All memory of vision seems to have faded from her before she left the sick-room; but, taught by those around her, she soon began to take an imaginary interest in colour, and a very real one in form and texture. An old nurse is still alive who remembers making a pink frock for her when she was a child, her delight at its being pink, and her pleasure in stroking down the folds. In 1835 or 1836 the young Princess Victoria, with her mother the Duchess of Kent, visited Oxford. Bessie was amongst those who went to "see" them enter the city. Returning home she exclaimed, "Oh, mamma, I have seen the Duchess of Kent, and she had on a brown silk dress." The language is startling; but how else could the blind child express the impression she had received except by saying "I have seen." Throughout life she continued to say, "I have seen," and throughout life the words continued to represent a reality as clear and true to the blind as the facts of sight are to those who have eyes. Very early Bessie knew the songs of birds and delighted in them. Very early also she learned to love flowers. She liked to have them described, and to hear the minutest particulars about them. Nothing made her so happy as to gather them for herself. There were fields near Hincksey which the Gilberts called "The Happy Valley." Thither they resorted in the spring with baskets to gather forget-me-nots, the flowering rush, and other blossoms, which they prized highly. In all these expeditions Bessie was happy, and a source of happiness to others. The tender and reverent way in which she examined a flower, the little fluttering fingers touching every petal and bruising none, was a lesson never to be forgotten. Her youthful admiration of Wordsworth was chiefly based upon his love of flowers, but also upon personal knowledge. When she was about ten years old, Wordsworth went to Oxford to receive the honorary degree of D.C.L. from the University. He stayed with the Principal, in that large spare room we know of, and won Bessie's heart the first day by telling at the dinner-table how he had almost leapt off the coach in Bagley Wood to gather the little blue veronica. But she had a better reason for remembering that visit. One day she was in the drawing-room alone, and Wordsworth entered. For a moment he stood silent before the blind child. The little sensitive face, with its wondering, inquiring look, turned towards him. Then he gravely said, "Madam, I hope I do not disturb you." She never forgot that "Madam," grave, solemn, almost reverential. CHAPTER II IN THE DARK "Every morn and every night Some are born to sweet delight, Some are born to sweet delight, Some are born to endless night."--BLAKE. The Gilbert children had a very happy home. In Oxford they were constantly under the eyes of parents who loved them tenderly, and loved to have them at hand. The schoolroom was between drawing-room and study, the nurseries adjacent to the parents' bedroom.