“A series of little trinketty sort of business, and
occupation, and idleness, have succeeded to each other so closely that I have
been scarce able, for some three weeks past, to call my time my own for half an
hour together; but enough of apologies they are vile things, and I know you
will impute my negligence to any thing rather than forgetting or undervaluing
your friendship. You know, by this time, that we have had a visit from
Lady Byron, delightful both on its own
account, and because it was accompanied with good news and a letter from you. I
regret we could not keep her longer than a day with us, which was spent on the
banks of the Yarrow, and I hope and believe she was pleased with us, because I
am sure she will be so with every thing that is intended to please her:
meantime her visit gave me a most lawyer-like fit of the bile. I have lived too
long to be surprised at any instance of human caprice, but still it vexes me.
Now, one would suppose Lady Byron, young, beautiful, with
birth, and rank, and fortune, and taste, and high accomplishments, and
admirable good sense, qualified to have made happy one whose talents are so
high as Lord Byron’s, and whose marked
propensity it is to like those who are qualified to admire and understand his
talents; and yet it has proved otherwise. I can safely say, my heart ached for
her all the time we were together; there was so much patience and decent
resignation to a situation which must have pressed on her thoughts, that she
was to me one of the most interesting creatures I had seen for a score of
years. I am sure I
| LADY BYRON, &c.—1817. | 97 |
