The children did not cheer their mother.

When she saw that, Madame felt that there was nothing to be done but to leave her in the cold solitude she loved.
But as Felicita sat alone on the shore, looking listlessly at the fleeting sails which were passing to and fro upon the sea, she saw afar off the figure of a girl coming swiftly toward her from the village, and before many moments had passed she recognized Phebe Marlowe's face.

A great throb of mingled relief and dread made her heart beat violently.
Nothing could have brought Phebe away, so far from home, except the news of Roland's death.
The rosy color on Phebe's face was gone, and the brightness of her blue eyes was faded; but there was the same out-looking of a strong, simple, unselfish soul shining through them.

As she drew near to Felicita she stretched out her arms with the instinctive gesture of one who was come to comfort and support, and Felicita, with a strange, impulsive feeling that she brought consolation and help, threw herself into them.
"I know it all," said Phebe in a low voice.

"Oh, what you must have suffered! He was going to Engelberg to meet you, and you never saw him alive! Oh, why did not God let you meet each other once again?
But God loved him.