"She will not," said Anne, as Juliet went out at the street door; "she blushed as red as fire, and seemed to have something under her cloak—what can it mean?"
Mrs. Aikin guessed what it meant; for, more than once, she had observed Juliet going out on secret expeditions; and once, when she had looked her full in the face, the poor child's downcast eye and burning cheek betrayed her secret to Mrs. Aikin. Truth is stamped with innocence on the soul; there they blend, or are effaced together. Now, Mrs. Aikin thought, she must no longer scruple to interfere; and, when Juliet returned, she went into the entry, and closing the door after her, said—
"What have you there, Juliet?"
"She told me not to tell, ma'am."
"You need not, my child, I know what it is." The fumes of the gin had already betrayed the secret. "Does she take this stuff every day, Juliet ?"
"No, Mrs. Aikin, not now, since she has such a fever and cough—she only takes it when she feels awfully. My own mother never took it, though she had dreadful feelings, too."
While Juliet spoke, she seemed in a flutter of impatience and timidity—all eye and ear—as if expecting a summons; or, what was still worse, fearing a suspicion of betraying the miserable woman's secret. In the meantime, Susan Aikin was considering what she had beat do. That Mrs. Smith's disease must be aggravated, and her death hastened, by the means she took for present relief, was certain; and Susan was not of a temper to fold her hands and say—"It is no business of mine"-
