This lady was very old; she was also deaf and nearly blind. She left
the management of everything to Lydia Purcell, who, clever and
capable, was well equal to the emergency. There was no steward or
overseer of the little property, but the farm was thoroughly and
efficiently worked. Lydia had been with Mrs. Bell for over twenty
years. She was now trusted absolutely, and was to all intents and
purposes the mistress of Warren's Grove. This had not been so when
first she arrived; she had come at first as a sort of upper servant
or nurse. The old lady was bright and active then. She had a son in
Australia, and a bonnie grandchild to wake echoes in the old place
and keep it alive. This grandchild was a girl of six, and Lydia was
its nurse. For a year all went well; then the child, partly through
Lydia's carelessness, caught a malignant fever, sickened, and died.
Lydia had taken her into an infected house. This knowledge the woman
kept to herself. She never told either doctor or grandmother--she
dared not tell--and the grief, remorse, and pain changed her whole
nature.

Before the death of little Mercy Bell, Lydia had been an ordinary
young woman. She had no special predisposition to evil. She was a
handsome, bold-looking creature, and where she chose to give love,
that love was returned. She had loved her pretty little charge, and
the child had loved her and died in her arms. Mrs. Bell, too, had
loved Lydia, and Lydia was bright and happy, and looked forward to a
home of her own some day.

But from the moment the grave had closed over Mercy, and she felt
herself in a measure responsible for her death, all was changed in
the woman. She did not leave her situation; she stayed on, she served
faithfully, she worked hard, and her clever and well-timed services