“And does she not resent being made a convenience of?” “No; it is only self-respect that keeps her from falling in love with him.” “Is he then so agreeable to her?” “He gives her everything that is not worth the having.” “What do you mean?” “He gives her everything but love.” “But that, with a husband, no one would want.” Mariana’s eyebrows rose. “There are double marriages on Lucifram, I’m given to understand.” “Yes; but no one thinks much of a woman who marries twice, unless she is a widow.” “Indeed,” Mariana answered, and was silent. “But is Mr. Barringcourt fond of no one?” Rosalie pursued. “I never heard of anyone. He is cold and proud, and often takes no trouble to hide it.” “But then there are so many good and beautiful women in the world.” “They find partners, perhaps, that need them more.” After another silence Rosalie continued: “And Mr. Todbrook—what did he die of?” “I think he went down the back staircase.” “In his own house?” “Yes.” “What do you mean?” “He died.” “In which room?” “The one the Master sleeps in now. There is a portrait of him in the picture-gallery. To-morrow you shall see it.” “What did he die of?” “He had quick ears. He heard the spirit voices calling, and he went to them.” “Painlessly?” “Like one sailing on a sea of glass. They say his end was merciful; and I know it was. He suffered nothing—he suffers nothing now.” “Is he in heaven?” “I doubt there was too little pain for that; but yet I cannot tell. He may have suffered previously. Men’s lives are strange. And the roughest rocks are coated by smooth waters. They keep their secrets all too well.” “I’m tired, Mariana. Shall we go to bed?” “Yes. When you wish it.” So they rose and went together to the bedroom, which had a chilly air in it after the cosy room. When at last Rosalie was in bed, Mariana smoothed the coverlet and tucked the bed-clothes in. “Leave me a light, won’t you?” “Yes; I’ll put it on this table. But there is nothing to fear. An easy conscience may sleep well here, secure from harm.” She moved away, but after a few steps returned. She stooped over the bed and kissed Rosalie’s brow. “Good-night, little one. Sleep peacefully till daybreak.” And then she went away. Big tears rose in Rosalie’s eyes, for the words had awakened in her a terrible longing for love and companionship, stronger and more powerful than ever Mariana, in her terribly set existence, could ever know how to give. For Rosalie felt that she was even now the stronger of the two, and wept for Mariana’s solitude as well as her own. CHAPTER XI GARDEN AND HOUSE OF SHADOWS