Her twin brother Felix died the same day . There was something strange about that , too . I was holding her in my arms and she was looking up at me ; suddenly she looked past me and gave a little start . ` Felix ! ' she said . For a moment she trembled and then she smiled and looked up at me again a little beseechingly . ` Felix has come for me , dear , ' she said . ` We were always together before you came -- you must not mind -- you must be glad I do not have to go alone . ' Well , who knows ? But she left me , Sara -- she left me . '' There was that in Uncle Blair 's voice that kept us silent for a time . Then the Story Girl said , still very softly : `` What did mother look like , father ? I do n't look the least little bit like her , do I ? '' `` No , I wish you did , you brown thing . Your mother 's face was as white as a wood-lily , with only a faint dream of rose in her cheeks . She had the eyes of one who always had a song in her heart -- blue as a mist , those eyes were . She had dark lashes , and a little red mouth that quivered when she was very sad or very happy like a crimson rose too rudely shaken by the wind . She was as slim and lithe as a young , white-stemmed birch tree . How I loved her ! How happy we were !
But he who accepts human love must bind it XXXXX his soul with pain , and she is not lost to me .
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