The night before everything came to an end, Ms. Prosper finally agreed to sing for us.

She was a serious woman, a small woman with a heavy manner, though some later recalled a twinkle in her eye, and others a dry sense of humor.

I remember only that her presence was full of undescribed life and uncheapened by conclusions.

But, ah, when she began to sing, the seriousness was like oil she had saved for a day of need. The song came out of her light and young, a hint at what she must have been before we knew her. She held the final note of each phrase for a...