"You were in a high fever, raving mad."
"What did I rave about?"
"About the dead man and the blood; and you frequently cried out to your mother to kill him. That had something to do with bring the crime home to her."
"Cruel--cruel, to take a child's ravings as evidence!"
"That was not done," said Mr. Cass sharply. "The law treated the prisoner"--Neil winced--"perfectly fairly. But the suspicion was instilled into the hearts of those who had heard your words."
"She didn't deny the charge?"
"She denied nothing--hardly opened her mouth, in fact. I got a lawyer to her--I saw her myself and implored her to speak but she obstinately refused. All she asked was, that I should take charge of you, which I promised I would do."
Neil looked up sharply, and asked the pointed question "Why?"
"I don't think you should ask me that," Mr. Cass said, somewhat pained. "Have I not proved myself a friend to you? Was it not natural that I should feel sympathy for a girl who had been a member of my household. Your mother, remember, had been governess to my eldest daughter? And your father had been in my employment. Why should you suspect me of any motive save that of sorrow for the ruin of a woman--whom I had liked as a bright girl--and pity for a helpless child?"
"Forgive me if I am wrong." Neil shook hands with much penitence. "But I am suspicious now of all the world. Heaven help me! Go on."