“The disordered state of her brain did not prevent her having misgivings as to her approaching end. The night which preceded the last I heard her saying to her nurse, ‘Do not leave me; tell me when I am to die.’ At my approach her fears subsided; but when I spoke to her of recovery, of returning to La Grange: ‘Oh no! I am going to die. Have you any cause of complaint against me?’
“‘For what, my dear? you have always been so good and so loving!’
“‘Have I, then, been a gentle companion to you?’
“‘Yes; assuredly.’
“‘Well, then, give me your blessing.’
“On all these last evenings, when she thought I was going to leave her, she would ask for my blessing.
“I spoke to her of the happiness of our union; of my tenderness. She took pleasure in hearing me repeat the assurance of my love. ‘Promise me,’ she said, ‘to preserve that affection forever. Promise me.’
“You may well believe that I promised.
“‘Are you satisfied with your children?’ she added.
“I told her how completely they satisfied me.