Monday—June 20th.
Papa’s last breakfast with us until his return; therefore a sad one— He however in apparently good spirits; tho’ not very good! After breakfast I began to chew the cud of such bitter thoughts; about Papa’s going away, & about our going away,—that I was glad to begin to graze, instead, on the verbs in μι. I have learnt them & τυπτω, too perfectly for Georgie to puzzle me, as I begged him to try to do when he came to read Greek with me this morning. Felt rather triumphant—no! not rather triumphant,—afterwards. It certainly was disgraceful that I who can read Greek with some degree of fluency, should have been such & so long an ignoramus about the verbs. And besides, I have done what Mr. Boyd wished; & that is, of itself, a pleasant feeling.
Sam called up at my window between three & four, to say that Papa had come down from the farm; so I went down stairs. But we sate in the drawing room (all but Bummy) while he dined in the dining room. What was the use of taking our crying faces in to him? He came to us & kissed us before he went. “May God bless you” he said! May God bless him—dearest dearest Papa—in all temporal & spiritual blessing!
Now that the parting is over, I am very glad he is gone. It is right, & it will be consolatory, to make every effort in this unhappy business; whatever the result may be. From Bummy’s manner, I plainly see that he is not, & she is not, & we ought not to be, sanguine. But I am glad he is gone; & have now to long for him to come back!
We had not dinner today. Bummy A H & I had tea instead, at six o’clock; and afterwards we walked backwards & forwards on the bank opposite the drawing room windows. Such a lovely green evening! We sate down near the little island, & talked; & Bummy proposed that I shd. go to Malvern tomorrow. Of course I agreed! & of course I am pleased to think of going. I am going immediately after breakfast, & must be back to drink tea with them at six o clock,—& Bummy says that if I do not dine there I shall not go again. I hope Mr. Boyd will ask me to dine with him; & that Mrs. Boyd may not be arrived; & that Miss Hurd may not be there!-- There are three wishes; & every one of them as foolish as the black pudding!—[1]
Quœre. Is it civil in me to go away tomorrow when Eliza is coming here?
1. A sausage made of blood, meal and suet.
