Charles Stewart Parnell: His Love Story and Political LifeO'Shea, Kitty
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Charles Stewart Parnell: His Love Story and Political Life
O'Shea, Kitty
Parnell, Charles Stewart, 1846-1891
You ask me to return it--"_his last letter_"--as I suspected. I
cannot tell you how I was valuing it, and that I intended to
place it among my most treasured souvenirs, of which I have many.
But I cannot refuse it to his suffering and heart-broken widow,
if she desires me to return it, and will do so. It consists only
of a few professional words, a patient to his doctor--nothing
more, and it is addressed by yourself--as I believe. It is not
here--I am writing at the club; but if you still ask me I cannot
hesitate an instant, and will send it to you.
Come and see me any time you are able, by and by. I will answer
any inquiries you may wish to make. I am at home (only let me
know a day beforehand, if you can) every morning from 9.30 to
12--not after, except by quite special arrangement.
With sincere sympathy, believe me, dear Mrs. Parnell, yours
truly, HENRY THOMPSON.
My husband was in great pain on the Monday, and seemed to feel a
sudden horror that he was being held down by some strong unseen
power, and asked my help--thank God, always my help--to fight against
it. He tried to get out of bed, although he was too weak to stand,
and I had to gently force him back, and cover him up, telling him how
dangerous a chill would be. He said: "Hold me tight, then, yourself,
till I can fight those others." Then he seemed to doze for a few
minutes, and when he opened his eyes again it was to ask me to lie
down beside him and put my hand in his, so that he could "feel" I was
there. I did so, and he lay still, quite happy again, and spoke of
the "sunny land" where we would go as soon as he was better. "We
will be so happy, Queenie; there are so many things happier than
politics."
{334}
He did not sleep that night, and the next morning (Tuesday) he was
very feverish, with a bright colour on his usually white face. I
wanted to send the dogs from the room, because I feared they would
disturb him, but he opened his eyes and said: "Not Grouse; let old
Grouse stay, I like him there."
His doctor said that for a day or two we could not look for much
improvement. After his medicine that afternoon he lay quietly with
his eyes closed, just smiling if I touched him. The doctor came in
again, but there was no change, and he left promising to call early
the next morning. During the evening my husband seemed to doze, and,
listening intently, I heard him mutter "the Conservative Party."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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