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Shortly after receiving this my wife had a letter from George Eliot, from Venice, dated 15th May, 1864.  She writes from the “Hotel de Ville.”

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“MY DEAR MRS. TROLLOPE,—­I wonder whether you are likely to be at Lake Como next month, or at any other place that we could take on our way to the Alps.  It would make the prospect of our journey homeward much pleasanter if we could count on seeing you for a few hours; and I will not believe that you will think me troublesome if I send the question to you.  I am rather discontented with destiny that she has not let us see anything of you for nearly three years.  And I hope you too will not be sorry to take me by the hand again.

“My ground for supposing it not unlikely that you will be at one of the lakes, is the report I heard from Mr. Pigott, that such a plan was hovering in your mind.  My chief fear is that our return, which is not likely at the latest to be later than the middle of June, may be too early for us to find you.  We reached Venice three days ago, after a short stay at Milan, and have the delight of finding everything more beautiful than it was to us four years ago.  That is a satisfactory experience to us, who are getting old, and are afraid of the traditional loss of glory on the grass and all else, with which melancholy poets threaten us.

“Mr. Lewes says I am to say the sweetest things that can be said with propriety to you, and love to Bice, to whose memory he appeals, in spite of all the friends she has made since he had the last kiss from her.

“I too have love to send to Bice, whom I expect to see changed like a lily-bud to something more definitely promising.  Mr. Trollope, I suppose, is in England by this time, else I should say all affectionate regards from us both to him.  I am writing under difficulties.

“Ever, dear Mrs. Trollope,

“Very sincerely yours,

“M.E.  LEWES.”

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Here is another from Lewes, which the post-mark only shows to have been written in 1865:—­

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“DEAR TROLLOPE,—­Thank Signor ——­ for the offer of his paper, and express to him my regret that in the present crowded state of the Review I cannot find a place for it.  Don’t you however run away with the idea that I don t want your contributions on the same ground!  The fact is ——­’s paper is too wordy and heavy and not of sufficient interest for our publication; and as I have a great many well on hand, I am forced to be particular.  Originally my fear was lest we should not get contributors enough.  That fear has long vanished.  But good contributions are always scarce; so don’t you fail me!

“We have been at Tunbridge Wells for a fortnight’s holiday.  I was forced to ‘cave in,’ as the Yankees say—­regularly beat.  I am not very flourishing now, but I can go into harness again.  Polly has been, and alas! still is, anything but in a satisfactory state.  But she is gestating, and gestation with her is always perturbing.  I wish the book were done with all my heart.