widow's distinctive garments because Sir David had told her that he
hated weeds. But she wore a plain, heavy cloak, and a long veil fell
into the folds made by her skirts. The raiment of a gothic angel, an
angel like those in the portico at Rheims, has these same straight,
stern lines. "Black is sometimes as suggestive of white," was the
reflection of one member of the congregation, "as white may be
suggestive of mourning." Sir Edmund Grosse, who had known Rose from her
childhood, felt some new revelation in her movements; there was a fuller
development of womanhood in her walk, and there was a reserve, too, as
of one consecrated and set apart. He heaved a deep sigh as she passed
near him going down the church, and their eyes met. She had no shrinking
in her bearing; her reserves were too deep for her to avoid an open
meeting with other human eyes. She looked at Sir Edmund for a moment as
if giving, rather than demanding, sympathy; and indeed, there was more
trouble in his eyes than in hers.

The service had gone perilously near to Roman practices. It was among
the first of those uncontrollable instinctive expressions of faith in
prayer for the departed which were a marked note of English feeling
during the Boer war. Questions as to their legality were asked in
Parliament, but little heeded, for the heart of the nation, "for her
children mourning," sought comfort in the prayers used by the rest of
the Christian world.

Rose's mother went home with her and they talked, very simply and in
sympathy, of the tributes to the soldier's memory. Then, when luncheon
came and the servants were present, they spoke quietly of the work to be
done for soldiers' wives and of a meeting the mother was to attend that
afternoon. Lady Charlton was the mother one would expect Rose to
have--indeed, such complete grace of courtliness and kindness points to