. . . What weather we have! What shall we do about it? The 17th October and summer still! Henry is not quite well--a bilious attack with fever. He came back early from Henrietta Street yesterday and went to bed--the comical consequence of which was that Mr. Seymour and I dined together _tete-a-tete_. He is calomeling, and therefore in a way to be better, and I hope may be well to-morrow. * * * * * _Wednesday._--Henry's illness is much more serious than I expected. He has been in bed since three o'clock on Monday. It is a fever--something bilious but chiefly inflammatory. I am not alarmed, but I have determined to send this letter to-day by the post, that you may know how things are going on. There is no chance of his being able to leave Town on Saturday. I asked Mr. Haden[298] that question to-day. Mr. H. is the apothecary from the corner of Sloane Street, successor to Mr. Smith, a very young man, said to be clever, and he is certainly very attentive, and appears hitherto to have understood the complaint. * * * * * As for myself, you may be sure I shall return as soon as I can. Tuesday is in my brain, but you will feel the uncertainty of it. * * * * * You must fancy Henry in the backroom upstairs, and I am generally there also, working or writing. Even in illness, the interests of _Emma_ were not neglected; and a day or two later Henry was able to dictate the following letter to Mr. Murray:--