I shall take a Turkish bath every day I am here, and adopt other precautions. YOUR OWN LOVING KING. GRAND HOTEL, 12 BOULEVARD DES CAPUCINES, PARIS, _Saturday, April_ 15, 1882. MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--I think of leaving Paris to spend a few days in the south or elsewhere on Monday morning. Had intended starting this evening, but caught a slight cold coming over, which the doctor, whom my sister insisted on seeing me, says is nothing, but think I had best not travel till Monday. I am very glad that I came over, as my sister is in a very low state, and my coming has picked her up very much, believe me, yours always truly, CHARLES S. PARNELL. {155} GRAND HOTEL, 12 BOULEVARD DES CAPUCINES, PARIS, _Sunday, April_ 16, 1882. MY DEAR MRS. O'SHEA,--Having fallen into the hands of the doctor, he informed me to-day that he was coming again to-morrow morning, and upon my saying that I wished to commence my journey to the country to-morrow he said he would let me go on Tuesday morning. Perhaps it is better so, as I might catch fresh cold if I started so soon as to-morrow. I was out a good deal yesterday by the doctor's orders, and dined with my sister in the evening. She is much better. To-day a north wind is blowing, and I shall not go out much, although my cold is quite gone. I think I caught it from leaving off a flannel jacket which I used to wear when asleep in prison. It would have been a bad chest cold had I not taken two Turkish baths immediately I felt it coming on. I am staying here under the name of Stewart, and have not been found out yet.--Yours very sincerely, CHARLES S. PARNELL. After his nephew's funeral he returned to Eltham, having, before, telegraphed to Willie to say that he was coming. He wished to conciliate Willie as much as possible, and believed that his politics might now prove useful. All that night of the 21st April Parnell and Willie sat up in my dining-room discussing the Irish question, and bit by bit working out the "Kilmainham Treaty." Willie wanted me to join them, but I would not leave my baby, and when the daylight came and they went to lie down for a few hours' rest before Parnell left for Ireland, my little one died as my lover stole in to kiss us both and say good-bye. Overlooking the valley in the Catholic churchyard at Chislehurst is her little grave, headed by a granite cross {156} and wreathed about with clematis and white roses; and often as we drove past on our way home through the summer evenings Parnell would go in to scatter the wild flowers he had gathered for me over little Sophie's resting-place. The following letter from my sister-in-law, Mary O'Shea, I insert, as proving, I think very conclusively, that my little one's paternity was utterly unsuspected by the O'Sheas. PARIS, AVENUE WAGRAM 137, _Sunday, May_ 21, 1882.