Parnell was always unselfish and most considerate when I was ill, and once when I was very weak after an illness of some duration he returned home to Eltham in broad daylight in a hansom cab, triumphantly supporting one end of a large couch, the other end of which spread its upholstered length over the roof. This invalid's chair he with the help of my maids, arranged in my sitting-room, adjusting its complicated "rests" with earnest abstraction, after which he led the procession up to my room, and in spite of my amused protests carried me down and placed me on the couch amid cushions and shawls, and spent a happy evening in "watching me" as I lay comfortably on my new possession.
In 1884 we ran down to Hastings for a few days in the middle of the Session, when my aunt's old friend came to stay with her and gave me freedom. Parnell delighted in these sudden "run-away" visits to the sea when the House was in full swing of business, and said they braced and freshened him up more than anything else could do. We stayed at the Queen's Hotel, and Parnell revelled in the sudden freedom from politics—casting all thought and care from him as we walked by the sea and gave ourselves up to the enjoyment of the fresh salt air.
He was hugely pleased, on going into a shop in Robertson Street for notepaper, to find some embossed with the monogram "K.P." in blue and gold. He declared it was a good omen, and bought me more boxes of it than I could use for many years. He also bought me a little red diary, after long and earnest efforts in selection. Red he did not like much, as he said it was the sanguinary hue of English oppression; but diaries can apparently only be bound in red, green, or purple, and purple was the colour of sorrow, and green the most painful expression of all ill-luck!
This diary was to make up to me for my natural indignation at, nearly, his first act on returning to me from some absence. He had gone over to the fire and caught sight of my diary, bound in green, that I had inadvertently left on the mantelpiece. With an exclamation of horror he had thrown it straight into the fire, holding me back from the rescue I struggled to attempt, and only replying to my indignant protests that he was sorry if the contents were really so valuable as I said, but anything between green covers was better burnt!
In these short visits to the seaside we always looked about for a house that Parnell could buy later on, but as he always kept a regretful eye upon Brighton, where it was inexpedient that we should be seen much together, we never really settled on one for purchase, though he rented one in Eastbourne with that idea, only to discover that a brother of his was living there. When we had a few hours to spare we had very happy times hunting round Sussex in the neighbourhood of Brighton (Brighton air did him so much good), hoping to find a suitable country house, but the train service was always a difficulty, except in the town itself.
[[1]] "The time will come," said Parnell in this speech, "when this House and the people of this country will admit that they have been deceived, and that they have been cheered by those who ought to be ashamed of themselves, that they have been led astray as to the right mode of governing a noble, a brave, a generous and an impulsive people."
[[2]] Captain O'Shea.
[[3]] On the day of Parnell's death, October 6, 1891, a new planet was discovered.
[[4]] Captain O'Shea.