tries me a good deal. I was out for half an hour yesterday, and I think the air will do me good.
Louis left at half-past five this morning, and will be back by seven, I hope, this evening; to-morrow the same.