was buried in Ledbury Church by the side of the wife who had predeceased him so many years. Her father's death, and the fact that he had not even alluded to her in his will, must have been a severe blow to Mrs. Browning; but comforted by the company of her husband and child, and deeply engrossed as she now was in Italian politics, the shock would naturally be far less severe than it would have been in bygone years. Nevertheless, memories of the dear old days when she had been that father's darling, must have surged across her sensitive mind, and the thought that he had passed away without remembrance of her, must have sorely wounded her feelings, and, it is not too much to suggest, have weakened her physically as well.
For some months there is little to record of Mrs. Browning's literary history. In the summer she removed with her husband and child to Bagni di Lucca in search of a few months' rest and quietude. No sooner, however, had they arrived, than a friend was attacked with gastric fever, and for six weeks they were kept in a state of anxiety and watchfulness on his behalf. Just as the friend recovered sufficiently to get back to Florence, another and a greater trial awaited them. Their little boy Robert was attacked by the fever, and for a fortnight the Brownings were in a condition of dire suspense on his account. Writing in October to Leigh Hunt, Mrs. Browning says: "We came here from Florence a few months ago to get repose and cheerfulness from the sight of the mountains, . . . instead of which . . . we have done little but sit by sick beds, and meditate on gastric fevers. So disturbed we have been—so sad! our darling precious child the last victim. To see him
