"Then the prayer book Francie [Footnote: Lady Horner, of Mells.] gave me is what I love next, and I love it so much I feel I would like to take it with me. Margot wants a prayer book, so I leave it to her. It is so dirty outside, but perhaps it would be a pity to bind it. Margot is to have my darling little Daily Light, too.
"Then Charty is to have my paste necklace she likes, and any two prints she cares to have, and my little trefeuille diamond brooch —oh! and the Hope she painted for me. I love it very much, and my amethyst beads.
"Little Barbara is to have my blue watch, and Tommy my watch— there is no chain.
"Then Lucy is to have my Frances belt, because a long time ago the happiest days of my girlhood were when we first got to know Francie, and she wore that belt in the blue days at St. Moritz when we met her at church and I became her lover; and I want Lucy to have my two Blakes and the dear little Martin Schongaun Madonna and Baby—dear little potbellied baby, sucking his little sacred thumb in a garden with a beautiful wall and a little pigeon-house turret. I bought it myself, and do rather think it was clever of me—all for a pound.
"And Posie is to have my little diamond wreaths, and she must leave them to Joan, [Footnote: My niece, Mrs. Jamie Lindsay.] and she is to have my garnets too, because she used to like them, and my Imitation and Marcus Aurelius.
"I leave Eddy my little diamond necklace for his wife, and he must choose a book.
"And Frank is just going to be married, so I would like him to have some bit of my furniture, and his wife my little silver clock.
"I leave Jack the little turquoise ring Graham gave me. He must have it made into a stud.
"Then I want Lavinia [Footnote: Lavinia Talbot is wife of the present Bishop of Winchester] to have my bagful of silver dressing-things Papa gave me, and the little diamond and sapphire bangle I am so fond of; and tell her what a joy it has been to know her, and that the little open window has let in many sunrises on my married life. She will understand.
"Then I want old Lucy [Footnote: Lady Frederick Cavendish, whose husband was murdered in Ireland] to have my edition of the "Pilgrim's Progress," that dear old one, and my photograph in the silver frame of Alfred, if my baby dies too, otherwise it is to belong to him (or her). Lucy was Alfred's little proxy-mother, and she deserves him. He sent the photograph to me the first week we were engaged, and I have carried it about ever since. I don't think it very good. It always frightened me a little; it is so stern and just, and the 'just man' has never been a hero of mine. I love Alfred when he is what he is to me, and I don't feel that is just, but generous.