"The murder was discovered next morning by a woman who had gone to the Turnpike House to get Mrs. Jenner was doing for her. She gave the alarm, and suspicion fell at once upon your mother. The police were informed, and search was made. Your mother was found five miles away, under a hedge, insensible, with you in her arms. She had succumbed to cold and but she still lived." "Would she had died altogether!" said Neil, sadly. "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." "There is very little more to tell. I took charge of you as I had promised, and I placed you with Mrs. Jent, who is an old servant of mine. You were seriously ill, and were not expected to live. Seeing that your mother was in gaol and your father dead by her hand, I used to think sometimes that it would have been better for you to have died." "I'm glad I did not," cried Neil with vehemence. "I have lived to vindicate my mother's innocence." "You are not likely to where others have failed," Mr. Cass said, sadly. "However, although I thought it would better for yourself and for all concerned that you should not recover, I did not feel justified in letting you slip through my fingers. I got the best doctors to see you, and they managed to pull you round after months of suspense. But the memory of your childhood, up to the time of your illness, was gone from you for ever. It was just as well, seeing how terrible that childhood had been. I made no attempt to revive your dormant memory, and I warned Mrs. Jent not to say anything either. We supplied you with a fictitious past."