e for good

ple chattering in groups; when the clatter of a horse's feet was heard, and a horseman burst in and rode recklessly through the market-place; indeed, if his noble horse had been as rash as he was, some would have been trampled under foot. The rider's face was ghastly: suc

rous tirades of a pedler selling his wares; and was saying to himself, "I too will be a pedler.

reading countenances: he saw in a moment that some great calamity had fallen on Griffith's head; and

his eyes, great and staring, were fixed right ahead; and, to all appear

ied Leicester. "What have they done to you? Wh

itch for their throats; my heart thirsts for their blood; but I'll not hang for a priest and a wan

furiously over the stones, and drove the thinner groups apart like chaff, and his galloping feet

nt his own way. He took his broken rider back into the county where he had been foaled. But a few miles from his native place they came to the "Packhorse," a pretty little roadside inn, with farm-yard and buildings at the back. He had often baited here in his infancy; and now, sti

g at the kitchen door, and saw him come in. He turned directly, and shouted into the house, "Ho

Then he came lowly louting to Griffith, cap in hand, and held the horse,

and stood there looki

r," said the landlady,

ed her me

be private? We keep

be alone,"

tled her, and she turned round directly to look at the speaker; but she only saw his

pressed him. He flung a piece of money on the table, and to

d face, and complained to

to a reply. It rang like a bell. "Churl or not, his coin is good," said H

rcy, "I do think the g

ness of mine, neithe

re discussing called loudly

rious. The landlord looked up rather surprised; for his daughter

elcome for me," said

nd found Griffith with hi

ith the tray, not

she said softly, "The wine

markably dove-like eyes that dwelt with timid, kindly curiosity upon him. He looked at her in a half-distracted way, and the

with gentle dignity. Then she courtesied mod

had repulsed a friendly visitor. The wine, taken on an e

eak: and O the ag

ones, and his heart like lead; then got up and flung his cl

ty m

horse. The poor br

nd like a wild beast, chafing and fuming awhile; then sank into a t

alse-hearted stuff, did him no good, and had no taste as wine used to have. "But n

n her dove-like eyes, and said to her father, "To be sure his worship hath been cros

mbling, or racing. But, indeed, I think 't is his head is disordered, not his heart. I

roaning, and talking, and

A weak voice bade her enter. She found h

t of hearing, bu

allooing. He wanted all the win

d he complained of pain in all his bones. She opened the windows, and as

d raved and tossed, and rolled his head as if it

or sending at once for a doctor;

e," said he. "I've seen a fine coat w

roats at him with one acc

rcy; "are we to do

orse, ye foolish ma

said Harry Vint, ironically. And

ng his pockets. To his infinite surprise he found twen

to himself they would be safer in his custody than in that of a delirious person, who was even now raving incoh

aking hand was arrested by anoth

aughter's face, pale as his own, but full of resolution. "Nay, fathe

oney and jewels, and retired, muttering that "things were come to a pret

d the patient. This gave him a momentary relief; but when, in the natural progress of the disease, sweating and weakness came on, the loss of the precious

o nurse him, and she told Mrs. Vin

horse" after Mercy Vint, and, finding

ut the poor gentleman a-dying ove

ee him,"

im softly in

octor has taken too much blood out of th

Can naught be done?" said

s strong as strong; have him watched night and day, and let 'em put a spoonful of warm wine into him every hour, and then of soup; egg flip is a good thing, too; change his bed-linen, and keep

ry good opinion, she had the great arm-chair brought into the sick-room, and watched the patient herself by night and day; a gentle hand cooled his temples; a gentle hand brought concentrated nourishme

vement, and told her mother so. Then the old lady came and examined the patient, and s

settled that Griffith was a gentleman highwayman, and his spoil would never be reclaimed after his decease, but fall to those good Samaritans, who were now nursing him, and inten

of the "Packhorse" spoke to White, the village carpenter, about a full-sized coffin;

led up the crone to tend him. She herself, worn out with fatigue, thre

as wakened by a strange noise in the sic

e bed, and was in

nurse and the dying man abusin

uslin about three inches deep. She soon completed the winding-sheet, and hung it over two chairs in the patient's sight; she then proceeded to double the slips in six, and nick

not observe the sick man had awakened, and was viewin

ou are making?"

rtled the woman mightily. She uttered a little shriek, and then was wroth. "Plague take the man!" said sh

making," said Griffith, louder

ecovering that contempt for the understanding

h. "And there is a shr

quiet, do, till the change comes. 'T won't b

disappoint ye yet. Give me my clothes. I'll not l

hank a decent woman for making a comfortable corpse of ye, you that has no right to die

vulture," "hag," "blood-sucker," etc., blended

yourself a mischief," said she; "leave me to scold her. Why, my good Nelly, how could ye be so hare-brained? Pri

, piteously, finding he had got one frien

. "But I'd balk them finely. I'd up

eble spite. "Leastways, do you orde

em accordingly. In ten minutes Mercy brought a good rump-steak to the b

t baby ate more than half the steak; and s

s cheek, and told Mercy there was a change for the better. "We have brou

y, innocently. "Nay, send thou the medicine,

whispered softly to Mrs. Vin

, crossly. "Here's Farrier Carrick stepped in, a

y patient!" cried the

Paul is a sort of a kind of a follower of o

riership prescribed? F

is above, physicking the gentleman (a pretty gent

to make one in so

his impertinent farrier, the patient's blood b

screamed, "Mercy, the good doctor want

and Mercy soon came down and paid it with a w

n she was gone; "and, by the same token, I wish

aw a field of golden wheat through an open window, and seated at that window the mellow songstress, Mercy Vint, plying her needle, w

rn and summer haze beyond, and the tid

he, "tell me, where a

g, then rose and came slowly towar

of convalescence flushed her co

e 'Packhorse,'"

rse'? and wh

Allerton

that? not in

come you that know not the 'Packhorse,' nor y

I'm going on board ship,

it; you have been very il

face to the wall, with a deep groan.

on, but the water gathered in

ace of anguish, and filmy eyes, and saw her in

there still?" s

oner than be troublesome.

bring me wine t

t him a pi

e, with a miserable

r dove's eyes were looking up at him over the liquor all the

re not: the doctor hath fo

tor! Wha

emurely. "He hath saved yo

ake him f

ay no

ilking time, sir; and you shall know that I

tient called to her in peevish accents to put his head higher. S

too high," said he; "

t not good will. There, now

here. I want to get up. Dost he

fit. To-morrow, perhaps. To-day you must e'

are making down stairs. Go, lass

give over running; but, to be sure, this comes of keeping a hostelry, s

wn their eternal buzzi

ck, sir, I'm

angel at that time, but 't was only you, my young mistress: and now I ask you, you say me nay. That is the way with you all. Plague take the

ing like a bird. "That is right, sir: tax us all to your heart's content. O, but I'm a joyful wo

cross-grained," said

been in care for you: and now you are

oul. Wilt sing me

e sure, 't is a sin to gainsay a sick man. But indeed I am the homeliest sing

at nor sup till

e first obvious preliminary. Then she fiddled with her apron, and hemmed, and waited in ho

shame all the time, sang an ancient ditty. The poltroon's voice was rich, mellow, clear, and sweet as honey; and s

uritan stock, and even her songs were not giddy-paced, but so

birds chirping outside, yet filled the room within, and the glasses rang in harmony upon

tell your p

r winds may

winds can

e far from

dangers o

those that

love and cold

t soon it was too much for him. He knew the song,-had sung it to Kate Peyton in their days of courtship. A thousand me

tears ran from her eyes at the sight. Then, wi

dogged resolution,-put on his clothes unaided, though he could hardly stand to do it, and borrowed the landlord's staff, and crawled out a sm

as uneasy. So, for an excuse to watch him, she brought him out his money

lierly, and offered

; and even turned a meekly reproachf

forbade any one to call him "Your worship." "I am a farmer,

unhappy lover, or else benumbs

ort of death seemed enough for her, he set to work to obliterate her from his very memory, if possible. He tried employment: he pottered about the little farm, advising and helping,-and that so zealously

o, and taught her sweet songs, which he accompanied with such skill, sometimes, with his vo

s no exception: bent on curing his own deep wound, he n

her so. And his gratitude charmed her all the

a wonderful soother: he applied h

we have been kind to, than to those who have been kind to us: and the female reader can easily imagine what delicious feelings stole into that

-where these meet, l

h while he was weak, became gentler, kinder, a

oved it. She told Paul Carrick if he had any thought of Mercy he had b

p her head with a new-comer," said he. "To be sure I never asked her

than I do," said the

o run unnecessary risks. He came up one afternoon, and hunted about

My old dad says we may have his house to live in.

out of his house!" said

the chimney-corner: and you are not

leave his house? Methinks the farm would go to rack

l accounts: and if you talk like

m too young to marry yet. Je

ase advantage; and used it. Her forehead was wedged tight against Jenny's ribs, and Paul cou

d he, roughly, "and answer straight.

o much to me in all these

enough. There's a many wa

ut is the b

or twice a week, this two y

e, and fat

arted hussy. But nay, thou wast never so: 't is this Thomas Lei

rcy, blushing. "He is a right civil-spoken

times ere I'd have interfered. But they say if you save a man's life he'll make you rue it. Mercy, my lass, yo

ek burned with anger; but the unwonted sentiment died before it could fi

been more than friends, or were now anything less than friends. Still he forced her to own to herself, that, if she had ne

tearful, awoke her pity, which was the grand s

ffith had depths, and could love with more passion than ever he had shown for her. "He is not the man to have a fever by reason of me," said the poor gi

: called him a highwayman, a gentleman, an ungrateful, undermining traitor. But Griffith never mentioned Carrick; and so, when he and Mercy were togethe

bed the peace of othe

at down beside her, and said, kindl

away, but did not check her tears, for it was new

t tell m

Carrick has been a

! what did

ith it to repeat it. She did

many blushes, that his curiosity was awakened, and he told Mrs.

oolly. "She'll eat her victual

he comes here," replied Griffith; "but, Dame, I want to

d there decided to come to an explanation. "Ten to one 't is about h

enance changed remarkably. Mrs. Vint observed it, an

, I have seen them together a dozen o

any speeches in these parts. T

Mercy was carrying the pail, brimful; and that oaf sauntered by he

ye can't go by the likes of that. The bachelors here they'd see their sweethearts carry the roof into next parish on their backs, like a snail, and never put out a hand; 't is not the custom hereaway. But, as I was saying, Paul and our Mercy kept company, after a manner: he never had

Ho

you are always about the girl; and, bethink you, sir, she is flesh and blood like her neighbors; and they say, once a body has tasted venison-steak, it spoils their stomach for oat-porridge. Now that is

ed. "I'm a vil

it may; but, hoping no offence, sir, the girl was a good friend t

th; "God bless her. How

daughter,-don't say an innkeeper's daughter, or you'll be sure to offend her. She is bitter against the 'Packhorse.' Says you, 'This Paul is an honest lad, turn your

an his hand, and his

d wounded his foible. He was not in love with Mercy, but he esteemed her, and liked

rue weathercocks, she went about directly. "To be sure," said she, "our Mercy is too good for the likes of him. She is not like Harry and me. She has been well brought up by her Aunt Prudence, as was governess in a nobleman's house. She can read and w

enefactress: no man living is good enough fo

s certainly in love with her. "Shouldst have seen his face, girl, when I told h

he kissed her mother eloquently, and went

his jealousy were now at war, and c

house, and besieged Mercy; and Griffith, who saw them together, a

as not behaving like a man. "If the girl is not good enough for you, why make a fool of her, and set her against a good husband?" And when he replied she was g

Peyton's husband that, at last, she and Paul Carr

hand and told her he loved her, and that she was his only com

, and leaned her brow upon his shoulder,

if she could be content with anything short of that, he would retire with her into a distant country, and there, where nobody co

oulder; but she heard him quietly out, and then drew bac

u offer me this day, in my father's house, is, to be y

urned her back on him; but, remembering her manners, courtesied at the door; and so retired; and unpr

her, her eyes were red; his heart smote him, and he began to make excuses and beg her forgiveness. Bu

ere was an Israelite without guile, though you and I never saw him; and once there was a Saxon without bile, and her name was Mercy Vint. In this heart of gold the affections were stronger than the passions. She was deeply wounded, and showed it in a patient way to him who had wounded her, but to none other. Her conduct to him in public a

she was right; he would tear himself away, and never see the dear "Packhorse" again. "But oh! Dame," said he, "'t is a sorrowful thing to be alone in the world again, and naught

to let at this moment. 'T is a better place of business than thi

s! I have no heart to keep an inn without somebody to help me, and say a ki

ant one long. I'll be bound there's plenty of young women where you came from as would be glad to keep the 'Vine' under you. And, if you come to that, our Mercy is a treasure on the farm, but she is no help in the inn, no more than a wax figure. She never bro

roline Ryder. She is handsome, and ha

o be sure she will; for to be mistress of

few months ago, and gla

to her, and p

o; but I must wri

nks you'd bear the bell, you or else Paul Carrick. Why, all his trouble comes on 't. He might have wed ou

the "Vine" (it was only seven miles off); and, after t

. Vint he must ride into Cumberland first to get

d relent, or perhaps be jealous of this housekeeper. But the only visible ef

t. Griffith wrote to Caroline Ryder, and addressed the letter

appear in that sequence of event