"It's only Robert," she wrote, "who is a patriot now, of us two." English soil as they stepped ashore was a puddle, and English air a fog.

London lodgings were taken at 26 Devonshire Street, and, although Mrs.Browning suffered from the climate, they were soon dizzied and dazzled by the whirl of pleasant hospitalities.

An evening with Carlyle ("one of the greatest sights in England"), a dinner given by Forster at Thames Ditton, "in sight of the swans," a breakfast with Rogers, daily visits of Barry Cornwall, cordial companionship of Mrs.Jameson, a performance by the Literary Guild actors, a reading of _Hamlet_ by Fanny Kemble--with these distractions and such as these the two months flew quickly.

It was in some ways a relief when Pen's faithful maid Wilson went for a fortnight to see her kinsfolk, and Mrs.Browning had to take her place and substitute for social racketing domestic cares.

The one central sorrow remained and in some respects was intensified.