“He is a thankless dog,” said the Jew, angrily. “Let him go. Shake the dust from thy feet and let him go. Come, daughter! Come home with me⁠—it is but across the road⁠—and take a little time to recover your peace and to make your eyes seemly, and then I will bear you company through the streets. For it is past your usual time, and will soon be late, and the way is long, and there is much company out of doors tonight.”

She accepted the support he offered her, and they slowly passed out of the churchyard. They were in the act of emerging into the main thoroughfare, when another figure loitering discontentedly by, and looking up the street and down it, and all about, started and exclaimed, “Lizzie! why, where have you been? Why, what’s the matter?”

As Eugene Wrayburn thus addressed her, she drew closer to the Jew, and bent her head. The Jew having taken in the whole of Eugene at one sharp glance, cast his eyes upon the ground, and stood mute.

“Lizzie, what is the matter?”