ressed no sympathy or anxiety, he would not look upon its face.
He died as he lived, unrelenting, cut off by his own unbending anger
from a daughter who could with difficulty bring herself to speak a
harsh word of him, even to her most intimate friends.

It was a more unexpected and consequently an even more bitter blow to
find that her brothers at first disapproved of her action; the
more so, since they had sympathised with her in the struggle of the
previous autumn. This disapprobation was, however, less deep-seated,
resting partly upon doubts as to the practical prudence of the match,
partly, no doubt, upon a natural annoyance at having been kept in the
dark. Such an estrangement could only be temporary, and as time went
on was replaced by a full renewal of the old affection towards herself
and a friendly acceptance of her husband. With her sisters, on the
other hand, there was never a shadow of difference or estrangement.
That love remained unaffected; and almost the only circumstance that
caused Mrs. Browning to regret her enforced absence from England was
the separation which it entailed from her two sisters.

In Paris the fugitives found a friend who proved a friend indeed. A
few weeks earlier Mrs. Jameson, knowing of the needs of Miss Barrett's
health, had offered to take her to Italy; but her offer had been
refused. Her astonishment may be imagined when, after this short
interval of time, she found her invalid friend in Paris as the wife of
Robert Browning. The prospect filled her with almost as much dismay as
pleasure. 'I have here,' she wrote to a friend from Paris, 'a poet
and a poetess--two celebrities who have run away and married under
circumstances peculiarly interesting, and such as to render imprudence
the height of prudence. Both excellent; but God help them! for I know
not how the two poet heads and poet hearts will get on through this
prosaic world.'[144] Mrs. Jameson, who was travelling with her young
niece, Miss Geraldine Bate,[145] lent her aid to smooth the path of
her poet friends, and it was in her company that, after a week's rest
in Paris, the Brownings proceeded on their journey to Italy. It is
easy to imagine what a comfort her presence must have been to the
invalid wife and her naturally anxious husband; and this journey
sealed a friendship of no ordinary depth and warmth. Mrs. Browning
bore the journey wonderfully, though suffering much from fatigue.
During a rest of two days at Avignon