She was a person who lacked worldly wisdom, and in worldly matters she was not prosperous—she never sowed that sort of grain. It was very touching to find that she had not even a few trinkets to leave behind, but that one by one each had been sold to pay for something for the invalid—a doctor's fee, or a chemist's heavy bill. She left the world as unobtrusively as she lived in it. Her last illness was very sudden and brief, and probably she would have been thankful that the little household was spared any extra expense.
The news of Lydia's death was unexpected by every one. When I turned and left the house and was walking home again, I met Mrs. Taylor going to inquire about her neighbour's health, with an offering of fruit in a little basket. She begged me, in the Stowel fashion, to turn and walk back with her, declaring that she felt so seriously upset by the news that if I would only see her as far as her gate I should be doing her a kindness. In the garden the General, who had run down to Stowel for a couple of days, was reclining in a deck-chair, Indian fashion. He was reading some cookery recipes in a number of Truth, and he turned to his niece as she crossed the lawn and said, "Do you think your cook could manage this, Mary? Select a fine pineapple——"
"Oh, uncle," said Mrs. Taylor with a good deal of feeling, "we have had such bad news! Our dear old friend in the village, Miss Lydia Blind, is dead."
"What Lydia Blind?" said the General; and Mrs. Taylor replied,—
"You never knew her, dear. She wasn't able to come to the party; indeed, I think she has been ailing ever since about that time, but we had no idea that the end was so near."
"It can't be the Lydia Blind I used to know?" said the General.
"Oh no, you couldn't have known her," said Mrs. Taylor with a sob; "she was just a dear old maiden lady living in the village on very small means."
"She hadn't a sister called Belinda, had she?" said the General.
Mrs. Taylor said she had, and I remembered suddenly how I had seen Lydia Blind standing one morning in front of the General's picture in the photographer's shop, and had heard her say, "I used to know him."
Mrs. Taylor went indoors, and I said good-bye, but the General said to me abruptly, "I should like to see her; will you take me there?" And he did not speak again until we found ourselves in the little porch of the cottage. He looked very tall standing by the low door of the house, and an odd idea came to me that Miss Lydia would have been proud of her afternoon caller.