Among others was Lord Llandaff, then Mr. Henry Matthews, who had many
things in common with Isabel. Owing to their lives being cast on
different lines, they only saw one another at intervals, but they
always entertained a feeling of mutual friendship. From the many
letters he wrote to her I am permitted to publish this one:
TEMPLE, December 28, 1875.
"DEAR MRS. BURTON,
"Of course I have not forgotten you. I never forget. Was it last week,
or sixteen years ago, that you were standing in this room with the
chequered sunlight shining through the Venetian blind upon you, as you
discoursed about Heaven and Grace and an attorney in the City who was
not one of the elect?
"I never knew you were in Venice this autumn, and, as it happened, it
was fortunate I did not go to Trieste to see you, since you were away.
I grieve very much to hear of your bad health. It seems to me you do too
much. The long list of occupations which you call 'repose' is enough to
wear out any constitution, even one which is so admirably knit as yours.
Don't be like the lady in Pope's satire, and 'die of nothing but a rage
to live.' There is one part of your labours, however, for which I, with
all the rest of the world, shall be thankful; and that is your new book.
I shall look for it with impatience, and feel sure of its success.
"I wish you were not going to Arabia; but I know how you understand and
fulfil the part of wife to a knight-errantry of discovery.
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