The story of the beautiful life which came to an end on the 5th of April, 1904, is told by Miss Cobbe herself in the following pages up to the close of 1898. Nothing is left for another pen but to sketch in the events of the few remaining years.

The sorrow of Miss Lloyd’s death changed the whole aspect of existence for Miss Cobbe. The joy of life had gone. It had been such a friendship as is rarely seen—perfect in love, sympathy, and mutual understanding. No other friend—though Miss Cobbe was rich in friends—could fill the vacant place, and henceforward her loneliness was great even when surrounded by those she loved and valued. To the very last she could never mention the name of “my dear Mary,” or of her own mother, without a break in her voice. I remember once being alone with her in her study when she had been showing me boxes filled with Miss Lloyd’s letters. Suddenly she turned from me towards her bookshelves as though to look for something, and throwing up her arms cried, with a little sob, “My God! how lonely I am!”

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