But in spite of the cries of several hundred admirers, Madame Otto Goldschmidt and her husband refused to appear on the balcony. At the dock when her ship left two thousand people gathered to make a noise, in contrast to the thirty thousand who had shoved their way to greet her. The _Herald_ on the morning of her departure gave her this parting thrust: “She has been principally engaged in singing pieces of operas and catches of all kinds, which were considerably more of the clap-trap style than in accordance with the rigid rules of classical music. When she returns to London and makes her reappearance in opera, she will have to prune away a great deal of her _ad libitum_ redundancies in which she indulged during her career in this land.” This was the same woman whose song seemed to the _Herald_ of a little more than a year before to be “melting into the song of the seraphim” until it was “lost in eternity.” After her return to England, where she and her husband settled eventually, Jenny Lind was rarely heard in public. She and Otto Goldschmidt lived at Malvern Hills, where near by there are the three things she admired most, “trees, water, and a cathedral.” She gave a few oratorio concerts in England and several concerts for charity on the Continent, but after her marriage her retirement was practically complete. It is significant of her character that without a pang of regret she could still her voice as soon as she changed her name from Jenny Lind to Madame Otto Goldschmidt. After 1863 she was seldom heard in public, even for charity, although she was only forty-three years old. Her last appearance took place in 1883, and in 1887 she died at Malvern Hills, England, after suffering from complete paralysis for five weeks.