busily engaged in his literary projects with
Mr Dallas, and in law affairs with his agent, he was suddenly
summoned to Newstead by the state of his mother's health: before he
had reached the Abbey she had breathed her last. The event deeply
affected him; he had not seen her since his return, and a
presentiment possessed her when they parted, that she was never to
see him again.

Notwithstanding her violent temper and other unseemly conduct, her
affection for him had been so fond and dear, that he undoubtedly
returned it with unaffected sincerity; and from many casual and
incidental expressions which I have heard him employ concerning her,
I am persuaded that his filial love was not at any time even of an
ordinary kind. During her life he might feel uneasy respecting her,
apprehensive on account of her ungovernable passions and
indiscretions, but the manner in which he lamented her death, clearly
proves that the integrity of his affection had never been impaired.

On the night after his arrival at the Abbey, the waiting-woman of Mrs
Byron, in passing the door of the room where the corpse lay, heard
the sound of some one sighing heavily within, and on entering found
his Lordship sitting in the dark beside the bed. She remonstrated
with him for so giving way to grief, when he burst into tears, and
exclaimed, "I had but one friend in the world, and she is gone." Of
the fervency of his sorrow I do therefore think there can be no
doubt; the very endeavour which he made to conceal it by
indifference, was a proof of its depth and anguish, though he
hazarded the strictures of the world by the indecorum of his conduct
on the occasion of the funeral. Having declined to follow the
remains himself, he stood looking from the hall door at the
procession, till the whole had moved away; and then, turning to one
of the servants, the only person left, he desired him to fetch the
sparring-gloves, and proceeded with him to his usual exercise. But
the scene was impressive, and spoke eloquently of a grieved heart; he
sparred in silence all the time, and the servant thought that he hit
harder than was his habit: at last he suddenly flung away the gloves
and retired to his own room.

As soon as the funeral was over the publication of Childe Harold was
resumed, but it went slowly through the press. In the meantime, an
incident occurred to him which deserves to be noted--because it is
one of the most remarkable in his life, and has