"They lied. She is pure and innocent still, in spite of pardonable vanity and girlish coquetry," he thought, with a subtle thrill of joy.
Then he saw Granny Jenks dart forward with a skinny, outstretched claw, whining:
"I came for your wages, Liane. I was afraid you might fool away the money before you got home."
"The old harpy!" he muttered, with irrepressible indignation, as he saw her clutch the money Liane had earned by her week's toil.
Then he drew back quickly, lest she should see him, a sudden resolve forming in his mind.
He would follow them, and find out where her home was, and if she deserved the cruel things they said of her at Stonecliff. He felt sure that she had been slandered, poor, pretty Liane, leading her simple, blameless life of toil and poverty.
He thought with pleasure of Mr. Clarke's interest in Liane, and promised himself to write to that gentleman all he could find out about her, little dreaming of the cruel consequences that would follow on the writing of the letter.
"Poor little girl, it is a shame that evil hearts should malign and traduce her, living her humble life of toil, poverty, and innocence!" Jesse Devereaux said to himself pityingly, on returning from following Liane to her humble abode.
He satisfied himself that her surroundings, though poor, were strictly respectable, and that she earned a meager living for herself and granny by patient, daily toil, and he had turned back to his own life of ease and luxury with a sore heart.