The Daughter of a Soldier by L.T. Meade

The Rector paced up and down in front of Grace Connor's little cabin. The Rector's heart was sorely burdened. The stars in their courses, the moon as she came up in the heavens, had no effect upon him. Dominic had gone in search of Maureen. It was impossible to say a word to Grace. Her deafness was of that stony sort that no words could break. She lived in a world of silence -- a world of silence absolute and complete.

Grace Connor was not an unhappy old woman. The Silences around her, the Everlasting Hills which surrounded her, gave to this withered old body a strange sensation of peace. She saw immediately that the Rector was troubled, but it was impossible for her to help him. She therefore did not try. She looked at Dominic with the admiration all women had for the brave lad, and when he spoke of Maureen, hoping that his clear young voice would penetrate through the unbroken stillness, she understood him sufficiently to point outwards, and to smile in a vague and yet comforting manner. Then she busied herself, preparing all she could in the way of refreshments for the Rector, the young maid, and the boy.