Hers had been that hearing beyond listening to which secrets are sometimes revealed.
Her death was more of a loss to her son-in-law than he might have conceived, for not only was she the last of Jenny's flesh and blood, but she was the only one else in the world who missed Jenny as he missed her.

Others might, through sympathy, share his sorrow, but she and he were partners in an actual loss.

Something had definitely gone from each.

Jenny seemed to be twice dead with the death of her mother, and Theophil's loneliness suddenly became more absolute and cut off than ever before.
There was now no one left who could involuntarily recall remembered words and traits of Jenny, and who would for their own sakes want to sit down and talk of her.

All that was left that really knew Jenny was the old house itself.