"My dear lady that's gone," she said, "must be glad to know that there is another heart keeping watch here."
Her voice was soft and had a muffled sound as of one used to long silence. The tone seemed to harmonise with the singularity of the words. A small cold shiver ran over Rosamond; she stared without replying.
"The day the news came," proceeded the housekeeper, dreamily, "she set up that altar to him. And there she found peace."
As old Mary spoke, the habit of the trained servant was still strong upon her. She stooped to tuck in the fold of Rosamond's dressing-gown closer round her feet.
"There she prayed," she went on, as she straightened herself again, "and then, he came back to her in peace."
Rosamond closed the frame in her hands with a snap. She felt every impulse within her strike out against the mystic atmosphere that seemed to be closing round her.
"What are you saying?" she cried sharply. "In Heaven's name what do you mean? Who came back—the dead?"
Old Mary smiled again. She bent over the chair.
"Why, ma'am," she said, as if speaking to a frightened child, "you don't need to be told, a good lady like you: to those that have faith, there is no death."
"No death!" echoed Rosamond. "All life is death. Everything is full of death."