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 {86} 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 {87} wore it with an air of defiance, when bringing in tea, on New Year's Day.