The Tracy tragedies, coming so close upon the other griefs, had given Mrs. Harrison’s already depleted strength a severe shock, from which she really never entirely rallied. This exhaustion, or fatigue, increased, but Mrs. Harrison would not admit being ill--“only tired.” She loved the conservatory. She had always been interested in china painting and had taken lessons in art. She spent much time there, after she began to fail, in painting orchids, the odd blossoms that appeared for the first time during her régime, and for the first time on a White House table at a diplomatic dinner. She had also started collecting relics of her predecessors. In her plans for enlarging and improving the White House, she had arranged for their display. In the spring of 1892, every member of the family save the President contracted grippe. Mrs. Harrison supervised the nursing of all, even doing a great deal of the actual work herself. Finally, she also succumbed to the malady, which left her with a serious lung trouble, and while she was pleased and proud of her husband’s renomination, she could not participate personally in the rejoicings and celebrations. She continued to fail, and early in the summer her family took her to Loon Lake, in the Adirondacks, in the hope that the change of air would create an improvement. This was a vain hope, and in October she was brought back to the White House in the last stages of the disease. Too worn and exhausted to rally, she never left her room after her return. She passed her thirty-ninth marriage anniversary with her husband at the White House five days before she died, on October 24, 1892, after eight months of suffering. She did not live to know that he was defeated by Cleveland, whom he had succeeded. Her death occurred in the same room that had been occupied by President Garfield after he had been wounded by Guiteau. The funeral was exceedingly simple and was attended only by the family, the Cabinet, the Supreme Court, and a little group of personal friends. Orchids, her favourite flower, and roses completely covered the casket. After the services, her body was taken to Indianapolis for interment. About a month later, Dr. John W. H. Scott, Mrs. Harrison’s father, died at the age of ninety-three. His funeral service was held in the East Room. Although of such advanced years, he had discharged the duties of his calling efficiently until President Harrison’s inauguration. The closing days of President Harrison’s régime were dreary. In the death of his wife, he had lost his lifetime companion, whose sweet graciousness and womanly sympathy did so much to offset his own seeming coldness and austerity. Many of Mrs. Harrison’s admirers believed that, had she lived and kept her health, he would not have failed of a second term.