“Do you know the suspicions to which your father makes himself liable? Do you know the suspicions that are actually about, against him?”

The consciousness of what he habitually did, oppressed the girl heavily, and she slowly cast down her eyes.

“Say, Lizzie. Do you know?” urged Miss Abbey.

“Please to tell me what the suspicions are, Miss,” she asked after a silence, with her eyes upon the ground.

“It’s not an easy thing to tell a daughter, but it must be told. It is thought by some, then, that your father helps to their death a few of those that he finds dead.”

The relief of hearing what she felt sure was a false suspicion, in place of the expected real and true one, so lightened Lizzie’s breast for the moment, that Miss Abbey was amazed at her demeanour. She raised her eyes quickly, shook her head, and, in a kind of triumph, almost laughed.