In the most retired privacy it was the same as in the presence of men.
The sacred veil of his eyelids he scarcely lifted to himself—such an unviolated sanctuary as was his nature, I, his inmost wife, never conceived nor knew.
So absolute a modesty was not before joined to so lofty a self-respect.
But what must have been that self-respect that he never in the smallest particular dishonored!
A conscience more void of offense never bore witness to GOD within.
It was the innocence of a baby and the grand comprehension of a sage.
To me—himself—even to me who was himself in unity—he was to the last the holy of holies behind the cherubim.
So unerring a judgment that a word from him would settle with me a chaos of doubts and questions that seemed perplexing to ordinary apprehension.
So equal a justice that I often wondered if he were human in this—for this seemed to partake of omniscience both of love and insight.