Here was a family of strangers stranded in a dull season in London, and
there was no manner of obligation upon her to exert herself to show them
attention. Her state of health would have been an all-sufficient reason
why she should not do it; and her doing it was simply a specimen of that
unselfish care for others, even down to the least detail, of which her
life was full.

A little while after, at her request, I went, with my husband and son, to
pass an evening at her house.

There were a few persons present whom she thought I should be interested
to know,--a Miss Goldsmid, daughter of Baron Goldsmid, and Lord Ockham,
her grandson, eldest son and heir of the Earl of Lovelace, to whom she
introduced my son.

I had heard much of the eccentricities of this young nobleman, and was
exceedingly struck with his personal appearance. His bodily frame was of
the order of the Farnese Hercules,--a wonderful development of physical
and muscular strength. His hands were those of a blacksmith. He was
broadly and squarely made, with a finely-shaped head, and dark eyes of
surpassing brilliancy. I have seldom seen a more interesting combination
than his whole appearance presented.

When all were engaged in talking, Lady Byron came and sat down by me, and
glancing across to Lord Ockham and my son, who were talking together, she
looked at me, and smiled. I immediately expressed my admiration of his
fine eyes and the intellectual expression of his countenance, and my
wonder at the uncommon muscular development of his frame.