Madame received her as if she had been a favorite child, whose presence was the very comfort and help she stood most in need of.

Though she devoted herself to Felicita, there was a distance between them, an impenetrable reserve, that chilled her spirits and threw her love back upon herself.
But to Phebe she could pour out her heart unrestrainedly, dwelling upon the memory of her lost son, and mourning openly for him.

And Phebe never spoke a word that could lead Roland's mother to think she believed him to be guilty.

With a loving tact she avoided all discussion on that point; and, though again and again the pang of her own loss made itself poignantly felt, she knew how to pour consolation into the heart of Roland's mother.
But to Felix and Hilda Phebe's companionship was an endless delight.

She came from her lonely homestead on the hills into the full stream of London life, and it had a ceaseless interest for her.