I see her with her loving heart full of emotion kissing my father.

I see her in the ballroom, the most graceful figure present.
I remember how every half-hour she came to speak to me and see if I were happy, and once, when she thought I was warm and tired, she took my hand and led me into the beautiful cool conservatory, where we sat and talked until I had grown cool again.

I see her talking with queenly grace and laughing eyes, no one forgotten or neglected, partners found for the least attractive girls, while the sunshine of her presence was everywhere.

She led a cotillion.

I remember seeing her stand waiting the signal, the very type of grace and beauty.
Oh, my darling, if I were with you! As I saw her then I never saw her more.
I was present the next morning when my father and mother discussed the ball.
"How well you looked, Beatrice," said my father.
"How well I felt," she replied.