prospect was often anxious. In the days of his courtship, Fleeming
had written to Miss Austin a dissuasive picture of the trials of
poverty, assuring her these were no figments but truly bitter to
support; he told her this, he wrote, beforehand, so that when the
pinch came and she suffered, she should not be disappointed in
herself nor tempted to doubt her own magnanimity: a letter of
admirable wisdom and solicitude. But now that the trouble came, he
bore it very lightly. It was his principle, as he once prettily
expressed it, 'to enjoy each day's happiness, as it arises, like
birds or children.' His optimism, if driven out at the door, would
come in again by the window; if it found nothing but blackness in
the present, would hit upon some ground of consolation in the
future or the past. And his courage and energy were indefatigable.
In the year 1863, soon after the birth of their first son, they
moved into a cottage at Claygate near Esher; and about this time,
under manifold troubles both of money and health, I find him
writing from abroad: 'The country will give us, please God, health
and strength. I will love and cherish you more than ever, you
shall go where you wish, you shall receive whom you wish - and as
for money you shall have that too. I cannot be mistaken. I have
now measured myself with many men. I do not feel weak, I do not
feel that I shall fail. In many things I have succeeded, and I
will in this. And meanwhile the time of waiting, which, please
Heaven, shall not be long, shall also not be so bitter. Well,
well, I promise much, and do not know at this moment how you and
the dear child are. If he is but better, courage, my girl, for I
see light.'

This cottage at Claygate stood just without the village, well
surrounded with trees and commanding a pleasant view. A piece of