my sister Mrs. Lefroy at Wyards'. The next day we walked over to
Chawton to make enquiries after our aunt. She was then keeping her
room, but said she would see us, and we went up to her. She was in
her dressing gown, and was sitting quite like an invalid in an arm-
chair, but she got up and kindly greeted us, and then, pointing to
seats which had been arranged for us by the fire, she said, "There is
a chair for the married lady, and a little stool for you, Caroline."
{171} It is strange, but those trifling words were the last of hers
that I can remember, for I retain no recollection of what was said by
anyone in the conversation that ensued. I was struck by the
alteration in herself. She was very pale, her voice was weak and low,
and there was about her a general appearance of debility and
suffering; but I have been told that she never had much acute pain.
She was not equal to the exertion of talking to us, and our visit to
the sick room was a very short one, Aunt Cassandra soon taking us
away. I do not suppose we stayed a quarter of an hour; and I never
saw Aunt Jane again.'

In May 1817 she was persuaded to remove to Winchester, for the sake of
medical advice from Mr. Lyford. The Lyfords have, for some generations,
maintained a high character in Winchester for medical skill, and the Mr.
Lyford of that day was a man of more than provincial reputation, in whom
great London practitioners expressed confidence. Mr. Lyford spoke
encouragingly. It was not, of course, his business to extinguish hope in
his patient, but I believe that he had, from the first, very little
expectation of a permanent cure. All that was gained by the removal from
home was the satisfaction of having done the best that could be done,
together with such alleviations of suffering as superior medical skill
could afford.