" After
greeting his child, he said, "And how does mamma's little girl like her
leaving her?" "Oh, they were very glad for me to come to grandpapa, and
they sent you this kiss,--which they did of their own accord." He seemed
much pleased. It was evident that M. presented herself to him as the
mother of children, the constant theme of his wanderings. Once when his
daughter quitted the room, he said, "They are all leaving me but my
_dear_ little children." "I heard him call, one day, distinctly,
'Florence! Florence! Florence!'--again, 'My dear, dear mother!'--and to
the last he called us 'my love,' and it sounded like no other sound
ever uttered. I never heard such pathos as there was in it, and in every
tone of his voice. It gave me an idea of a love that passeth all
understanding."
[Footnote A: De Quincey, at his death, had two sons and three daughters.
The, eldest of the daughters became the wife of Robert Craig of Ireland.
It was this one, and the youngest, who were present during his last
hours.
Pages:
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359