On Capri, Shirley grieved for her mother’s life as much as for her death: “One of her tragedies—as I do believe she had tragedy—was the inability to believe that other people appreciated her best qualities and had goodwill towards her; that she did not need to keep testing affection till it collapsed under the strain.” She wrote to Elizabeth—“You were so good—immeasurably good—to her. What was bearable in her latter life was in great part thanks to you”—and she thought long about her mother’s life and qualities:

What almost no one could know was that her trouble was more than just an exaggeration of the unleashed Mother of her own balked generation; but a real instability that was sometimes madness. Yes, I’m relieved of course that the last prolonged twilight finally ended. Most of the strongest feelings I might experience have been used up, at least for the time being, and only come in twinges. I chiefly feel—“Rest, perturbed spirit”; and the waste; and sadness when I think of childhood times when MM was clearly, as I now see, more often than not a lively and practical woman, not yet tipping her imbalances in dread directions. Reading the letters about her, I’m reminded too of what so often appeared in her life—that she could not really believe in the goodwill of others, and in her process of testing used it up, wore it down, and scared it off.