Three generations

DORA GREENWELL 327
works, "The Patience of Hope," "The Life of Lacor-
daire," etc., with their breadth of view and depth of
tolerance, ought not to be forgotten. She was one
of the most lovable women I ever knew, unworldly,
unassuming, humble-minded, and trustworthy. Her
father, a country gentleman, was ruined by having
become a trustee on a marriage settlement for the
unborn children of a couple who dissipated their
patrimony, so that he had to repair the loss to their
heirs after the death of the pair. When I knew Dora
Greenwell first it was on occasional visits which she
paid to her friends in Edinburgh, while her home was
with her widowed mother in the town of Durham. I
met her later at Scott's Centenary, where the chief
attraction for her was the presence of the Russian
author Turgenieff. She was several times in London,
when I was there also. On one occasion she came to
see Ristori act, and to be present at the Exeter Hall
meetings. The last time she stayed in town she lived
for several months in Great College Street, in a house
lent her by Madame Belloc.
Dora Greenwell was no longer young, and she was
already ailing from what she had been told was a
mortal disease, which in time broke her down, and
ended her life in a world from which she could be ill
spared. But nothing could exceed her patience, her
cheerfulness, and her ready interest and pleasure in
all around her. She had an old servant in her train —
mistress and maid devoted to each other. When Miss
Greenwell's publisher called on her one day he found
her reading aloud " Quentin Durward," for the enter-
tainment of the old woman, with a foot crippled by
erysipelas.
Dora Greenwell was in delicate health while still