His mother and sister had died when he was beginning to make a name for himself.

He had gone forth from the loneliness of his home to the loneliness of the tropical forest; and he had returned to the loneliness of London.
She felt that she had done well to repeat to him the words of his mother's friend.

Those words had affected him deeply.

They could not but be a source of comfort to him when he was overwhelmed with the thought of his loneliness.

They would make him feel that his position was understood by some people who were able to think of him apart from the great work which he had accomplished.
Thus the maiden sat musing in the silent room after she had dried her tears of pity for the man who an hour before had sauntered up to her door thinking, not of the melancholy isolation of his position in the world, but simply that two hours of the longest day of his life must pass before he could kiss the lips of the woman who had given herself up to him.
Her maid found her still seated on the sofa, and ventured to remind her that time was fugitive, and that if mademoiselle still retained her intention of going to Lady Earlscourt's dinner party,--Lady Earlscourt was giving a dinner party apparently for the purpose of celebrating her husband's departure for a cruise in Norwegian fjords in his yacht,--it would be absolutely necessary for mademoiselle to permit herself to be dressed without delay.
Phyllis sprang up with a little laugh that sounded like a large sigh, and said if Fidele would have the kindness to switch on the lights in the dressing room, she would not be kept waiting a moment.
The maid hurried upstairs, and mademoiselle repaired to an apartment where she could remove, so far as was possible, the footmarks left by those tears which she had shed when she had reflected upon the loneliness to which Mr.Herbert Courtland was doomed for (probably) the remainder of his life.
Mademoiselle had a dread of the acuteness of vision with which her maid was endowed.