“Pardon me, young woman, for speaking to you, but you are under some distress of mind. I cannot pass upon my way and leave you weeping here alone, as if there was nothing in the place. Can I help you? Can I do anything to give you comfort?”

She raised her head at the sound of these kind words, and answered gladly, “O, Mr. Riah, is it you?”

“My daughter,” said the old man, “I stand amazed! I spoke as to a stranger. Take my arm, take my arm. What grieves you? Who has done this? Poor girl, poor girl!”

“My brother has quarrelled with me,” sobbed Lizzie, “and renounced me.”