Macaulay’s book has unbounded success.[547] Not a copy to be had, and everybody satisfied that _their_ copy is _the_ cleverest book in the world. Don’t tell anybody, but I can’t read it--not the fault of the book, but I can’t take the trouble, and had rather leave it till I can enjoy it, if that time ever comes. Good-bye, dearest Theresa. Love to Mrs. V. When do you come to town? How goes on your book?[548] Yours affectionately, E. E. CHAPTER XIV 1849-1863 _Miss Eden to Lady Campbell._ EDEN LODGE, KENSINGTON GORE, _Tuesday evening, 1849_. MY OWN DEAREST PAM, I hear to-day that you too are bereaved of what was most dear to you;[549] and it has roused me to write, for if any one has a right to feel for and with you, through my old, deep, unchanged affection, early ties, association in happy days, and now through calamity,--it is I. Dearest, how kindly you wrote to me in my first bitter hours,[550] when I hardly understood what comfort could mean, and yet, your warm affection did seem to comfort me, and I wish I could now say to you anything that could help you. You have children, to love and to tend, and yet again, they may be fresh sources of anxiety. I have heard nothing but that there was a long previous illness; and though you may have had the anxiety of much watching, still I think that it is better than a sudden rending of the ties of life.... We came here Friday, but I have not been able to go out of my own room. This reminds me of you as well as of him. Your ever affectionate E. E. _Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis._ EDEN LODGE, _Saturday, December 1849_. Thank you very much, my dear old friend, for thinking of me and my sorrows in the midst of all your gladsome family, and your happy Christmas. I earnestly hope and trust you will have many as happy, and even more so as your children grow up around you, and become what you have tried to make them. The paper-knife is beautiful, and if it were not so I should have been pleased at your thinking of me; and considering how long I have tried the patience of my friends, it is marvellous how little it has failed. It was a twelvemonth yesterday since he left me to go to the Grange. I had got out of bed and was settled on the sofa, that he might go off with a cheerful impression of me, and we had our luncheon together; and he came in again in his fine cloak to say good-bye, and I thought how well he was looking. And that was the close of a long life of intense affection. I do not know why I should feel additionally sad as these anniversaries come round, for I never think less or more on the subject on any day. It is always there. But still this week is so burnt in on my mind that I seem to be living it all dreamily over again. I wish at all events to be able to keep (however cold and crushed I feel myself) the power of entering into the happiness of others, and I like to think of you, dear Theresa.... Your ever affectionate E. E. _Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis._