The last afternoon that my father lived, though with no premonition, I preferred to be with him, and invented an absence for mother, Vinnie [her sister] being asleep.
He seemed peculiarly pleased, as I oftenest stayed with myself; and remarked, as the afternoon withdrew, he “would like it to not end.”
His pleasure almost embarrassed me, and my brother coming, I suggested they walk. Next morning I woke him for the train, and saw him no more.
His heart was pure and terrible, and I think no other like it exists.
I am glad there is immortality, but would have tested it myself, before entrusting him. Mr. Bowles was with us. With that exception, I saw none. I have wished for you, since my father died, and had you an hour unengrossed, it would be almost priceless. Thank you for each kindness. ...
Later she wrote:--
When I think of my father's lonely life and lonelier death, there is this redress--
My earliest friend wrote me the week before heTake all away;
The only thing worth larceny
Is left — the immortality.
