Monday. August 8.
In spite of my “No I will not do so”, when I got up this morning, & found Maddox ‘going going’ I took an irrepressible fancy to be “gone” with her. But will Bummy like it? I agitated, o’connellized,[1] about, in my flannel dressing-gown,—& at last decided on feeling her pulsations on the subject. If she is against it, I wont go: & in that case my staying wont be my fault. If this shd. be the last or almost the last opportunity—how painful the thought would be, that I should myself myself [sic] have thrown it away. Went into Bummy’s room—“Bummy! shall you think me very mad if I go to Malvern today”. The answer decided me. No! I did not do so.
I have had such a hard day’s work today, that I am quite exhausted & can scarcely write. I have written a letter to Papa, read the first vol: of the Last man, which Mrs. Martin has sent me at last, —& read the whole of the 8th. book of Marcus Antoninus,—& prepared some of the Seven Chiefs for Mr Boyd,—besides hearing Storm & George read out of Homer & Zenophon. I feel nervous all over—tingling in my hands & feet—& cant write a word more.
1. Derived from Daniel O’Connell (1775–1847), energetic House of Commons agitator and champion of the Irish Catholics.