February 3rd, 19—.—It is thawing. There are marks of boots across the lawn on what is left of the snow, and I am afraid some one must have gone across it. I wish Reuben would come back. Called at Mrs. Burpham’s, who is in dreadful trouble. Algernon has gone up to town to see his solicitor. Poor Mrs. Burpham was crying; she is so proud of her boy. He says it will be all right. They are very bitter against the Bank, and Sir Henry, and the regiment, and the Monsons. I fear they may quarrel with Binston Park[14] also. Mrs. Burpham was so curious about them; Jane is no better.
February 4th, 19—.—Reuben came home suddenly by the 2.40 with Mr. Ehrenbreitstein and Lord Tenterworth. He asked me to put Mr. Ehrenbreitstein in the Blue room and Lord Tenterworth in the Parrot room opposite the broom and pail place, where Aunt Marjory used to sleep. I shall have to clear the clothes out of the drawers. Just before dinner Mr. Bischoffen came in from the station. Reuben told me he had asked him. I wish he would give me longer notice. He brought a secretary with him who cannot talk English. I think he must be a Spaniard—he is so dark. Jane can hardly speak, her throat is so bad; I told her she might stay in bed to-morrow till nine.
February 5th, 19—.—Mrs. Burpham is certainly in dreadful trouble. She tells me Algernon has written from St. Malo saying it will be all right. It was very foolish and imprudent of him to go over there just now with all this trouble on with France. If only he had stayed at home (Mrs. Burpham says) she would not have minded so much, but she is afraid of his getting killed. It seems they are so savage at St. Malo.[15] Only the other day an English lady had a stone thrown in her direction in the street. Mr. Bischoffen’s secretary is not a Spaniard; I think he is a Pole; his name is Brahms. There was a difficulty about the asparagus last night. It seems the Germans do not eat it with their fingers. Reuben said I ought to have got little silver pincers for it. I remember seeing them in his father’s house, but papa said they were very vulgar. Then Reuben used to apologise for them, and say that his people were old fashioned, which was nonsense, of course. I reminded Reuben of this, and he said, “Ach! Gott!” and I had to leave the room. Ali Baba is all right; he took a piece of sugar from my hand; but when I felt his hock he kicked Jones severely. I fear Jones is really injured, and I have sent for Dr. Minton and for the veterinary surgeon.
February 6th, 19—.—Dr. Minton dined here last night before going to set Jones’ leg, and I gave the veterinary surgeon supper in the old schoolroom. I am afraid Dr. Minton took too much wine, for he quarrelled with Mr. Ehrenbreitstein and Mr. Bischoffen about the danger of war with France. He said they had no right to speak, and got quite excited. Called again on Mrs. Burpham, and only appreciated fully to-day in what sad trouble she is. Algernon has telegraphed from Paris saying it will be all right. Meanwhile she has certainly quarrelled with Binston Park, and she even spoke bitterly against the Duke, so that means another family gone—for the Duke is very proud. I see in the Standard that our Ambassador has delivered an ultimatum, and that the French are doing all they can to shirk war. That is what Mr. Bischoffen and Reuben said they would do, but they must be taught a lesson. Newfoundlands have fallen, but Reuben says they must rise after the war. I do hope they will. The dear Bishop called. He says this war is a judgment on the French. Jane is much better, and can talk quite clearly, and Ali Baba is almost well. Also it has thawed now completely, and they can meet on Saturday as usual, so things are looking up all round.
February 7th, 19—.—Freddie goes to the Isle of Wight with the Lambtonshire Regiment, and Mrs. Burpham and the Bishop are both delighted, because it will bring him and Hepworth together. It would be such a solace to poor Mrs. Burpham if Freddie could see active service and get promotion; it would help to wipe out Algernon’s disgrace, for I fear there is now no doubt of it, though he says it is all right in his last letter, which is from Marseilles. Letters still come through from France, because our Ambassador said that if any tricks were played with them he would hold the French Government personally responsible, and so cowed them. The Bishop has gone to London with his family.
February 8th, 19—.—The Standard has a large map of the North of France, where the fighting will be. It is very interesting. Reuben and his friends have gone up to town again. I saw the Reserves marching through Molesworth to-day; they are going to garrison Portsmouth.[16] The afternoon post did not come in. Reuben said he would telegraph, but I have not got any message. The 12.40 train was an hour late, so I suppose everything is upset by the war. Maria will have to come home by Bâle, and I do so dread the passage from Ostend for her; even the hour from Calais to Dover is more than she can bear. The vicar says that our Government will force the French to keep the Dover-Calais route open for civilians. He says it would be against the practice of civilised warfare to close it, and if that were done we should lay waste the whole country; but I fear he does not know much about the legal aspect of the thing: it is his heart, not his head that speaks. It is dreadful to think what I shall do with Mademoiselle[17] when she comes home with Maria. One can’t blame her when one thinks that it is her own country that is going to be harried and her own brothers brought here as prisoners; but it will be very difficult all the same. The man who was killed at Bigley races was not a Frenchman after all: the crowd only thought he was because he had blacked his face like a negro. It seems that Sir Henry was very hard in court, and said that the ringleaders were lucky not to be indicted for manslaughter. It has frozen again, and it is very slippery in the drive. They are having fireworks or something at Portsmouth, to judge by the sound. Jones told Jane he thought there was a bonfire as well, because he could see a glare now and then in the sky from the window in his room. His leg is setting nicely.
ON REVELATIONS.