of weariness; melancholy more often yielded to alternations of bright thoughts; and paleness had given way to a certain freshness of color, with something like roses in the cheeks.  Notwithstanding the sense of weakness in the chest, which attacked him on any sudden effort, his power of exertion was considerable.  Once, returning from a long excursion, and entering the house by the back way, up a precipitous, though not perpendicular bank, the women of the party had to be helped; and Shelley was the most active in rendering that assistance.  While others were content to accomplish the feat for one, he, I think, helped three up the bank, sliding in a half-sitting posture when he returned to fetch a new charge.  I well remember his shooting past me in a cloud of chalk-dust, as I was slowly climbing up.  He had a fit of panting after it, but he made light of the exertion.  I can also recollect, that, although he frequently preferred to steer rather than to put forth his strength, yet, if it were necessary, he would take an oar, and could stick to his seat for any time against any force of current or of wind, not only without complaining, but without being compelled to give in until the set task was accomplished, though it should involve some miles of hard pulling.  These facts indicate the amount of “grit” that lay under the outward appearance of weakness and excitable nerves.

Shelley’s fulness of vitality did not at that time seem to be shared by the partner of his life.  Mary’s intellectual powers had already been manifested.  He must to some extent have known the force of her affection, and the tenderness of her nature; but it is remarkable that her youth was not the period of her greatest beauty, and certainly at that date she did not do justice to herself either in her aspect or in the tone of her conversation.  She was singularly pale.  With a figure that needed to be set off, she was careless in her dress; and the decision of purpose which ultimately gained her the playful title of “Wilful Woman” then appeared, at least in society, principally in the negative form,—­her temper being easily crossed, and her resentments taking a somewhat querulous and peevish tone.  Both of the pair were still young, and their ideas of education were adverse to the received doctrines of the day, rather than substantive; and their own principles in this matter were exemplified somewhat perversely by little William.  Even at that early age the child called forth frequent and poignant remonstrances from his gouvernante, and occasionally drew perplexed exclamations or desponding looks from his father, who took the child’s little perversities seriously to heart, and sometimes vented his embarrassment in generalized remarks on human nature.

Some years elapsed between the night when I saw Shelley pack up his pistols—­which he allowed me to examine—­for his departure for the South, and the moment when, after our own arrival in Italy, my attention was again called to his presence by the shrill sound of his voice, as he rushed into my father’s arms, which he did with an impetuousness and a fervor scarcely to be imagined by any who did not know the intensity of his feelings and the deep nature of his affection for that friend.  I remember his crying out that he was “so inexpressibly delighted!—­you cannot think how inexpressibly happy it makes me!”