May 22.—­Charles arrived last night, much affected of course.  Anne had a return of her fainting-fits on seeing him, and again upon seeing Mr. Ramsay, the gentleman who performs the service.[271] I heard him do so with the utmost propriety for my late friend, Lady Alvanley,[272] the arrangement of whose funeral devolved upon me.  How little I could guess when, where, and with respect to whom I should next hear those solemn words.  Well, I am not apt to shrink from that which is my duty, merely because it is painful; but I wish this day over.  A kind of cloud of stupidity hangs about me, as if all were unreal that men seem to be doing and talking about.

May 23.—­About an hour before the mournful ceremony of yesterday, Walter arrived, having travelled express from Ireland on receiving the news.  He was much affected, poor fellow, and no wonder.  Poor Charlotte nursed him, and perhaps for that reason she was ever partial to him.  The whole scene floats as a sort of dream before me—­the beautiful day, the grey ruins covered and hidden among clouds of foliage and flourish, where the grave, even in the lap of beauty, lay lurking and gaped for its prey.  Then the grave looks, the hasty important bustle of men with spades and mattocks—­the train of carriages—­the coffin containing the creature that was so long the dearest on earth to me, and whom I was to consign to the very spot which in pleasure-parties we so frequently visited.  It seems still as if this could not be really so.  But it is so—­and duty to God and to my children must teach me patience.

Poor Anne has had longer fits since our arrival from Dryburgh than before, but yesterday was the crisis.  She desired to hear prayers read by Mr. Ramsay, who performed the duty in a most solemn manner.  But her strength could not carry it through.  She fainted before the service was concluded.[273]

May 24.—­Slept wretchedly, or rather waked wretchedly, all night, and was very sick and bilious in consequence, and scarce able to hold up my head with pain.  A walk, however, with my sons did me a great deal of good; indeed their society is the greatest support the world can afford me.  Their ideas of everything are so just and honourable, kind towards their sisters, and affectionate to me, that I must be grateful to God for sparing them to me, and continue to battle with the world for their sakes, if not for my own.

May 25.—­I had sound sleep to-night, and waked with little or nothing of the strange, dreamy feeling which made me for some days feel like one bewildered in a country where mist or snow has disguised those features of the landscape which are best known to him.

Walter leaves me to-day; he seems disposed to take interest in country affairs, which will be an immense resource, supposing him to tire of the army in a few years.  Charles, he and I, went up to Ashestiel to call upon the Misses Russell, who have kindly promised to see Anne on Tuesday.  This evening Walter left us, being anxious to return to his wife as well as to his regiment.  We expect he will be here early in autumn, with his household.