I nearly burst into tears, not at this proposal, but at the evident manner in which the thought of our child suggested only small difficulties and worries to his mind. "To Bristol! to Bath!" I exclaimed, "and you speak as if you intended leaving me there alone! But Eustace, why should not our child be born in your house and mine?" I felt my eyes blaze with long pent up impatience. "Because, my dear little Penelope," he answered coldly and sharply, "it is the custom of _your country and mine_ that ladies of your condition should have every advantage of medical skill and attendance, and therefore remove to town for such purpose." "Would it not be worth while to break through such a habit," I asked, "to have a physician here at the proper time? Besides," I added, "I promised, and in your presence, that should this event ever take place, I should send for my mother." "I shall be delighted," he answered, always in the same tone, "if my mother-in-law finds it worth while to make so great a journey as that from Switzerland to Bath--for Bath is the more suitable place, upon consideration. But seeing that, as I have twice said before, you will have every care you may require, I really think the suggestion would be a mere indiscretion--to all parties." He was busy arranging the instruments in his laboratory. I should have left him; but I felt my heart swell and overflow, and remained standing by him in silence. "It is too cold for you here," he said very tenderly after a moment, "had you not better go back to your rooms?" I could not answer. But after a moment, "Eustace, Eustace!" I cried, "don't you care? Aren't you glad? Why do you talk only of plans and difficulties? Why do you want to send me away, to leave me all alone when our child is born?" He gave a sigh, partly of impatience. "Do not let us discuss this again, dear Penelope," he said, "and oblige me by not talking nonsense. Of course I am glad; it goes without saying. And if I send you away--if I deprive myself of the joy of being with you, believe me, it is because I cannot help it. My presence is required here. And now," he added, putting his arm round my waist, but with small genuine tenderness, methought, "now let us have done with this subject, my dear, and do me the kindness to return to your warm room." O God, O God, take pity on my loneliness! For with the dearest of mothers, and what was once the kindest of husbands, and the joy of this coming child, I am surely the loneliest of women! _February_ 27, 1773.