For a short time Felix and Hilda played about her; but by and by Madame, thinking she was weary and worried, allured them away to a point where they were still in sight, though out of hearing.

The low, cold sun shed its languid and watery rays upon the rocks and creeping tide, and, unnoticed, almost unseen, Felicita could sit there in stillness, gazing out over the chilly and mournful sea.

There was something so unutterably sad about Felicita's condition that it awed the simple, cheerful nature of Madame.

It was more than illness and exhaustion.

The white, unsmiling face, the drooping head, the languor of the thin, long hands, the fathomless sorrow lurking behind her dark eyes--all spoke of a heart-sickness such as Madame had never seen or dreamed of.