In the autumn of 1847 my mother and I went to pass the winter in Rome.  My sister Cecilia’s health had been failing; and it began to be feared that there was reason to suspect the approach of the malady which had already destroyed my brother Henry and my younger sister Emily.  It was decided therefore that she should pass the winter in Rome.  Her husband’s avocations made it impossible for him to accompany her thither, and my mother therefore took an apartment there to receive her.  It was in a small palazzo in that part of the Via delle Quattro Fontane, which is now situated between the Via Nazionale and the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore, to the left of one going towards the latter.  There was no Via Nazionale then, and the buildings which now make the Via delle Quattro Fontane a continuous line of street existed only in the case of a few isolated houses and convents.  It was a very comfortable apartment, roomy, sunny, and quiet.  The house exists still, though somewhat modernised in outward appearance, and is, I think, the second, after one going towards Santa Maria Maggiore has crossed the new Via Nazionale.

But the grand question was, whether it could be brought about that Theodosia Garrow should be permitted to be my mother’s guest during that winter.  A hint on the matter was quite sufficient for my dear mother, although I do not think that she had yet any idea that I was minded to give her a daughter-in-law.  Theodosia’s parents had certainly no faintest idea that anything more than ordinary friendship existed between me and their daughter, or, if they had had such, she would certainly have never been allowed to accept my mother’s invitation.  As for Theodosia herself and her willingness to come, it seems to me, as I look back, that nothing was said between us at all, any more than anything was said about making her my wife.  I think it was all taken for granted, sans mot dire, by both of us.  But there was one person who knew all about it; knew what was in both our hearts, and was eagerly anxious that the desire of them should be fulfilled.  This was the good fairy Harriet Fisher.  Without the strenuous exertion of her influence on her mother and Mr. Garrow, the object would hardly have been accomplished.  Of course the plea put forward was the great desirability of taking advantage of such an opportunity of seeing Rome.

My sister, whose health, alas! profited nothing by that visit to Rome, and could have been profited by no visit to any place on earth, became strongly attached to Theodosia; and the affection which grew up between them was the more to the honour of both of them, in that they were far as the poles asunder in opinions and habits of thought.  My sister was what in those days was called a “Puseyite.”  Her opinions were formed on the highest High Church model, and her Church opinions made the greatest part, and indeed nearly the whole of her life.  Theodosia had no Church opinions at all, High or Low!  All her mind and interests were, at all events at that time, turned towards poetry and art.  Subsequently she interested herself keenly in political and social questions, but had hardly at that time begun to do so.  But she made a conquest of my sister.