The day was fine, and after breakfast Burton took his usual two hours’ walk with Dr. Baker.  On the way out through the garden he noticed a robin drowning in the basin of a fountain.[FN#631] At his request Dr. Baker rescued it, and Burton, opening his coat and vest—­for he never wore a waistcoat—­warmed the bird at his breast, and then carried it to the house to be cared for by the porter.  The incident carries us back to those old days at Tours, when, as a boy, he often laid himself out to revive unfortunate birds and small beasts.  In the afternoon he wrote some letters and discussed gaily the proposed visit to Greece.  They dined at half-past seven, and talked and laughed as usual, though Burton seemed tired.  As usual, too, he shocked his wife by jesting about scapularies and other sacred things, but the conversation ran chiefly on General Booth’s scheme for relieving the Submerged Tenth; and Burton, who entered into the subject with zest, observed:  “When you and I get to England and are quite free we will give our spare time to that."[FN#632]

In the course of the day Mrs. Victoria Maylor came in with the manuscript of The Scented Garden and the copy of it which she had made for the printers,[FN#633] and from this we may deduce that Sir Richard intended to go to press at once with the first twenty chapters of the work.  He may have intended to publish the twenty-first chapter later as a second volume.  At half-past nine he retired to his bedroom.  Lady Burton then repeated “the night prayers to him,” and while she was speaking “a dog,” to use her own words, “began that dreadful howl which the superstitious regard as the harbinger of death.”

After prayers, Burton asked for “chou-chou;” she game him a paper-covered copy in two volumes of the Martyrdom of Madeline[FN#634] by Robert Buchanan, and he lay in bed reading it.  At midnight he complained of pain in his foot, but said he believed it was only a return of the gout—­the “healthy gout,” which troubled him about every three months.

“Let me call Dr. Baker,” said Lady Burton.

“No,” replied Sir Richard, “don’t disturb him poor fellow, he has been in frightful pain with his head; and has at last got a little sleep.”

At four, however, Lady Burton paid no heed to her husband’s remonstrances, but called up Dr. Baker, who, however, saw no cause for alarm, and after administering some medicine he returned to bed.  Half an hour later Burton complained that there was no air, and Lady Burton, again thoroughly alarmed, rose to call in Dr. Baker once more.

Although Burton was then dying, he said, “Poor chap, don’t disturb him.”

But Lady Burton instantly summoned Dr. Baker, who on entering pronounced the situation grave.  Lady Burton at once roused the servants and sent in all directions for a priest; while, assisted by Dr. Baker and Lisa, she “tried every remedy and restorative,” but in vain.

“Oh, Puss,” cried Burton, “chloroform—­ether—­quick!”