Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not....
Oh, the poetry of it, the ageless beauty!
Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken....
Her voice was grave, like a boy's, and yet how rich with subtle promises! It was mellow, like a woman's, but not mellow from bruising—the only way, Mme. M——i told me once. Those poor women!
Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was: and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.
I can see her now ... there are those, I know, who have guessed my poor secret, and who wonder that I do not "console myself," in the silly phrase of the day. How could I? The twitter of the Hawaiian girls is like that of the beach-birds in my ears, after that golden-ivory voice!
It was in October, I think, that she began to grow restless. Roger was full of plans for the coming winter, and had even gone so far as to all but complete the formalities of renting a house in New York, when she startled us all by inquiring of me when I intended to start for Italy.
"For I am coming with you," she concluded placidly.
"I'm afraid not, chérie," said Roger, "I must get to work, you know. You can take lessons in New York, all you want."
"But I do not care to go to New York," she returned quietly. "I like Paris better. I need not nurse the baby, now, and I can sing a great deal. Jerry can take me."