r [628] (15th October 1890) to Mr. David MacRitchie, he was busy
evolving new plans, including a visit to Greece, to be made in the
company of Dr. Schliemann, [629] the archaeologist. "In the spring of
next year (Inshallah!) there will be a total disruption of my Lares and
Penates. I shall be 'retired for age,' and leave Trieste for ever with
my mental eye upon a flat in London which can be locked up at a moment's
notice when the renter wants to go abroad. Meanwhile we are off to
Athens about mid-November. All luck to the [Gypsy] Society." On the same
day he wrote to Mr. W. F. Kirby: "Excuse post-card. We have no secrets.
Please don't forget to keep me au courant of your movements in re Jan.,
&c. We shall not be in London before early September 1891, I imagine,
but then it will be for good." Elsewhere he says, almost in the words of
Ovid, "My earnest wish is somehow to depart from these regions." He was
to depart, very soon, but in a manner little expected.

Sir Richard as we have noticed, would never say "Good-bye." It was
always "Au revoir." One day in this October Miss Letchford went to see
him with her little sister. It was tea-time, but Lady Burton was
in another room with a visitor. Never had he appeared so bright or
affectionate. He laughed and joked and teased the child and would not
let them go for two hours. At last he shook hands and said, "Come and
see me again very soon. I like you and your sister.---Good-bye, Daisy."
"I was so startled," comments Miss Letchford, "by that 'Good-bye' that a
shiver passed over me. I felt at that moment that I should never see him
again." Two days later Mr. Albert Letchford called on Sir Richard, who
seemed fairly well, but he remarked "The good Switzerland did me ended
this evening."

Dr. Baker, though himself just then a great sufferer from neuralgic
headache, watched with anxious solicitude over his patient. On the
last day of his life Sir Richard seemed better than usual, and all the
household remarked his excellent spirits. It was Sunday October 29th.
After returning from mass and communion at eight in the morning Lady
Burton found him engaged upon the last page of the twentieth chapter of
The Scented Garden. [630] The work was therefore almost half done. She
kissed him, and he said, "To-morrow I shall have finished this, and then
I will begin our biography." She commented "What happiness that will
be!" Her mind, however, was not quite at ease that morning, for a bird
ha