“I did not hear her glorious voice at its supremest—that was in Hartford a month or two before the end.”
Notes of heavy regret most of them are, and self-reproach and the hopelessness of it all. In one place he records her accomplishment of speech, adding:
“And I felt like saying 'you marvelous child,' but never said it; to my sorrow I remember it now. But I come of an undemonstrative race.”
He wrote to Twichell:
But I have this consolation: that dull as I was I always knew enough
to be proud when she commended me or my work—as proud as if Livy
had done it herself—& I took it as the accolade from the hand of
genius. I see now—as Livy always saw—that she had greatness in
her, & that she herself was dimly conscious of it.
And now she is dead—& I can never tell her.
And closing a letter to Howells:
Good-by. Will healing ever come, or life have value again?
And shall we see Susy? Without doubt! without a shadow of doubt if
it can furnish opportunity to break our hearts again.
On November 26th, Thanksgiving, occurs this note:
“We did not celebrate it. Seven years ago Susy gave her play for
the first time.”
And on Christmas: