summer
noon
I only deprecate the publicity that might wound my mother 's memory . And you are not old and broken , my father . How can you be -- at forty-three ? You are in the sunny summer noon of your life . But you are harassed and ill in mind and body ; and you are very morbid and sensitive . You shun society , form no new ties with your fellow-creatures , and brood over that old sad tragedy long passed . Think no more of it , father ; its wounds are long since healed in every heart but yours ; my mother has been in heaven these many years ; as long as I have been on earth ; my birthday here was her birthday there !