30, WILTON CRESCENT, August 13, 1841 I say nothing of the day we left Minto, which could not help being of that kind that one hardly dares to look back to....  We were received with great honours at Hawick—­bells ringing, flags flying, and I should think the whole population assembled to cheer us—­it is very agreeable that people should be wise enough to see his merits, particularly as he does his best to avoid all such exhibitions of popular feeling.  I like to see his shy looks on such occasions, as it gives him less right to abuse me for mine on many others.

    WILTON CRESCENT, August 14, 1841

We arrived here on Thursday evening.  Lord John did all he could to make it less strange to me; but how strange it was—­and still is.  We had a visit from Papa and Henry; my first visitors in my own house.  The children arrived from Ramsgate all well.  Oh, Father in Heaven, strengthen me in the path of righteousness that I may be a mother to these dear children.

    WILTON CRESCENT, August 15, 1841

Dear Baby a great deal with me.  She and Georgy call me Mama.  It was too much—­such a mixture of great happiness, anxiety, novelty, painful recollections, longing to make him happy—­impossibility of saying all I so deeply feel from the fear of giving him pain.  Oh!  I thought I should quite fail.

Oh, what a weight seemed to be taken off my heart when at night, after speaking about the children, he mentioned their mother.  Now I feel that the greatest bar to perfect confidence between us is removed.  God bless him for the effort.

In August, soon after the meeting of Parliament, Lord Melbourne’s Government was defeated on the Address and resigned.

    WILTON CRESCENT, August 28, 1841

Lord John dined at Lansdowne House—­a last Cabinet dinner....  Letter from the Queen to Lord John, which for a moment overcame him—­she does indeed lose a faithful adviser, and deeply does he feel it for his country and her.  Oh, I never loved him so well; his mind rises with reverse.  It is no small matter for a man whose whole soul is intent on the good of his country to be stopt in his high career—­to be, apparently at least, rejected by that country—­but no, the people are still and will be more and more with him, and his career will still be great and glorious....  And to me he has never shone so brightly as now—­so cheerful, so calm, so hopeful for the great principles for which he falls—­and yet, as that moment showed, regretting the event so deeply.

They went down to stay a few days with the Duke of Bedford, and she notes in her diary: