Mitford's grave. She found a young man standing there whom she did
not know. 'Don't you know me?' said he; 'I am Henry, ma'am. I have
just come back from Australia.' He was one of the children of the
couple who had lived in the cottage, and his first visit on his
return from abroad had been to the tomb of his old protectress.

I also heard a friend who knew Miss Mitford in her latest days,
describe going to see her within a very few months of her death; she
was still bright and responding as ever, though very ill. The young
visitor had herself been laid up and absent from the invalid's
bedside for some time. They talked over many things,--an authoress
among the rest, concerning whose power of writing a book Miss
Mitford seems to have been very doubtful. After her visitor was
gone, the sick woman wrote one of her delicate pretty little notes
and despatched it with its tiny seal (there it is still unbroken,
with its M. R. M. just as she stamped it), and this is the little
letter:--

Thank you, dearest Miss . . . for once again showing me your fair
face by the side of the dear, dear friend [Lady Russell] for whose
goodness I have neither thanks nor words. To the end of my life I
shall go on sinning and repenting. Heartily sorry have I been ever
since you went away to have spoken so unkindly to Mrs . . . .
Heaven forgive me for it, and send her a happier conclusion to her
life than the beginning might warrant. If you have an idle lover,
my dear, present over to him my sermon, for those were words of
worth.

God bless you all! Ever, most faithfully and affectionately yours,
M. R. MITFORD.