Mr. Parnell was then still feeling ill and run down, and enjoyed his fortnight's absolute rest in this room. None of the servants knew that he was there, and I took all his food up at night, cooking little dainty dishes for him at the open fire, much to his pleasure and amusement. He spent the time very happily, resting, writing "seditious" speeches for future use, and reading "Alice in Wonderland." This book was a favourite of his, and I gave it to him with the solemnity that befitted his grave reading of it. I do not think he ever thought it in the least amusing, but he would read it earnestly from cover to cover, and, without a smile, remark that it was a "curious book."
In all this fortnight no one had the least idea that he was in the house, and the only comment I ever heard upon my prisoner's diet was that "the mistress ate much more when she had her meals served in her sitting-room."
At the end of this fortnight he had arranged to go to Paris on some Land League business, and wanted me to go to see him off. He had brought certain political correspondence from Avondale and London and placed it in my charge, and this I kept in a box in this little private room, where I hid them. But there were two papers that he did not wish left even here, and, fearing arrest, could not carry on him. For these he had a wide, hollow gold bracelet made in Paris, and after inserting the papers he screwed the bracelet safely on my arm; there it remained for three years, and was then unscrewed by him and the contents destroyed.
The winter of 1880 was terribly cold, and as I let him out of the house in the bitterly cold morning I wished he did not consider it necessary to go to Paris by such a roundabout route as he had chosen.
However, we drove off to Lewisham that morning, quite unobserved; from thence we went by train to New Cross, and drove by cab to London Bridge. At Vauxhall we started for Lowestoft; for Mr. Parnell had arranged to go to Paris via Harwich. I was anxious about him, for the cold was intense, and the deep snow over the large dreary waste of salt marshes seemed reflected in his pallor. Our train slowly passed through the dreary tract of country, feet deep in its white covering, and we could see no sign of life but an occasional seagull vainly seeking for food, and sending a weird call through the lonely silences.
I wrapped Parnell up in his rugs as he tried to sleep. I loathed the great white expanse that made him look so ill, and I wished I had him at home again, where I could better fight the great fear that so often beset my heart: that I could not long keep off the death that hovered near him. A lady and gentleman in the carriage remarked to me—thinking he slept—that my husband looked terribly ill, could they do anything? And I noticed the little smile of content that flitted over his face as he heard me briskly reply that, No, he had been ill, but was so much better and stronger that I was not at all uneasy. It was the cold glare of the snow that made him look so delicate, but he was really quite strong. He hated to be thought ill, and did not see the doubt in their faces at my reply.
Arrived at Lowestoft I insisted upon his resting and having a good meal, after which he felt so cheered up that he decided to return to London with me, and go to Paris by the usual route the next day!
We had a new Irish cook at this time, from County Tipperary, and her joy exceeded all bounds when she learnt that the Irish leader was really in the house and she was to cook for him. I had to ask Mr. Parnell to see her for a moment, as she was too excited to settle to her cooking. Directly she got into the room Ellen fell down on her knees and kissed his hands, much to his horror, for, although used to such homage in Ireland, he disliked it extremely, and he told me with some reproach that he had expected to be quite free from that sort of thing in my house.
At Christmas he tipped my servants generously, and indeed Ellen and the parlourmaid Mary vied with each other in their attention to his comfort. The enthusiasm of the cook was so great that she bought an enormous gold locket, and, having inserted a portrait of Mr. Parnell in it, wore it constantly. Mary, not to be outdone, thereupon bought a locket of identically the same design, and wore it with an air of defiance, when bringing in tea, on New Year's Day.
This was against all regulations, and I said laughingly to Mr. Parnell that he was introducing lawlessness into my household. He answered, "Leave it to me," and when Mary appeared again he said gently to her, "Mary, that is a magnificent locket, and I see you are kind enough to wear my portrait in it. Mrs. O'Shea tells me that Ellen has bought one also, but I just want you and Ellen not to wear them outside like that, for Mrs. O'Shea lets me come down here for a rest, and if people know I'm here I shall be worried to death with politics and people calling." So Mary promised faithfully, and Ellen came running in to promise too, and to threaten vengeance on "the others" if absolute silence was not observed. The lockets went "inside," and only a tiny bit of chain was allowed to show at the throat in evidence of homage continued, though hidden.