She’s at the cemetery one day, talking to Father about this, when she sees a pale, thin man she thinks she recognizes as her half-brother, Richard Booth. He’s walking in her direction, but veers away at the sight of her. She wonders if he was also visiting Father’s grave.

She’s surprised to think he might do this, as she’s never seen him there before and, really, he has good reasons to be angry with Father. The way Father had taken him on tour, shown him a fatherly regard and affection, only to snatch it all away the minute Adelaide arrived. How hurtful that must have been. And then those years when they all lived in Baltimore without Father taking the trouble to see him, find out how he was doing. She can almost understand why he fought so hard to take Father’s estate away from them.

But that evening, just before she goes up to bed, Mother tells her Adelaide has died, so it must have been his mother, not his father, who brought Richard to the cemetery. Mother’s voice is colorless when she delivers the news, poking at the fire with her back turned so her face is hidden. Her posture makes it clear that there will be no conversation regarding this matter.

Although Rosalie has vivid memories of the harridan who followed them, spitting and shouting through the streets, the news of her death softens Rosalie. There’s no denying that Father treated his first wife abominably. What a sad life Adelaide led. She wonders if Mother feels guilty about it. Rosalie has no reason for guilt herself, but she’s ready to acknowledge blame on all sides.

This generosity of spirit vanishes the first time she sees Adelaide’s gravestone. It reads:

Jesus Mary Joseph

pray for the soul of
Marie Christine Adelaide

Delannoy

Wife of

Junius Brutus Booth tragedian

She died in Baltimore

March the 9th, 1858

Aged 66 years

It is a holy and wholesome thought
to pray for the dead

May she rest in peace

Wife of Junius Brutus Booth, indeed! The fact that this stone rests only a short stroll from Father’s own grave, in the same cemetery, under the same poplars, adds to the insult. Here lies Adelaide, reaching out from beyond the grave to spit on them one last time. Her claim to Father is apparently deathless.

So Rosalie’s enmity will be the same. She decides that she will not be praying for this particular soul.

Old Spudge sends them her obituary as it ran in New Orleans under the quite mistaken assumption that they’ll be amused.

No less than three persons died, at Baltimore on Tuesday of disease of the heart. Mrs. Mary Booth, a divorced wife of the celebrated tragedian Booth, aged 65 years; Mr. Joseph Lokey, a messenger at the Mt. Clare Station, rather advanced in life; and a man unknown, apparently 50 years of age, who fell dead in the street.