ndolence. Behold! to me the lady who died yesterday spoke her last
words--here, on this spot. She said not a word afterwards to any human
creature. I come to communicate them to you. There is but little to
tell."

It was so little that Phebe felt greatly disappointed; though her eyes
grew blind with tears as she thought of Felicita standing here before
this deceptive cross and calling herself of all women the most
miserable. The cross itself had had no message of peace to her troubled
heart. "Most miserable," repeated Phebe to herself, looking back upon
yesterday with a vain yearning that she had been there to tell Felicita
that she shared her misery, and could help her to bear it.

"And now," continued the cure, "can I be of any service to Madame? You
are alone; and there are a few formalities to observe. It will be some
days before your friends can arrive. Command me, then, if I can be of
any service."

"Can you help me to get away," she asked, in a tone of eager anxiety,
"down to Lucerne as quickly as possible? I have telegraphed to Madame's
son, and he will come immediately. Of course, I know in England when a
sudden death occurs there are inquiries made; and it is right and
necessary. But you see Madame died of a heart disease."

"Without doubt," he interrupted; "she was ill here, and I followed her
down the village, and saw her enter Jean Merle's hut. I was about to
enter, for she had been there a long time, when you appeared with your
guide and went in. In a minute there was a cry, and I saw Jean Merle
bearing the poor lady out into the daylight and you following them.
Without doubt she died from natural causes."

"There are formalities to observe," said Phebe earnestly, "and they take
much time. But I must leave Engelberg to-morrow, or the next day at the
latest, taking her with me. Can you help me to do this?"

"But you will bury Madame here?" answered the cure, who felt deeply
what interest would attach to another English grave in the village
burial-ground; "she told me yesterday Roland Sefton was her relative,
and there will be many difficulties and great expenditure in taking her
away from this place."

"Yes," answered Phebe, "but Madame belongs to a great family in England;
she was the daughter of Baron Riversborough, and she must be buried
among her own people. You shall telegraph to the consul at Geneva, and
he will say she must be buried among her own people, not here. It does
not signify about t