He called her into his room one day, and dictated
to her a list of private papers which he wished to be burned in the
event of his death, and gave her three signed documents, one of which
ran as follows:
"In the event of my death, I bequeath especially to my wife, Isabel
Burton, every book, paper, or manuscript, to be overhauled and examined
by her only, and to be dealt with entirely at her own discretion, and in
the manner she thinks best, having been my sole helper for thirty years.
(Signed) "RICHARD F. BURTON."
On September 7 they returned to Trieste together for the last time.
They were both very much better for the good air in Switzerland, and
settled down again to their quiet literary life, full of occupations
for the present and plans for the future. Lady Burton was especially
busy during these six weeks in helping her husband to sort and arrange
his manuscripts and papers, and he worked as usual at three or four
books at a time, especially his _Scented Garden_, which was now
nearing completion.
I should like to interpolate here a beautiful and characteristic letter
Lady Burton wrote, on October 10, to a friend, Madame de Gutmansthal-
Benvenuti, who had just lost her husband:
"You need no letter from me to tell you how my heart is grieving for you,
and with you, in this greatest trial woman can ever know--the trial
before which my own head is ever bowed down, and my heart shrinking from
in terror.
Pages:
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338