The best flowers sent me have been placed in your little vases, giving life to the remembrance of you, though not, like them, to pass away.
'Ever yours, 'A.

I.NOEL BYRON.' Shortly after, I was in England again, and had one more opportunity of resuming our personal intercourse.

The first time that I called on Lady Byron, I saw her in one of those periods of utter physical exhaustion to which she was subject on account of the constant pressure of cares beyond her strength.

All who knew her will testify, that, in a state of health which would lead most persons to become helpless absorbents of service from others, she was assuming burdens, and making outlays of her vital powers in acts of love and service, with a generosity that often reduced her to utter exhaustion.

But none who knew or loved her ever misinterpreted the coldness of those seasons of exhaustion.