Lady S. had retired when I came home; so I enjoyed my tub of water
without either remonstrance or condolences. Cockburn's hospitality will
get the benefit and renown of my downfall, and yet has no claim to it.
In future though, I must take a coach at night--a control on one's
freedom, but it must be submitted to. I found a letter from [R.]
C[adell], giving a cheering account of things in London. Their
correspondent is getting into his strength. Three days ago I would have
been contented to buy this _consola_, as Judy says,[34] dearer than by a
dozen falls in the mud. For had the great Constable fallen, O my
countrymen, what a fall were there!

[Sidenote: _N.B._ Within eight weeks after recording this graceful act
of submission, I found I was unable to keep a carriage at all.]

Mrs. Coutts, with the Duke of St. Albans and Lady Charlotte Beauclerk,
called to take leave of us. When at Abbotsford his suit throve but
coldly. She made me, I believe, her confidant in sincerity.[35] She had
refused him twice, and decidedly. He was merely on the footing of
friendship. I urged it was akin to love. She allowed she might marry the
Duke, only she had at present not the least intention that way. Is this
frank admission more favourable for the Duke than an absolute
protestation against the possibility of such a marriage? I think not. It
is the fashion to attend Mrs. Coutts' parties and to abuse her. I have
always found her a kind, friendly woman, without either affectation or
insolence in the display of her wealth, and most willing to do good if
the means be shown to her. She can be very entertaining too, as she
speaks without scruple of her stage life. So much wealth can hardly be
enjoyed without some ostentation. But what then? If the Duke marries
her, he ensures an immense fortune; if she marries him, she has the
first rank. If he marries a woman older than himself by twenty years,