Out of the depths of her own loving and merciful nature, she gained such views of the divine love and mercy as made all hopes possible.

There was no soul of whose future Lady Byron despaired,--such was her boundless faith in the redeeming power of love.
After Byron's death, the life of this delicate creature--so frail in body that she seemed always hovering on the brink of the eternal world, yet so strong in spirit, and so unceasing in her various ministries of mercy--was a miracle of mingled weakness and strength.
To talk with her seemed to the writer of this sketch the nearest possible approach to talking with one of the spirits of the just made perfect.
She was gentle, artless; approachable as a little child; with ready, outflowing sympathy for the cares and sorrows and interests of all who approached her; with a naive and gentle playfulness, that adorned, without hiding, the breadth and strength of her mind; and, above all, with a clear, divining, moral discrimination; never mistaking wrong for right in the slightest shade, yet with a mercifulness that made allowance for every weakness, and pitied every sin.
There was so much of Christ in her, that to have seen her seemed to be to have drawn near to heaven.

She was one of those few whom absence cannot estrange from friends; whose mere presence in this world seems always a help to every generous thought, a strength to every good purpose, a comfort in every sorrow.
Living so near the confines of the spiritual world, she seemed already to see into it: hence the words of comfort which she addressed to a friend who had lost a son:-- 'Dear friend, remember, as long as our loved ones are in God's world, they are in ours.' * * * * * It has been thought by some friends who have read the proof-sheets of the foregoing that the author should give more specifically her authority for these statements.
The circumstances which led the writer to England at a certain time originated a friendship and correspondence with Lady Byron, which was always regarded as one of the greatest acquisitions of that visit.
On the occasion of a second visit to England, in 1856, the writer received a note from Lady Byron, indicating that she wished to have some private, confidential conversation upon important subjects, and inviting her, for that purpose, to spend a day with her at her country-seat near London, The writer went and spent a day with Lady Byron alone; and the object of the invitation was explained to her.

Lady Byron was in such a state of health, that her physicians had warned her that she had very little time to live.

She was engaged in those duties and retrospections which every thoughtful person finds necessary, when coming deliberately, and with open eyes, to the boundaries of this mortal life.
At that time, there was a cheap edition of Byron's works in contemplation, intended to bring his writings into circulation among the masses; and the pathos arising from the story of his domestic misfortunes was one great means relied on for giving it currency.
Under these circumstances, some of Lady Byron's friends had proposed the question to her, whether she had not a responsibility to society for the truth; whether she did right to allow these writings to gain influence over the popular mind by giving a silent consent to what she knew to be utter falsehoods.
Lady Byron's whole life had been passed in the most heroic self-abnegation and self-sacrifice: and she had now to consider whether one more act of self-denial was not required of her before leaving this world; namely, to declare the absolute truth, no matter at what expense to her own feelings.
For this reason, it was her desire to recount the whole history to a person of another country, and entirely out of the sphere of personal and local feelings which might be supposed to influence those in the country and station in life where the events really happened, in order that she might be helped by such a person's views in making up an opinion as to her own duty.
The interview had almost the solemnity of a death-bed avowal.