His face was almost as haggard as her own.
"What would comfort you?" he asked.
She turned from him towards the little bed, and, falling on her knees beside it, burst into passionate weeping.
"It was all I had!" she cried. "All I had! O God! How cruel!"
He laid his hand upon her shoulder, not to stay her tears, but to suggest sympathy. Beyond her the sweet, grave face of the dead child lay wreathed in rose-buds.
At his touch she rose and faced him.
"Tell me that I shall see him again!" she cried. "Tell me that he is not dead—that he is somewhere—somewhere! Tell me that God is just!"
His lips were blue, and he put up his hand imploring mercy; then he opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came.
She clung to him, sobbing.
"Pray to God for me," she said.