Meanwhile, as no reply had been given to her question, the blind woman sighed, and passed on. Molly did not know what to do, or whom to believe. She had never been wrong before in trusting one of her friend’s friends; and this certainly looked like the Miss Lydia of whom Mrs Jennet had spoken. But had Old Nancy written that letter? If so, she would, of course, trust her before any one, and obey her instructions.
“I can’t find out who wrote the letter, at least, not yet,” thought Molly. “But I can find out if she really is Miss Lydia.”
Her mind made up, she stepped forward a few paces, and called in a clear voice:
“There is some one here. Can I help you?”
The blind woman turned eagerly, and groped her way back toward the voice.
“Oh, I am so glad to hear some one speak again—but who are you? Are you a friend?” asked the woman anxiously. “I am so helpless, you know, and—and——”
“I am willing to be your friend, if— But who are you?” asked Molly. “What is your name?”
“My name is Lydia North,” replied the woman. “And I live in a little cottage—up there—somewhere”—she waved her arm vaguely. “On the side of the Giant’s Head.... Oh, tell me who you are, please!”
“I am a little girl,” answered Molly. “And if you are truly Miss Lydia—I am your friend. Tell me what I can do for you.”