Sometimes when he was going to speak I could not leave my aunt long enough to be sure of getting to the Ladies' Gallery in time to hear him; or we might think it inexpedient that I should be seen to arrive so soon after him at the House. On these occasions, when I was able, I would arrive perhaps in the middle of his speech and look down upon him, saying in my heart, "I have come!"; and invariably I would see the answering signal—the lift of the head and lingering touch of the white rose in his coat, which told me, "I know, my Queen!"
This telepathy of the soul, intuition, or what you will, was so strong between us that, whatever the business before the House, whether Parnell was speaking or not, in spite of the absolute impossibility of distinguishing any face or form behind the grille of the Ladies' Gallery, Parnell was aware of my presence, even though often he did not expect me, as soon as I came in, and answered my wordless message by the signal that I knew.
Sometimes he would wish to speak to me before I went home, and would signal by certain manipulations of his handkerchief to me to go and await him at Charing Cross, or another of our meeting-places, and there he would come to me to tell me how things were going, or to chat for a few minutes, or get from me the replies to messages sent through me to Mr. Gladstone.
* * * * * *
DOVER,
Wednesday, February 23, 1881.
MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,—Am just starting for Calais.
Kindly send on my portmanteau with my letters and other things in my room or in the wardrobe to me at Hotel Brighton, Rue de Rivoli, Paris.—Yours always, C. S. P.
February 25, 1881.
MY DEAREST KATIE,—I have just received your three letters, and am so delighted to read them hurriedly before sending you this line in time for post.
I never had the slightest doubt of my darling, and cannot imagine why she should think so.