It was a long, still summer afternoon, spent alone with her in a garden, where we walked together.

She was enjoying one of those bright intervals of freedom from pain and languor, in which her spirits always rose so buoyant and youthful; and her eye brightened, and her step became elastic.
One last little incident is cherished as most expressive of her.

When it became time for me to leave, she took me in her carriage to the station.
As we were almost there, I missed my gloves, and said, 'I must have left them; but there is not time to go back.' With one of those quick, impulsive motions which were so natural to her in doing a kindness, she drew off her own and said, 'Take mine if they will serve you.' I hesitated a moment; and then the thought, that I might never see her again, came over me, and I said, 'Oh, yes! thanks.' That was the last earthly word of love between us.

But, thank God, those who love worthily never meet for the last time: there is always a future..