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GRIFFITH GAUNTVOL. Ill,

LONDON:PsirSTED UT WILLIAM CLOIVES AND SO.CS, STA._I.0--DSTREETAND CHASING _::■--.-

GRIFFITH GAUNT;OR,JEALOUSY.By CHARLES READE.INTHREE VOLUMES.VOL. III.THIRD EDITION.LONDON:CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.1867.(nir/htof Cqrodu lion and TramhiHon is reserved.)

GRIFFITH GAUNT.CHAPTEPt I."Dear Eather and Friend, — The words youspoke to me to-day admit but onemeaning; youare jealous of my7 husband." Thenyou must be— how canIwrite it ? —almost in love with me."" So then my poor husband was wiser than I.He saw arivalin you:and he has one." I am deeply, deeply shocked.Iought to bevery angry too; but, thinking- of your solitarycondition, and all the good you have done to myvol. m.B

2 GRIFFITH GAUNT.soul, my heart has no place for ought but pity.Only, asIam inmy senses, and you are not, youmust now obey me, as heretoforeIhave obeyedyou.You must seek another sphere of duty withoutdelay." These seem harsh words from me to you. Youwill live to see they are kind ones."Write me one line,and no more, to say youwill be ruled by mein this." God and the saints have you in their holykeeping. So prays your affectionate and" SoiTOwful daughter and true friend,"Catherine Gaunt."'"' Poor soul!" said Griffith." SaidInot thatwomen are not wicked, but weak ?Who wouldthink that after this he could get thebetter of hergood resolves — the villain!"" Now read his reply," said Father Francis." Ay," said Griffith. " So this is his one word of

griffith gaunt. 3reply,isit ? three pages closely writ — the villain,oh the villain!"" Head the villain's letter," said Francis,calmly.The letter was very humble and pathetic; thereply of a good, though erring man, who owned.that in a moment of weakness,he had been betrayedinto a feeling inconsistent with his holyprofession. Hebeggedhis correspondent,however,not to judge him quite so hardly. He remindedher of his solitary7 life, his natural melancholy,and assured her that all meninhis condition hadmoments when they envied those whose bosoms"had partners. Such a'cry of anguish," said he," was once rung from a maiden queen,maugreall her pride.The Queen of Scots hath a son:andIam but a barren stock."He went on tosay that prayer and vigilance united do much." Do not despair so soon of me. Flight is notcure:let merather stay and, with God's help andthe saints',overcome thisunhappy weakness.B 2IfI

4 GRIFFITH GAUNT.fail,it will indeedbe time for me to go and neveragain see the angelic face of my daughter and mybenefactress."Griffith laid down the letter. He was somewhatsoftened byit; and said, gently, " Icannotunderstandit. This is not the letter of a thorough badmanneither.""No," said Father Francis, coldly, "'tis theletter of a self-deceiver: and there is no moredangerous man, to himself and others, than y7ourself-deceiver.But nowlet us see whether he canthrow dust in her eyes, as well as his own."he handed him Kate's reply.AndThefirst word ofitwas, " Youdeceive yourself."The writer then insisted, quietly, that he owed itto himself, to her, and to her husband, whosehappiness he was destroying, to leave the place ather request." Either you must go,orI,"said she:" and prayletit be you.Also this place is unworthy of your

GRIFFITH GAUNT.5highgifts: audIlove you,in my way, the way 1mean to love you when we meet again — inHeaven; andIlabour your advancement to aspheremore worthy7 of you."Iwish space permitted me to lay the wholecorrespondence before the reader; butImustconfine myself to its general purport.It proceeded in this way:the priest, humble,eloquent, pathetic; but gently, y7et pertinaciously,clinging to the place: the lady, gentle, wise, andfirm, detaching with her soft fingers,first one hand,then another, of the poor priest's, till at last hewas driven to the sorry excuse that he had nomoney to travel with,nor place to go to."I can't understand it," said Griffith. "Arethese letters all forged, or are there two KateGa tints? the one that wrote these prudent letters,and the oneIcaught upon this very priest's arm.Perdition!"Mrs. Gaunt started to her feet." Methinks

6 GRIFFITH GAUNT.'tis time for me to leave the room," said she,scarlet." Gently, my goodfriends; one thing ata time,""said Francis. Sit thou down, impetuous. Theletters,sir,'what think you of them ?"" I see no harm in them," said Griffith." No harm!is that all ? ButIsay these arevery remarkable letters, sir: and they show usthat a womanmay be innocent and unsuspicious,and so seem foolish, yet may be wise for all that.Inher early communication with Leonardat Wisdom's gate Suspicion slept;And thought no ill where noill seemed.'But, you see, suspicion being once aroused,wisdom was not to be lulled nor blinded.Butthat is not all:these letters breathe a spirit ofChristian charity;of true,and rare, and exaltedpiety; tender are they, without passion;wise,yet not cold;fidl of conjugal love, and of filialpity for an erring father, whom she leads, for his

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 7good, with firm yet dutiful hand. Trust to raygreatexperience: doubt the chastity of snowrather than hers who could write these pure andexquisite lines.My good friend,you heard merebuke and sneer at this poor lady, for being tooinnocent and unsuspicious of man's frailty: nowhear me own to you thatIcould no more havewritten these angelic letters, than a barn-door fowlcould soar to the mansions of the saints inheaven."This unexpectedtribute took Mrs.Gaunt'sheartby storm; she threw her arms round FatherFrancis's neck, and weptupon his shoulder." Ah!" she sobbed," you are the only one leftthat loves me."She could not understand justicepraising her :it must be love."Ay," said Griffith, in a broken voice, "shewrites like an angel: she speaks like an angel:she looks like an angel.My heart says she is

8 GRIFFITH GAUNT.an angel. But my eyes have shown me she isnaught.Ileft her, unable to walk, by herway of it;Icame back, and found her on thatpriest's arm, springing along, like a greyhound."He buried his head in his hands, aud groanedaloud.Francis turned to Mrs. Gaunt, and said, a littleseverely7, " How do y7ou account for that?"" I'll tell you, Father," said Kate, because youlove me. Ido not speakto you, sir: for y7ouneverloved me."" Icould give thee the lie," said Griffith, in atrembling voice; " but 'tis not worth while.Know, sir, that within twenty-four hours afterIcaught her with that villain,Ilay a dying for hersake;and lost my wits; and, whenIcame to,they were a making my shroudin the very roomwhereIlay. No matter; no matter;Ineverloved her.""Alas! pcor soul!" sighed Kate: "wouldI

GRIFFITH GAUNT.had died ereIbrought thee to that!"9And, withthis, they both began to cry at the same moment." Ay, poor fools," said Father Francis, softly;"neither of ye loved t'other; that is plain.now sit you there, and let us have your explanation;foryou must own appearances are strongagainst you."SoMrs. Gaunt drew her stool to Francis's knee,and addressing herself to himalone, explained asfollows : — ■"I saw Father Leonard w?as giving way, audonly wanted one good push, aftera manner.Well, you knowIhad got him, by my friends, agood place in Ireland:andIhad money by mefor his journey;so, when my husband talked ofgoing to the fair,Ithought, 'Oh ifIcould butget this settled to his mind before he comes back.'SoIwrote a line to Leonard You can readit ifyou like. 'Tis dated the 30th of September,Isuppose."

10 GRIFFITH GAUNT." I will," said Francis: and read this out: —'" Dear Father and Friend, — You havefought the good fight, and conquered. Now,therefore,Iivill see you once more, and thankyou for my husband (lie is so unhappy), and putthe money for your journey into your baudmyself; your journey to Ireland. You are theDuke of Leinster'schaplain; forIhave acceptedthat place for you.Let me see you to-morrowin the Grove, for a few minutes, at high noon.God bless you." Catherine Gaunt."■Well,father," saidMrs. Gaunt, " 'tis true thatIcould only walk two or three times across theroom. But, alack, you know what women are;excitement gives us strength. With thinkingthat our unhappiness was at an end;that, whenhe shouldcome back from the fair,Ishould flingmy arm round his neck, and tell himIhad

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 11removed the cause of his misery, and so of mine,Iseemed to have wings; andIdid walk withLeonard, and talked with rapture of the goodhewas to do in Ireland, and how he was to be amitred abbot one clay (for he is a great man), andpoor little me be proud of him; and how we wereall to bo happy together in heaven, where is nomarrying nor giving in marriage. This was ourdiscourse;andIwas just putting the purse into—his hands,and bidding- liini God-speed, when hefor whomIfought against my woman's nature,and took this trying task upon me — broke inupon us, with a face of a fiend;trampled on thepoor good priest, that deserved veneration andconsolation from him,of all men;and raised hishand to me;and was not man enough to kill meafter all; but called me — ask him what he calledme — see if he dares to say it again before you;and then ranaway,like a coward as he is, fromthe lady he had defiled with his rude tongue, and

12 GRIFFITH GAUNT.the heart he had broken.never will;never;never."Forgive him? thatI"Who asked you to forgive him?" said theshrewd priest." Your own heart. Come, lookat him."" Not I," said she, irresolutely. Then, stillmore feebly: " He is nought to me."stole alook athim.And soGriffith,pale as ashes, had his hand on his brow,and his eyes were fixed with horror and remorse." Something tellsme she has spoken the truth,"he said, in a quavering voice.Then, with concentratedhorror, " But if so — oh God, what haveIdone?— What shallIdo ?"Mrs. Gaunt extended her arms towards himacross the priest." Why, fall at thy wife's knees,and ask her toforgive thee."Griffith obeyed:he fell on his knees, and Mrs.Gauntleaned her head on Francis's shoulder,and

GRIFFITH GAUNT13gave her hand across him to her remorse-strickenhusband.Neither spoke, nor desired to speak; and evenFather Francis sat silent and enjoyed that sweetglow which sometimes blessesevenin this world of wranglesand jars.the peacemaker,But the good soul had ridden hard, and theneglected meats emitted savoury odours, and byand-by-hesaid, drily, " Iwonder whether that fatpullet tastes as well asit smells:canyoutell me,Squire?"" Oh,inhospitable wretch thatIam," said Mrs.Gaunt: " Ithought but of my ownheart."" And forgot the stomach of yrour unspiritualfather. But, madam, you arepale, y7ou tremble."" 'Tisnothing, sir:Ishall soon be better. Sityou down and sup:Iwill return anon."She retired, not to make a fuss; but her heartpalpitated violently, and she had to sit down onthe stairs.

14 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Kyder, who was prowling about, foundherthere,and fetched her hartshorn.Mrs. Gaunt got better;but felt so languid andalso hysterical, that she retired to her own roomfor the night, attended by the faithful Byder, towhom she confidedthat areconciliation had takenplace, and, to celebrate it, gave her a dress shehad only- worn a year. This does not soundqueenly to you ladies; but know that a week'swear tells far more on the flimsy trash you wearnow-a-days, than a y7ear did on the glorious silksof LyonsMrs.Gaunt puton; thick as broad-cloth,and embroidered so cunningly by the loom, thatit would pass for rarest needle-work.those days, silk was sflk.Besides, inAs Byder left her, she asked, " Where is themaster tolie to-night ?"Mrs. Gaunt was not pleased at this questionbeing put to her.Being a singular mixture offrankness and finesse, she had retired to her own

GRIFFITH GAUNT.15room partly to test Griffith's heart. If he wasas sincere as she was, he woidd not be contentwithapublic reconciliation.But the question being put to her plump, andby one of her own sex, she coloured faintly, audsaid, " Why, is there not abed in hisroom?"" Oh yes, madam."" Then seeit be well aired. But clown all thetilings beforecome and see.the sheets and blankets."the fire ; and then tell me;I'llThe feather bed,mind, as well asKyder executed all this with zeal.She didmore: though Griffith and Francis sat up verylate, she sat up too; and, onthe gentlemenleaving the supper-room, she met them both, withbed-candles,in a delightful cap,and undertook.with cordial smiles, to show them both theirchambers."Tread softly on the landing, an if it pleaseyou, gentlemen. My mistress hath been unwell ;

16 GRIFFITH GAUNT.but she is in a fine sleep now, by the blessing, andIwould not have her disturbed."Father Francis went to bed thoughtful. Therewas something about Griffith he did not like: theman every now andthen broke out into boisterousraptures; and presently relapsed into moodythoughtfulness. Francis almost feared that hiscure was only temporary.In the morning, before he left, he drew Mrs.Gaunt aside,and told her his misgivings. Shereplied that she thought she knew what wasamiss, and would soon set that right.Griffith tossed and turnedinhis bed,and spenta stormy night. His mind was in a confusedwhirl,and his heart distracted. The wife he hadloved so tenderly, proved to be the very reverseof all he had lately thought her! She was pureas snow, and had always loved him; loved himnow, and only wanted a good excuse to take him

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 17to her arms again.But Mercy Vint! — his wife,his benefactress!a woman as chaste as Kate, asstrict in life aud morals — what was to become ofher ?How could he tell her she was not hiswife ? how to reveal to her her own calamity, andhis treason? And, on the other hand, desert herwithout a word! and leave her hoping, fearing,pining, all her life! Affection,humanity, gratitude,alike forbade it.He came clown in the morning, pale for him,and worn with the inward struggle.Naturally there was a restraint between himand Mrs. Gaunt; and only short sentences passedbetween them.Ho saw the peacemaker off, and then wanderedall over the premises, and the past came nearer,and the present seemed to retire into the background.He wandered about like one in a dream;and was so self-absorbed, that he did not seeVOL. III.c

18 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Mrs. Gaunt coming towards him with observanteyes.She methimfull;he started like a guilty thing.'"' Are you afraid of me?" said she, sweetly," No, my7 dear, not exactly; and yetIam:afraid,or ashamed, or both."'" Youneed not.IsaidIforgive you; and youknowIam not one that does things by halves."" You are an angel!" said he, warmly; "but(suddenly relapsing into despondency) we shallnever be happy together again."She sighed. " Saynot so. Time andsweet recollectionsmay heal even this wound by degrees.""" God grant it," said he, despairingly." And, though we can't be lovers again all atonce, we may be friends; to begin, tell me, whathave you on your mind ?of me."Come, make a friendHe looked at her in alarm."She smiled. ShallIguess?" said she.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 19" You will never guess," said he;" andIshallnever have the heart to tell you,"" Let me try. Well,Ithink you have run indebt, and are afraid to ask me for the money."Griffith was greatlyrelieved by this conjecture;he drew a long breath:and, after a pause, said,cunningly, " What made you think that?"" Because you came here for money, and notfor happiness. You told me so in the Grove."" That is true. What a sordid wretch youmust think me ?"" No, because you were under a delusion. ButIdo believe you are just the man to turn reckless,when you thought me false, and go drinking anddicing."She added, eagerly, " Ido not suspectyou of anything worse."He assured her that was not the wayofit." Then tell me the way of it. You must notthink, becauseIpester you not with questions,Ihave no curiosity.Oh, how often haveIlongedc 2

20 GRIFFITH GAUNT.to be a bird, andwatch you clay and night unseen.How would you have liked that?had been one, to watch me.answer.Could you have borne so close an inspection,sir?"Iwish youAh, you don'tGriffith shuddered at the idea; and his eyesfell before the full grey orbs of his wife." Well, never mind," said she," tell me yourstory."" Well, then, whenIleftyouIwas raving mad.""That is true,I'llbe sworn."" Ilet my horse go; and he took me near ahundred miles from here,and stopped at — at — afarmhouse. The good people took me in."" God bless them for it. Pll ride and thankthem."" Nay, nay;'tis toofar. ThereIfell sick of afever,a brain-fever: the doctor blooded me."" Alas! would he had taken mine instead.""AndIlost my wits for several days; and

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 21whenIcame backIwas weak aswater, andgiven up by the doctor: and the first thing 1saw, was anold hag set amaking of my shroud."Here the narrative was interrupted a momentby Mrs. Gaunt seizing him convulsively,andthen holding him tenderly, as if he was even nowabout to be taken from her." The goodpeople nursed me, and so did theirdaughter, andIcame back from the grave. Itook an inn;butIgave up that,and had to payforfeit; and so my money all went; but theykept me on. To be sureIhelped on the farm:they kept a hostelry as well. By-and-by camethat murrain among the cattle. Did you have itin these parts too ?"" Iknow not; nor care. Prithee,leave cattle,and talk of thyself."" Well, in a word, they were ruined, and goingto be sold up.Icould not bear that:Ibecamebondsman for the old man.It was the leastI

22 GRIFFITH GAUNT.could do.Kate, they had saved thy husband'slife."" Not a word more, Griffith. How much standyou pledged for?""A large sum."" Would five hundred poundsbe of any avail?""Five hundred pounds!Ay, that it would.and to spare; but where canIget somuchmoney ? And the time so short."" Give me thy hand,and come with me," saidMrs.Gaunt, ardently.She took his hand,and made a swift rush acrossthe lawn.It was not exactly running, norwalking, but some grand motion she had whenexcited.She put him to his stride to keep upwith her at all; and in two minutes she had himinto her boudoir. She unlocked a bureau,allin a"hurry, and took out a bag of gold. There!"she cried, thrustingitinto his hand, and bloomingallover with joy and eagerness: " Ithought you

GRIFFITH GAUNT.would wantmoney; soIsaved it up.23You shallnot be in debt a day longer.Now mount thyhorse, and carryit to those good souls: only, formy sake, take the gardener with thee — Ihave nogroom nowbut he — and both well armed."" What! go this very clay ?"" Ay, this very hour. I can bear thy7absencefor a day or two more;Ihave borne it so long:butIcannot bear thy plighted word to stand indoubt a day, no not an hour. Iam your wife, sir,your true and loving wife; yrour honour is mine,and is as dear to me now as it was when yousaw me with Father Leonard in the Grove, andread meall awry.Don't wait a moment, begoneat once."" Nay, nay, ifIgo to-morrowIshall be intime."" Ay,but," said Mrs. Gaunt, very softly, " Iamafraid ifIkeep you another hourIshall not havethe heart to let you go at all: and the sooner

24 GRIFFITH GAUNT.gone, the sooner back for good, please God.There, give me one kiss, to live on, and begonethis instant."He covered her hands with kisses and tears." I'm not worthy to kiss any7 higher than thyhand,"he said:and so ran sobbing from her.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.25CHAPTEK II.He went straight to the stable, and saddled BlackDick.But, inthe very act,his naturerevolted. What,turnhis back onher the moment he had got holdof her money, to take to the other.do it.He could notHe went back to her room, and came sosuddenly that he caught her crying.He askedher what was the matter." Nothing," said she, with a sigh:" only awoman's foolish misgivings.Iwas afraid perhapsyou would not come back. Forgive me."" No fear of"that," said he. However,Ihave

26 GRIFFITH GAUNT.taken a resolve not to go to-day.IfIgo tomorrow,Ishallbe just in time;and Dick wants agood clay's rest."Mrs. Gaunt said nothing; but her expressiveface was triumphant.Griffith and she took a walk together; and he,who used to be the more genial of the two, wasdull,and she full of animation.This whole day she laid herself out to bewitchher husband,and put him in high spirits.It was uphill work; but, when such a womansets herself in earnest to delight a man, she readsour sex a lesson in the art, that shows us we areall babies atit.However, it was at supper shequered.finally conHere the lights, her beauty set off with art,herdeepening eyes,her satin skin, her happy excitement,her wit and tenderness,and joyous sprightliness,enveloped Griffith in an atmosphere of

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 27delight, and drove everything out of his head butherself: and with this,if the truth must be told,the sparkling wines co-operated.Griffith plied the bottle a little too freely. ButMrs. Gaunt, on this one occasion, had not theheart to check him. The more he toasted her,the more uxorious he became, and she couldnotdeny herself even this joy;but, besides, she hadless of the prudent wife in her just then, than ofthe weak indulgent mother. Anything ratherthan check his love: she wasgreedy of it.At last,however,she said to him, " Sweetheart,Ishall go to bed: for,Isee, ifIstay longer,Ishall lead thee into a debauch. Be good now:drink no more whenIam gone. Else I'll saythoulovest thy bottle more than thy wife."He promised faithfully. But, when she wasgone, modified his pledge by drinking just onebumper to her health : which bumper let inanother:and, when at last he retired to rest, he

28 GRIFFITH GAUNT.was in that state of mental confusion wherein thelimbs appear to have a memory independent ofthe mind.In this condition do some men's hands wind uptheir watches, the mind taking no appreciablepartin the ceremony.By some such act of what physicians call"organic memory," Griffith's feet carried him tothe chamber he had slept in a thousand times.andnot into the one Mrs. Kyder had taken himto the nightbefore.The next morning he came down rather latefor him,and found himself treated with a greataccess of respect by the servants.His position was no longer doubtful;he wasthe master of the house.Mrs.Gaunt followed in due course, and sat atbreakfast with him, looking young and bloomingas Hebe, and her eye neveroff him long.She had lived temperately, and had not yet

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 29passed the age when happiness can restore awoman's beauty and brightnessin a single day.As for him, he was like a man in a heavenlydream: he floated in the past and the present:the recent and the future seemed obscure anddistant, and comparatively in amist-But that same afternoon, after a most affectionatefarewell, and many promises to return as soonas ever he had dischargedhis obligations, GriffithGaunt started for the " Packhorse," to carry to3Iercy Leicester, alias Vint, the money CatherineGaunt had saved by self-denial and economy.And he went south a worseman than he came.When he left Mercy Leicester, he was a bigamistin law,but not at heart.Kate was dead tohim: he had given her up for ever: and wasconstant and true to his new wife.But now he was false to Mercy, yet not true toKate;and, curiously enough,it was a day or two

30 GRIFFITH GAUNT.passed with his lawful wife that had demoralizedhim. His unlawful wife had hitherto done nothingbut improve his character.But a great fault once committed is often thefirst link ina chain of acts, thatlook like crimes,but are, strictly speaking, consequences.This man, blinded at first by his own foible,and, after that, the sport of circumstances, wassingle-heartedby nature;and his conscience wasnot hardened. He desired earnestly to freehimself and both his wives from the cruel situation;but, to do this, one of them he saw mustbe abandoned entirely; and his heart bled forher.A villain or a fool would have relished thesituation; many men would have dallied withit; but, to do this erring manjustice,he writhedand sorrowed under it, and sincerely desired toendit.And this was whyhe prized Kate's money so.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 31It enabled him to render a great service to her hehad injured worse than he had the other, to herhe saw he must abandon.But this wasfeeble comfort after all. He rodealong a miserable man;none the less wretchedand remorseful, that, ere he got into Lancashire,he saw his way clear.This was his resolve: topay old Vint's debts with Kate's money; take the" Packhorse," get it made over to Mercy; giveher the odd two hundred pounds and his jewels,and fly7.He would never see her again: butwould return home, and get the rest of the twothousand pounds from Kate, and send it Mercy bya friend, who should tell her he was dead, andhad left word with his relations to send her allhis substance.At last the "Packhorse" came in sight.Hedrew rein,and had half amind to turn back;but,instead of that, he crawled on,and very sick andcold he felt.

32 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Many a man has marched to the scaffold witha less quaking heart than he to the "Packhorse."His dejection contrasted strangely with thewarm reception he met from everybody there.And the housewas full of women; and theyseemed, somehow, all cock-a-hoop, and filled withadmiration of him." Where is she?" said he, faintly."Hark to the poor soul!" said a gossip." Dame Vint, where's thy daughter ? gone outa-walking belike?"At this the other women present chuckled andclucked."I'll bring you to her," said Mrs. Vint; butprithee be cpriet and reasonable; for to be sureshe is none toostrong."There was some little preparation, and thenGriffith was ushered into Mercy's room, and foundher in bed,looking a little pale, but sweeter and

GRIFFITH GAUNT.33"comelier than ever.She had the bedclothes upto her chin." Youlook wan,my poor lass," said he; " whatails ye ?"" Nought ails me nowthou artcome," saidshe.lovingly.Griffith put the bag on the table." There,"said he, " there's five hundredpounds ingold.come not to thee empty-handed."" NorIto thee," said Mercy, with a heavenly"smile. See!"And she drew down the bedclothes alittle, andshowed the face of a babe scarcely three days old:alittle boy.She turnedin the bed, and tried to holdhim upto his father,and said, "Here's my treasure forthee!"And the effort, the flush on her cheek,and the deep light in her dove-like ey7es, toldplainly that the poor soul thought she hadcontributed to their domestic wealth some-IVOL. III._>

34 GRIFFITH GAUNT.thing far richer than Griffith had with his bag ofgold.The father uttered an ejaculation, and came toher side,and, for a moment, Nature overpoweredeverything else. He kissed the child; he kissedMercy again and again."Now God " be praised for both," said he, passionately;but most for thee, the best wife, thetruest friend ." Here, thinking of her virtues,and the blow he had come to strike her, he brokedown, and was almost choked with emotion;whereupon Mrs. Vint exerted female authority,"and bundled him out of the room. Is that theway to carry on at such a time ?" said she." 'Twas enow to upsether altogether. Oh,but youmenhave little senseinwomen'smatters.Ilookedto you to give her courage,not to set her off intohysterics after amanner. Nay,keep up her heart,or keep your distance, sayI, that am her mother."

GRIFFITH GAUNT.35Griffith took this hint,and ever after took pityon Mercy's weak condition; and, suspending thefatal blow,did all he could to restoreher to healthand spirits.Of course,to do that, he must deceive her; andso his life became alie.For, hitherto, she had never looked forwardmuch;but now her eyes were always diving intofuturity: and she lay7 smilingand discussing theprospects of her boy; and Griffith had to sit byher side,and see her gnaw the boy's hand, andkiss his feet, and anticipate his brilliant career.He had to look and listen with anaching heart,and assent with feigned warmth, and an inwardchfll of horror andremorse.One Drummond, a travelling artist,called; andMercy7, who had often refused to sit to him,consented now; for, she said, when he grows uphe shall know how his parents looked in theiryouth, the very y7ear their darling was born. Sod 2

36 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Griffith had to sit with her,and excellent likenessesthe man produced;but a horrible one ofthe child.And Griffith thought,—" Poor soul;alittle while and this picture will be all that shallbe left to thee of me."For all this time he was actually transactingthe preliminaries of separation. He got a manofJaw to make all sure.The farm, the stock, thefurniture and goodwill of the " Packhorse," allthese he got assigned to Mercy Leicester for herown use, in consideration of three hundred andfifty pounds, whereof three hundred were devotedto clearing the concern of its debts, the odd fiftywas to sweeten the pill to Harry Vint,When the deed came to be executed, Mercywas surprised, and uttered a gentle remonstrance." What haveI to do with it?" said"she. 'Tisthy money, not mine."" No matter," said Griffith; " Ichoose to haveit so."

GRIFFITH GAUNT." Your will is my law," said Mercy.-37" Besides," said Griffith," the old folk will notfeel so sore, nor be afraid of being turned out,ifitisin thy name.""And that is true," said Mercy. "Now whohad thought of that, but my good man?" Andshe threw her arms lovingly round his neck, andgazed on him adoringly.But his lion-hke eyes avoided her dove-likeeyes; and an involuntary shudder ran throughhim.The habit of deceiving Mercy led to a consequencehe had not anticipated. It tightenedthe chain that held him. She opened his eyesmore and more to her deep affection, and hebegan to fear she would die if he abandonedher.And then her present situation was so touching-.She bad borne him a lovely boy: that must beabandoned too,if he left her; and somehow the

38 GRIFFITH GAUNT.birth of this child had embellished the mother; adelicious pink had taken the place of her rusticbloom; and her beauty was more refined anddelicate. So pure, so loving, so fair, so maternal,to wound her heart now,it seemed like stabbingan angel.One day succeeded to another, and still Griffithhad not the heart to carry out his resolve. Hetemporized; he wrote to Kate that he wasdetained by the business; and he stayed on andon, strengthening his gratitude and his affection,and weakeninghis love for the absent, and hisresolution; till, at last, he became so distractedand divided inheart,and so demoralized, that hebegan to give up the idea of abandoningMercy,and babbled to himself about fate and destiny,and decided that the most merciful course wouldbe to deceive both women. Mercy was patient.Mercy was unsuspicious. She would contentherself with occasional visits, if he could only

GRIFFITH GAUNT.39feign some plausible tale to account for longabsences.Before he got into this mess he wasa singularlytruthfulperson; but now a lie was nothing tohim. But, for that matter, many7 a manhas beenfirst made a liar by his connexion with twowomen;and by degrees has carried his mendacityinto other things.However, though now blessed with mendacity,he was cursed with a lack of invention; andsorely " puzzled how to live at Hernshaw, yet visitthe Packhorse."The best thinghe could hit upon was to pretendto turn bagman;and so Mercy would believe hewas travelling all over England, when all thetime he was quietly living atHernshaw.And perhaps these long separations might prepareher heart for a final parting, and solet inhis original plan a few years hence.He prepared this manoeuvre with some art

■10GRIFFITH GAUNT.he told her,one day7, he had been to Lancaster,and there fallenin with a friend, who had as goodas promised him the place of a commercial travellerfor a niercantfle house."A traveller!" said Mercy. "Heaven forbid!If youknew howIwearied for you when you wentto Cumberland.""To Cumberland! How know you Iwentthither ?"" Oh,Ibut guessedthat;but nowIknow it,byyour face.But go where thou wilt, the house isdull directly. Thou art our sunshine. Isn't he,mypoppet?"" Well, well;if it kept metoo long from thee,Icould give it up.But, child, we must think ofyoung master.You could manage the inn, andyour mother the farm, without me;andIshouldbe earning money on my side. ,Iwant to make agentleman of him.""Anything forhim," said Mercy, " anything

GRIFFITH GAUNT.41in the world." But the tears stood in hereyes.In furtherance of this deceit,Griffith did oneday actually ride to Lancaster, and slept there.He wrote to Kate, from that town, to say he wasdetained by a slight illness,but hoped to be homein a week: and the next day brought Mercyhomesome ribbons, and told her he had seen the merchant,and his brother, and they had madehim avery fair offer." But I've a week to think of it,"said he, " so there's no hurry."Mercy fixed her eyes onhimin a very peculiarway,and made no reply. You must know thatsomething very curious had happened whilstGriffith was gone to Lancaster.A travelling pedlar, passing by, was'struck withthe name on the signboard." Halloo!" said he," whyhere's a namesake of mine;I'll havea glassof liis ale any way."So he came into the public room, and called for

42 GRIFFITH GAUNT.a glass; taking care to open his pack and displayhis inviting wares. Harry Vint served him."Here's y7our health," said the pedlar."Youmust drink with me, you must."" And welcome," said the old man." Well," said the pedlar," Ido travel fivecomities;but for all that you arethe first namesakeIhavefound.as sure as you are aliving sinner."Iam Thomas Leicester, too,The old man laughed, and said, " Then nonamesake of mine are you; for they call meHarry Vint.Thomas Leicester, he that keepsthis inn now, is my son-in-law: he is gone toLancaster this morning."The pedlar saidthat was apity,he should haveliked to see his namesake, and drink a glass withhim." Come againto-morrow,"saidHarry Vint,ironically." Dame,"he cried, " comehither. Here's anotherThomasLeicester forye,wantstoseeour one."

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 43Mrs. Vint turned her head, and inspected thepedlar from afar, as if he was some natural curiosity." Where do you come from, young man?" saidshe." Well,I came from Kendal last;butIamCumberland born."" Why, that is where t'other comes from," suggestedPaul Carrick, who was once more a frequenterof thehouse."Like enow7," saidMrs. Vint,With that she dropped the matter as one of noconsequence, and retired.But she wentstraightto Mercy7, in the parlour, and told her there wasa manin the kitchen that called himself ThomasLeicester."Well, mother?" said Mercy, with high indifference,for she was trying newBaby." He comes from Cumberland."socks on King

44 GRIFFITH GAUNT." Well, to be sure, names do runin counties."" That is true; but, seems to me, he favoursyour man:much of aheight, andThere, dojust step into the kitchen amoment."" La, mother," said Mercy," Idon't desire tosee any more Thomas Leicesters than my own:'tis the man, not the name. Isn't it, my lamb ?"Mrs.Vint went back to the kitchen discomfited;but, with quiet pertinacity, she brought ThomasLeicester into the parlour,pack and all." There, Mercy," saidshe, " lay outapenny withthy husband's namesake."Mercy didnot reply, for, at that moment,Thomas Leicester caught sight of Griffith'sportrait, and gave a sudden start, and a mostextraordinary look besides.Both the women'seyeshappened tobe uponhim,and they sawat once thathe knew the original."You know my husband ?" said Mercy Vint,after a while.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 45" Not I," said Leicester, looking askant at thepicture." Don't tell no lies," said Mrs. Vint." You doknow him well."And she pointed her assertionby7 looking at the portrait." Oh,Iknow him,whose picture hangs there,ofcourse," said Leicester." Well, and that is her husband."" Oh, that is her husband,isit?" And he wasunaffectedly puzzled.Mercy turned pale.said she, "andthis is our child." Yes, he is my husband,"Can you tell meanything about him ? for he came a stranger tothese parts. Belike you are akinsmanof his ?"" So they say."This reply puzzledboth women."Any way," said the pedlar, "you see we aremarked alike." And he showed a long blackmole onhis forehead. Mercy was now as curious"as she had been indifferent. Tell me all about

46 GRIFFITH GAUNT.him," said she: " how comes itthat he is a gentlemanandthou apedlar ?"" Well, because my mother was a gipsy, audhis a gentlewoman."" What brought him to these parts?"" Trouble, they say."" What trouble ?""Nay,Iknow not."This after a slight butvisible hesitation." But you have heard say."" Well,I am always on the foot, and don't bidelong enough in one place to learn all the gossip.ButIdo remember hearing he was gone to sea:and that was a lie, for he had settled here, andmarried you.worse.I'fackins, he might have doneHe has got a bonny buxom wife, and ararefine boy, to be sure."And now the pedlarwas on his guard, anddetermined he would not be the one to break upthe household he saw before him, and"afflict the

GRIFFITH GAUNT.47dove-eyed wife and mother.He was a goodnaturedfellow, and averse to make mischief withhis own hands.Besides, he took for grantedGriffith loved his new wife better than the oldone; and above all, the punishment of bigamywas severe, and was it for him to get theSquire indicted,and branded in the hand for afelon ?So the women could get nothing moreout ofhim;he lied, evaded, shuffled, and feigned utterignorance;pleading, adroitly enough, his vagrantlife.All this, however, aroused vague suspicions inMrs. Vint's mind, and shewent and whisperedthem to her favourite, Paul Carrick."And,Paul," said she, " call for what you like, and scoreit to me; only treat this pedlar till he leaks outsummut: to be sure he'll tell a man more thanhe wdlus."Paul entered with zeal into this commission :

48 GRIFFITH GAUNT.treated the pedlar to a chop, and plied him wellwith the best ale.All this failed to loose the pedlar's tongue atthe time, butit muddled his judgment: on resuminghis journey, he gave his entertainer a wink.Carrick rose and followed him out." You seem a decent lad," said the pedlar, " anda good-hearted one.Wilt do mea favour?"Carrick said he would,ifitlay in his power." Oh,it is easy"enow," said the pedlar. 'Tisjust to give yon Thomas Leicester, into his ownhand, this here trifle as soon as ever he comeshome."wrappedin paper.And he handed Carrick ahard substanceCarrick promised." Ay7, ay, lad," said the pedlar, " but see youplay fair, and give it him unbeknown.Nowdon't yrou be so simple as show it to any of thewomen-folk. Dy'e understand ?"" Allright," said Carrick,knowingly. And so thebooncompanions for a day shook hands and parted.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 49And Carrick took the little parcel straight toMrs. Vint, and told her every word the pedlarhad said.AndMrs. Vint took the little parcel straight toMercy, and told her what Carrick said the pedlarhad said.And the pedlar went off flushed with beer and'self-complacency;for he thought he had drawnthe line precisely; had faithfully discharged hispromise to his lady and benefactress,but not soas to make mischief in another household.Such was the power of Ale — in the last century.Mercyundid the paper and found thebullet, onwhich was engraved"I LOVE KATE."Asshe read these words aknife seemed to enterher heart;thepang was so keen.But she soon took herself to task. "ThouVOL. III.E

50 GRIFFITH GAUNT.naughty woman," said she. "What!jealousof thedead?"She wrapped the bullet up; put it carefullyaway;had a good cry; and was herself again.But all this set her watching Griffith,and readinghis face. She had subtle, vague, misgivings;and forbade her mother to mention the pedlar'svisit to Griffith yet awhile. Woman-like, shepreferred to worm out the truth.On the evening of his return from Lancaster,ashe was smoking his pipe, she quietly tested him.She fixed her eyes on him,and said, " One washere to-day that knows thee, and brought theethis." She then handed him the bullet, andwatched his face.Griffith undid the papercarelessly enough;but, at sight of the bullet, uttered a loud cry,and his eyes seemed ready to start out of hishead.He turned as pale as ashes, and stammered,

GRIFFITH GAUNT.51piteously, " What ? what ? what d'ye mean ? InHeaven's name, what is this? How? Who?"Mercy was surprised, but also much concernedat his distress, and tried to soothe him. Shealso asked him, piteously, whether she had done"wrong to give it him. God knows," said she," 'tis no business of mine to go and remind theeof her thou hast loved better mayhap than thoulovest me. But to keep it from thee, and shein her grave, ohIhad not the heart!"But Griffith's agitation increased instead ofdiminishing; and, even while she was trying tosoothe him,he rushed wildly out of the room, andinto the openair.Mercy went,in perplexity and distress, and toldher mother.Mrs. Vint, not being blinded by affection,thought the whole thing had a very ugly look,and said as much. She gave it as her opinionthat this Kate was alive, and had sent theE 2

52 GRIFFITH GAUNT.token herself, to make mischiefbetween manand wife." That shall she never," said Mercy, stoutly;but now her suspicions were thoroughly excited,andher happiness disturbed.The next day Griffith found her in tears: heasked her what was the matter.She would nottell him." You have your secrets," said she: /'and sonowIhave mine."Griffith became very uneasy.For now Mercy was often in tears, and Mrs,Vint looked daggers at him.All this was mysterious, and unintelligible, and,to a gudty man, very alarming.At last he implored Mercy to speak out. Hewanted to know the worst,Then Mercy did speak out. "You have deceivedme," said she. Kate is alive.;"This

GRIFFITH GAUNT.53very morning, between sleeping and waking, youwhispered her name;ay, false man, whispered itlike a lover. You told me she was dead. Butshe is alive; and has sent you a reminder, andthe bare sight of it hath turned your heart herway again. What shallIdo ? Why did youmarry me,if you could not forget her ?want y7ou to desert any woman for me.IdidnotThedesire of my heart was alwaysfor your happiness.But oh, Thomas, deceit and falsehood will notbring you happiness, no more than they will me.What shallIdo ? what shallIdo ?"Her tears flowed freely, and Griffith sat down,and groaned with horror and remorse, beside her.He had not the courage to tell her the horribletruth, that Kate was his wife, and she was not." Do not thou afflict tlryself," he muttered." Of course, with you putting that bullet in myhand so sudden,it set my fancy a wanderingbackto other days."

54 GRIFFITH GAUNT." Ah!" said Mercy," if it be no worse thanthat, there's little harm.But why did thy namesakestart so at sight of thy picture ?"" My namesake !" criedGriffith, all aghast."Ay, he that brought thee that love-token;Thomas Leicester.Nay, for very shame, feignnot ignorance of him; why, he hath thy verymole on his temple, and knew thy picture in amoment. He is thy half-brother,is he not?"" I am aruined man," cried Griffith; and sankinto a chair without power of motion." God help me, what is all this ?" cried Mercy." Oh, Thomas, Thomas,Icould forgive thee oughtbut deceit: for both our sakes speak out, and tellme the worst; no harm shall come near theewhileIlive."" How canItell thee ? Iam anunfortunateman.The world wdl call me a villain;yetIam not a villain at heart.But who will believeme? Ihave broken the law. TheeIcould

GRIFFITH GAUNT.55trust, but not thy folk; they never loved me.Mercy, for pity's sake, when wasthat ThomasLeicester here ?"" Four clays ago."" Which way went he ?"" Ihear he told Paul he was going to Cumberland.""If he gets there before me,Ishall rot ingaol."" Now Heaven forbid! Oh, Thomas, thenmount and ride after him."" Iwill, and this very moment."He saddled Black Dick, and loaded his pistolsfor the journey; but, ere he went, a pale facelooked out into the yard, and a finger beckoned.It was Mercy.She bade him follow her. Shetook him to her room, where then- child wassleeping; and then she closed,and even lockedthe door." No soul can hear us," said she; " now, look

56 GRIFFITH GAUNT.me in the face, and tell me God's truth.and what are you ?"WhoGriffith shuddered at this exordium; he madeno reply.Mercy went to a box, and took out an oldshirt of his; the one he wore when he first cameto the " Packhorse."She brought it to him andshowed him " G. G." embroidered on it with awoman's hair. (Ryder's.)" Here are yTour initials,"said she; " now leaveuseless falsehoods; be a man, and tell me y7ourreal name."" Mynameis Griffith Gaunt."" Mercy7, sick at heart, turned her head away;but she had the resolution to urge him"on. Goon," said she, in an agonized whisper: " if youbelieve in God, and a judgment to come, deceiveme no more.The truth!Isay: thetruth!"" So be it," said Griffith, desperately:" when

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 57Ihave told thee what a villainIam,Ican die atthy7 feet, and then thou wilt forgiveme."" Who is Kate?" was all she replied." Kate is— my wife."" Ithought her false; who could think anyother;appearances were so strong against her:others thought so beside me. Iraised mv handto kill her; but she never winced.Itrampledon himIbelieved her paramour:Ifled, and soonIlay a dy-ing in this house for her sake.Itoldthee she w-as dead. Alas!Ithought her dead tome. Iwent back to our house (it is her house)sore against the grain, to get money for thee andthine. Then she cleared herself, bright as thesun,and pure as snow. She was allin black forme; she had put by money, against 1 shouldcome to my7 senses and needit.Itold herIoweda debt in Lancashire,a debt of gratitude as wellas money:and soIdid. How haveIrepaid it?

58 GRIFFITH GAUNT.The poor soul forced five hundred pounds on me.Ihad much ado to keep her from bringing ithither with her own hands;oh, villain! villain!ThenIthought to leave thee, and send thee wordIwas dead; and heap money on thee. Money!But how couldI? Thou wast my benefactress,my more than wife. All the riches of the worldcanmake no return to thee. What, what shallIdo ? ShallIfly with thee and thy child acrossthe seas ? ShallIgo back toher ? No, the bestthingIcan do is to take this good pistol, and letthe life out of my dishonourable carcass, and freetwo honest womenfromme by oneresolute act."In his despair he cocked the pistol; and, ata word from Mercy7, this tale had ended.But the poor woman, pale and trembling,tottered across the room, and took it out of his"hand. Iwould not harm 'thy body, nor thy"soul," she gasped. Let me draw my breath,and think."

GRIFFITH GAUNT.59She rocked herself to and fro in silence.Griffith stood trembling like a criminal beforehis judge.It was long ere she could speak, for anguish.Yet when she did speak, it was with a sort ofdeadlycalm." Gotell the truth to her, as you have done tome:and,if she can forgive y7ou, all the better foryrou.Ican never forgive you,nor yet canharmyou. My child, my child! Thyfather is our ruin.Oh begone, man, or the sight of you willkill usboth."" At that he fell at her knees;kissed,and weptover her cold hand, and, in his pity and despair,offered to cross the seas with her and her child,and so repair the wronghe had clone her." Tempt me not," she sobbed." Go :leave me.None here shall ever know thy crime, but shewhose heart thou hast broken, and ruined hergood name."

60 GRIFFITH GAUNT.He took her in his arms, in spite of her resistance,and kissed her passionately;but, for thefirst time, she shuddered at his embrace, and thatgave him the power to leave her.He rushed from her, all but distracted, androde away to Cumberland; but not to tell thetruth to Kate, if he could possibly help it.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 61CHAPTERIII.At this particular time, no man's presence wasmore desired in that county than GriffithGaunt's.And thisIneed not now be telling the reader,ifIhad related this story on the plan of a miscellaneouschronicle. But the affairs of the heartare so absorbing, that, evenin a narrative,theythrust aside important circumstances of a lessmoving kind.Imust therefore go back a step, beforeIadvancefurther. You must know that forty yearsbefore our Griffith Gaunt saw the light, anotherGriffith Gaunt was born in Cumberland: a

62 GRIFFITH GAUNT.younger son, and the family estate entailed; buta shrewd lad, who chose rather to hunt fortuneelsewhere, than to live- in miserable dependenceon his elder brother. His godfather, a citymerchant, encouraged him,and he left Cumberland.He went into commerce, and in twentyyears became a wealthyman, so wealthy that holived to look down onhis brother's estate, whichhe had once thought opulence. Hislife wasallprosperity, with a single exception; but that abitter one.He laid out some of his funds in afashionable and beautiful wife.He loved herbefore marriage: and, as she was always cold tohim, he loved her more and more.In the second year of their marriage she ranaway from him; and no beggar in the streets ofLondon was so miserable asthe wealthy merchant.It blightedtheman,and left himasore heartallhis days. He never married again; and railed on

GRIFFITH GAUNT.63all womankind for this one.He led a solitarylife in London till he was sixty-nine; and then,all of a sudden, Nature, or accident, or both,changed his whole habits.Word came to himthat the family estate, already deeply mortgaged,was for sale, and a farmer who had rented aprincipal farm on it,and held a heavymortgage,had made the highest offer.Old Griffith sent down Mr. Atkins, his solicitor,post haste, and snapped the estate out of thatpurchaser's hands.When the lands and house had been dulyconveyed to him, he came down, and his heartseemed to bud again, in the scenes of his chfldhood.Finding the house small, and Duilt in a valleyinstead of on rising ground, he got an army ofbricklayers, and began to build a mansion with arapidity unheard of in those parts; and he lookedabout for some one to inherit it.

64 GRIFFITH GAUNT.The name of Gaunt had dwindled down tothree since he left Cumberland; but a rich mannever lacks relations. Featherstonhaugbs, andUnderbills, and even Smiths, poured in, withparish registers in their laps, and proved themselvesGauntesses; and flattered and carneyedthe new headof the family.Then the perverse old gentleman felt inclinedto look elsewhere. He knew he had a namesakeat the other side of the county,but this namesakedid not come nearhim.This independent Gaunt excited his curiosityand interest. He made inquiries, and heard thatyoung Griffith had just quarrelled with his wife,and gone awayin despair.Griffith senior took for granted that the faultlay with Mrs. Gaunt, and wasted some goodsympathy on Griffith junior.On further inquiry he learnt that the truantwas dependent on his wife.Then, argued the

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 65moneyedman, he would not run away from her,but that his wound was deep.The consequence of all this was, thathe made awill very favourable to his absent and injured (?)namesake. He left numerous bequests; butmade Griffith his residuary legatee; and havingsettled this matter,urged on, and superintendedhis workmen.Alas! just as the roof was going on, a narrowerhouse claimed him, —and he made good the sayingof the wise bard■Tu secanda marmoraLoeas sub ipsum funus et sepulchriImmemor struis domos.The heir of his own choosing could not befound to attend his funeral; andMr. Atkins, hissolicitor,a very worthy man, was really hurt atthis. With the quiet bitterness of a displeasedattorney, he merely sent Mrs. Gaunt word herhusband inherited something under the will, andvol.m.F

66 GRIFFITH GAUNT.she would do well to produce him,or else fumishhim (Atkins) withproof of his decease.|Mrs. Gaunt was offended by this cavalier note,and replied very hke a woman, and very unlikeBusiness." Ido not know where he is," said she," norwhether he is alive or dead. Nor doIfeeldisposed to raise the hue and cry after him.But, favour me with your address, andIshalllet you know shouldIhearhim."anything aboutMr. Atkins was half annoyed,half amused, atthis piece of indifference.It never occurred tohim thatit might be allput on.He wrote back to say that the estate was large,and,owing to the terms of the will, could not beadministered without Mr. Griffith Gaunt; and,in the interest of the said Griffith Gaunt, and alsoof the other legatees, he really must advertisefor him.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 67La Gaunt replied that he was very welcome toadvertise for whomsoever he pleased.Mr. Atkins was a very worthy man; buthuman. Totell the truth, he was himself one ofthe other legatees. He inherited (and, tobe just,had well deserved,) four thousand guineas,underthe will, and could not legally touch it withoutGriffith Gaunt. This little circumstance spurredhisprofessional zeal.Mr.Atkins advertised for Griffith Gaunt,in theLondon and Cumberland papers, and in the usualenticing form. He was to apply to Mr. Atkins,Solicitor, of Gray's Inn, and he would hear ofsomethinggreatly to his advantage.These advertisements had not been out a fortnight,when Griffith came home, as Ihaverelated.But Mr. Atkins had punished Mrs. Gaunt forher insouciance, by not informing her of theextent of her good fortune; so she merely toldf 2

68 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Griffith, casually, that old Griffith Gaunt had lefthim some money, and the solicitor, Mr. Atkins,could not get on without him.Even this informationshe did not vouchsafe until she hadgiven him her 500?., for she grudged Atkins thepleasure of supplyingher husband with money.However, as soonas Griffith left her, she wroteto Mr.Atkins to say that her husband had comehome in perfect health, thank God; had onlystayed two days, but was to return ina week.f When ten days had elapsed, Atkins wrote toinquire.She replied he had not yet returned:and thiswent on till Mr. Atkins showed considerable impatience.As for Mrs. Gaunt, she made light of thematter to Mr. Atkins;but, in truth, this newmystery irritated her and pained her deeply.In onerespect she was more unhappy than shehad been before he cameback at all. Then she

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 69was alone;her door was closed to commentators.But now, on the strength of so happy a reconciliation,she had re-entered the world, andreceived visits from Sir George Neville, andothers; and,above all,hadannounced thatGriffithwould be back for goodin a few days. So nowhis continued absence exposed her to sly questionsfrom her own sex, to the interchange of glancesbetween female visitors, as well as to the internaltorture of doubt andsuspense.f But what distracted her most, was the viewMrs.Kyder took of the matter.That experienced lady had begun to suspectsome other womanwas at the bottom of Griffith'sconduct:and her own love for Griffith was nowsoured; repeated disappointments and affronts,spretæque injuria formæ, had not quite extinguishedit, but had mixed so much spite with it,that she was equally ready to kiss or to stab him.So she took every opportunity to instil into her

70 GRIFFITH GAUNT.mistress, whose confidence she had won at last,that Griffith was false to her." That is the way with these men that are soready to suspect others.Take my word for it,Dame, he has carried your money to his leman.'Tis still the honest woman that must bleed forsome nasty trollop or other."She enforced this theory by examples drawnfrom her own observations in families,and gavethe very names; and drove Mrs. Gaunt almostmad withfear,'anger, jealousy,and cruel suspense.She could not sleep, she could not eat; she was ina constant fever.Yet before the world she battled it out bravely,andindeednone but Ryder knew the anguish ofher spirit, and her passionate wrath.At last there came a most eventful day.Mrs. Gaunt had summoned all her pride andfortitude,andinvited certain ladies and gentlemento dine andsup.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 71She was one of the true Spartan breed, andplayed the hostess as well as if her heart hadbeen at ease. It was an age in which the hoststruggled fiercely to entertain the guests; andMrs. Gaunt was taxing all her powers of pleasingin the dining-room, when an unexpected gueststrolled into the kitchen.Leicester.The pedlar, ThomasJane welcomed him cordially, and he was soonseated at a table eating his share of the feast.Presently Mrs. Ryder came down, dressed inher best, and looking handsomer than ever.At sight of her, Tom Leicester'saffectionrevived;and he soon took occasion to whisper aninquiry whether she was still single." Ay," said she," andlike tobe."" Waiting for the master still ? MayhapIcould cure you of that complaint.But least saidis soonest mended."This mysterious hint showed Ryder he had a

72 GRIFFITH GAUNT.secret burning his bosom.The sly hussy saidnothing just then, but plied him with ale andflattery; and, when he whispered a request for aprivate meeting out of doors, she cast her eyesdown, and assented.And in that meeting she carried herself soadroitly, that he renewed his offer of marriage,and told her not to wasteher fancy on a man whocaredneither for her nor any other she in Cumberland."Prove that to me," said Ryder, cunningly,'"' and may beI'll take you at your word."The bribe was not to be resisted. Tomrevealed to her, under a solemn promise ofsecrecy, that the SquireJiad got a wife and chddin Lancashire; and had a farm and an inn, whichlatter he kept, under the name of — ThomasLeicester.In short, he told her, in his way, all the particularsIhavetold in mine.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.73She led him on with a voice of very velvet.He did not see how her cheek paled and her eyesflashed jealous fury.When she had sucked him dry, she suddenlyturned on him, with a cold voice, and said, " Ican't stay any longer with you just now.She willwant me."" You will meet mehere again,lass ?" said Tom,ruefully." Yes, for aminute, after supper.'She then left him and went to Mrs. Gaunt'sroom, and sat crouching before the fire, all hateandbitterness.What ? he had left the wife he loved, and yethad not turned to her!She sat there, waiting for Mrs. Gaunt, andnursing her vindictive fury, two mortal hours.Atlast, just before supper, Mrs. Gaunt came upto her room, to cool her fevered hands and brow,and found this creature crouched by her fire, all

74 GRIFFITH GAUNT,in a heap, with pale cheek, and black eyes thatglitteredlike basisisk's." What is the matter, child?" saidMrs. Gaunt." Good Heavens! what hath happened?"" Dame!" said Ryder,sternly," Ihave got newsof him.""News of him?" faltered Mrs. Gaunt."Badnews?"" Idon't know whether to tell you or not," saidRyder, sulkily,but witha touch of human feeling." What cannotIbear ? What haveI notborne ?Tell me the truth."The words were stout,but she trembled all overinuttering them." Well,it is as Isaid; only worse. Dame, hehas got a wife and child in another county ; andno doubt beendeceivingher, as he has us."" A wife!" gasped Mrs. Gaunt, and one whitehandclutched her bosom, and theother themantelpiece.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.75" Ay, Thomas Leicester, that is in the kitchennow, saw her, and saw his picture hanging asidehers on the wall. And he goes by the name ofThomas Leicester:that was what made Tom gointo the inn, seeing his own name on the signboard.Nay,Dame,never give waylike that,leanon me; so. He is a villain, a false, jealous,double-faced villain."Mrs.Gaunt's headfell on Ryder's shoulder, andshe said no word; but only moaned and moaned,and her white teeth clicked convulsively together.Ryder wept over her sad state: the tears werehalf impulse, half crocodile.She applied hartshorn to the sufferer's nostrils,and tried to rouse her mind by exciting heranger. But all was in vain. There hung thebetrayed wife, pale, crushed,and quivering underthe cruel blow.Ryder asked her if she should go down andexcuse her to her guests.

76 GRIFFITH GAUNT.She nodded a feeble assent.Ryder then laid her down on the bed with herhead low, and was just about to leave her on thaterrand, when hurried steps were heard outside thedoor, and one of the female servants knocked;aud,not waiting to be invited,put her head in,and " cried, Oh,Dame, the Master is come home.He isin the kitchen."

GRIFFITH GAUNT.77CHAPTER IV.Mrs. Ryder made an agitated motion with herhand,and gave the girl such a look withal, thatshe retired precipitately.But Mrs. Gaunt had caught the words,and theyliterally transformed her.She sprang off the bed,and stood erect, and looked a Saxon Pythoness:golden hair streaming down her back and greyeyes gleaming with fury.She caught up a little ivory-handled knife, andheldit above her head." I'll drive this into his heart before them all,"she cried, " and tell them the reason afterwards !"Ryderlooked at her foramoment in utter terror.

78 GRIFFITH GAUNT.She saw a woman with grander passionsthanherself: a woman that looked quite capable ofexecuting her sanguinary threat.Ryder madeno more ado, but slipped out directly to preventa meeting that might be attended with suchterrible consequences.She found her master in the kitchen, splashedwith mud, drinking a horn of ale after his ride,and looking rather troubled and anxious; and,by the keen eye of her sex, she sawthat thefemale servants were also in considerable anxiety.The fact is they had just extemporizedalie.Tom Leicester being near the kitchen window,had seen Griffith ride into the court-yard.At sight of that well-known figure, he drewback, andhis heart quaked at his own imprudence,in confiding Griffith's secret to Caroline Ryder." Lasses," said he, hastily, " do me a kindnessfor old acquaintance. Here's the Squire. Forheaven's sake don't let him knowIam in the

GRIFFITH GAUNT.79house,or there will be bloodshed between us; heis a hasty man, and I'm another. Ill tell yemoreby and by."The next moment Griffith's tread was heardapproaching the very door, and Leicester dartedinto thehousekeeper's room, andhidin a cupboardthere.Griffith opened the kitchen door, and stoodupon the threshold.The women curtseyed to him,and were loudinwelcome.He returned their civilities briefly ;and thenhis first word was — " Hath Thomas Leicester beenhere?"You know how servants stick togetheragainsttheir master. The girls looked him in the face,like candid doves, and told him Leicester hadnotbeen that way for six months or more.Why,Ihave tracked him to within two miles,"said Griffith, doubtfully.

80 GRIFFITH GAUNT." Then he is sure to come here," said Jane,"adroitly. He wouldn't ever think to go by us."" The moment he enters the house youlet meknow.He is amischief-making loon."He then asked for a horn of ale; and, as hefinished it, Ryder came in, and he turned to her,and asked her after her mistress." She is well,just now," said Ryder;" but shehasbeen took with a spasm:_ andit would be well,sir,if youcould dress, and entertain the companyin her place awhile.ForImust tell you yourbeing so long away hath set their tongues going,and almost broken my lady's heart."Griffith sighed, and said he could not help it,and now he was here,he would do allinhis powerto please her.I'llgo toher at once," said he."No, sir!" said Ryder, firmly.me.Iwant to speak to you.""Come withShe took him tohis bachelor's room, and stayeda few minutes to talk to him.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.81" Master," said she, solemnly;" things arevery serioushere. Why did you staysolongaway ?OurDame says some woman is at the bottom ofit,and she'll put aknife into youif you come anighher."This threat did not appal Griffith, as Ryderexpected. Indeed, he seemed rather flattered." Poor Kate!" said he," she is just the womanto do it. ButIam afraid she does not love meenough for that."Well, sir," repliedBut indeed how should she?"Ryder, "oblige me bykeeping clear of her for a little while.got orders to make your bed here.IhaveNow, dress,like a good soul, and then go down and showrespect to the company that is in your house; forthey know you are here."" Why, thatis the leastIcan do," said Griffith." Put you out what Iam to wear, and then runand sayI'llbe with them anon."Griffith walked into the dining-room, and,VOL.III.g

82 GRIFFITH GAUNT.somewhat to his surprise, after what Ryder hadsaid, found -Irs. Gaunt seated at the head of herown table, andpresiding like a radiant queen overa brilliant assembly.He walked in, and made a low bow to hisguests first: then he approached, to greethis wifemore freely; but she drew back decidedly, andmade him a curtsy, the dignity and distance ofwhich struck the whole company.Sir George Neville, who was at the bottom ofthe table, proposed, with his usual courtesy, toresign his place to Griffith.But Mrs. Gauntforbade the arrangement."No, Sir George," said she, "this is but anoccasional visitor:you are my constant friend."If this hadbeen said pleasantly, well and good;but the guests looked in vaininto their hostess'sface for the smile that ought to haveaccompaniedso strange a speech and disarmed it." Rarities are the more welcome," said a lady,

GRIFFITH GAUNT.83coming to the rescue; and edged aside to makeroom for him."Madam," said Griffith, "I am in your debtfor that explanation;butIhope you will be norarity here, for all that."Supper proceeded;but the mirth languished.Somehow or other, the chill fact that there was agrave quarrel between two at the table, and thosetwo man and wife, insinuated itself into the spiritsof the guests.There began to be lulls: fatal lulls.Andinone of these, some unlucky voice was heard tomurmur, "Such a meeting of man and wife,Inever saw."The hearers felt miserable at this personality,that fell upon the ear of SUence like a thunderbolt.Griffith was ill-advised enough to notice theremark, though clearly not intended for his ears.For one thing, his jealousy had actuallyrevivedG 2

84 GRIFFITH GAUNT.at the cool preference Kate had shown his oldrival,Neville." Oh!" said he, bitterly," a man is not alwayshis wife's favourite."" He does not always deserve to be," said Mrs.Gaunt,sternly.When matters had gone that length, one ideaseemed to occur pretty simultaneously to all thewell-bredguests:and thatidea was,Sauve quipeut.Mrs. Gaunt took leave of them,one by one,andhusband and wife wereleft alone.Mrs. Gaunt by this time was alarmed at theviolence of her own passions, and wished to avoidGriffith for thatnight at all events.So she castone terribly stern look upon him,and was aboutto retire in grim silence.But he, indignant atthe public affront she had put on him, and notaware of the true cause, unfortunately detainedher. He said, sulkily, " What sort of a receptionwas that yougave me?"

GRIFFITH GAUNT.85This was too much. She turned on him"furiously. Too good for thee, thou heartlesscreature! Thomas Leicester is here, audIknowthee for a villain."" You know nothing," cried Griffith." Wouldyou believe thatmischief-making knave ?Whathas he told you?"" Go back to her !" cried Mrs. Gaunt furiously." Me you can deceive and pillage no more. So,this was yourjealousy! False and forswornyourself, you dared to suspect and insult me.Ah! and you thinkIam the woman to endurethis ?I'llhave yourlife forit!I'llhave yourlife."Griffith endeavoured to soften her;protestedthat, notwithstanding appearances, he had neverloved but her." I'llsoon be rid of you, and your love," said"the raging woman. The constables shall comefor you to-morrow.You have seen howIcanlove, youshall know howIcan hate."

86 GRIFFITH GAUNT.She then,in her fury, poured out a torrent ofreproaches and threats that made his blood runcold. He could not answer her: he had suspectedher wrongfully, and been false to herhimself. He had abused her generosity, andtaken her money for Mercy Vint.After one or two vain efforts to check thetorrent, he sank into a chair,and hid his face inhis hands.But this did not disarm her, at the time. Herraging voice and raging words wereheard by thevery servants, long after he had ceased to defendhimself.At last she came out, pale with fury, andfinding Ryder near the door, shrieked " out, Takethatreptile to his den, if he is mean enough tolie inthis house :" then,lowering her voice, " andbring Thomas Leicester to me."Ryder went to Leicester, and told him. But heobjected to come. "You have betrayed me,"

GRIFFITH GAUNT.87said he." Curse my weak heart, and my loosetongue.Ihave done the poor Squire anill turn.Ican never look him in the face again.all thy fault, double-face.thee."But 'tisIhate the sight ofAt this Ryder shed some crocodile tears; andvery soon, by her blandishments, obtainedforgiveness.And Leicester, since the mischief was done,was persuaded to see the Dame, who wasrecent benefactor, you know.hisHe bargained,however, that the Squire should be got to bedfirst, for he had a great dread of meeting him." He'llbreak eveiy bone in my skin," said Tom;" or elseIshall do hima mischief in mydefence."Ryder herself saw the wisdomof this: shebade him stay quiet, and she went to look afterGriffith.She found him in the drawing-room, with hishead on the table,in deep dejection.

88 GRIFFITH GAUNTbed.She assumed authority, and said he must go toHe rose humbly, and followed her like asubmissive do

GRIFFITH GAUNT.89shall trouble neither long.Iam not so ill a manasIseem; but who will believe that ?not live long.IshallAndIshall leave an ill namebehind me. She told me so just now7. And, oh,her eye was so cruel;Isawmy death in it."" Come, come," said Ryder,relenting a little," you mustn't believe every word an angry womansays.There, take my advice; go to bed;and inthe morning don't speak to her;keep out of herway a day or two."And with this piece of friendly advice she lefthim;and waited about till she thoughthe was inbed and asleep.Then she brought Thomas Leicester up to hermistress.But Griffith was not in bed; and he heardLeicester's heavy tread cross the landing. Hewaitedand waited behind his door for more thanhalf an hour,and then he heard the same heavytread go away again.

90 GRIFFITH GAUNT.By this time nearly all the inmates of the housewere asleep.About twenty-five minutes after Leicester leftMrs. Gaunt, Caroline Ryder stole quietly upstairsfrom the kitchen; and sat down to thinkit all over.She then proceeded to undress: but had onlytaken off her gown, when she started andlistened; for a cry of distress reached her fromoutside the house.She darted to the window and threw itopen."Then she heard a cry more distinct. Help!help !"It was a clear starlight night, but no moon.The mere shone before her, and the cries wereon the bank.Now came something more alarming still. Aflash: a pistol shot: and an agonized voice criedloudly, " Murder!Help!Murder !"That voice she knew directly. It was GriffithGaunt's.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 91CHAPTER V.Ryder ran screaming, and alarmed the otherservants.All the windows that looked on the mere werehung open.But no more sounds were heard. A terriblesilence brooded now over those clear waters.The female servants huddled together, andquaked; for who could doubt that abloody deedhad been done ?It was some time before they mustered thepresence of mind to go and tell Mrs. Gaunt. Atlast they opened her door. She was not in herroom.

92 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Ryder ran to Griffith's.She called to him.It was locked.He made no reply.They burst the door open. He was not there:and the window was open.While their tongues were all going, in consternation,Mrs.Gaunt was suddenly among them,very pale.They turned, and looked at her aghast." What"means all this ?" said she. DidInothear cries outside ?"" Ay," said Ryder:" Murder ! and a pistolfired.Oh, my poor master!"Mrs. Gaunt was white as death; but selfpossessed."Light torches this moment, andsearch the place," said she.There was only one man in the house, and hedeclined to go out alone.So Ryder and Mrs.Gaunt went with him, all three bearing lightedlinks.They searched the place where Ryder had

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 93neard the cries.They went up and down thewhole bank of the mere, and cast their torches'red light over the placid waters themselves.Butthere was nothing to be seen,alive or dead; notrace either of calamity or crime.They roused the neighbours, and came back tothe house with their clothes all draggled anddirty.Mrs. Gaunt took Ryder apart, and asked her ifshe could guessat what time of the night Griffithhad made his escape."He is a villain,"said she, "yetIwould nothave him come to harm, God knows.thieves abroad.There areButIhope he ran awayas soonas your back was turned, and so fell not in withthem.""Humph!" said Ryder.Then, looking Mrs.Gaunt in the face, she said,quietly, " Where wereyou when you heard the cries ?"" Iwas on the other side of the house."

94 GRIFFITH GAUNT." What, out o'doors, at that time of night!"" Ay;Iwas in the grove. Praying."" Did you hear any voice youknew ?"" No:all was too indistinct. Iheard a pistol,but no words. Did you?"" I heard no more than you, madam," saidRyder, trembling.No one went to bed any more that night inHernshaw Castle.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.95CHAPTER VI.This mysterious circumstance made a great talkin the village, and in the kitchen of HernshawCastle; but not in the drawing-room: for Mrs.Gauntinstantly closed her door to visitors,and letit be known thatit washer intention to retire to aconvent; and, in the meantime, she desired notto be disturbed.Ryder made one or two attempts to draw herout upon the subject,but was sternly checked.Pale, gloomy, and silent, the mistress ofHernshaw Castle moved about the place like theghost of her former self. She never mentionedGriffith; forbade his name to be uttered in her

96 GRIFFITH GAUNT.hearing; and, strange to say, gave Ryder strictorders not to tell any one what she had heardfrom Thomas Leicester." This last insult is known but to you and me.If it ever gets abroad, you leave my service thatvery hour."This injunction set Ryder thinking.However,she obeyed itto the letter. Her place was gettingbetter and better; and she was a woman accustomedto keep secrets.A pressing letter came from Mr.Atkins.Mrs. Gaunt repliedthat her husband had cometo Hernshaw, but had left again;and the periodof his ultimate return Avas now more uncertainthan ever.On this Mr. Atkins came down to HernshawCastle.But Mrs. Gaunt would not see him.He retired very angry;and renewed his advertisements,but in a more explicit form.He nowpublished that Griffith Gaunt,of Hernshaw and

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 97Bolton, was executor and residuary legatee to thelateGriffith Gaunt,of Coggleswade:andrequestedhim to apply directly to James Atkins, Solicitor,of Gray's Inn,London.In due course this advertisement wasread bythe servants at Hernshaw; and shown, by Ryder,toMrs.Gaunt.She made no commentwhatever; and contrivedtorender her pale face impenetrable.'Ryder became as silent and thoughtful as herself,and often sat bending her blackbrows.judicialBy-aud-by dark mysterious words began to bethrown out in Hernshaw village."He will never come back at all.""He will never come into that fortune."" 'Tis no useadvertising for a man that is pastreading."These,and the like equivocal sayings, werefol-VOL. III.H

98 GRIFFITH GAUNT.lowed by a vague buzz, which was traceable to noindividual author, but seemed to rise on all sides,like a dark mist, and envelope that unhappyhouse.And that dark mist of Rumour soon condenseditself intoapalpable and terrible whisper, " GriffithGaunt hath met with foul play."No one of the servants told Mrs. Gaunt thishorrid rumour.But the women used to look at her, and afterher, withstrange eyes.She noticed this, and felt, somehow, that herpeople were falling away from her. It added onedrop to her bitter cup. She began to droop intoa sort of calm despondent lethargy.Then came fresh trouble to rouse her.Two of the county magistrates called on her intheir official capacity, and, with perfect politeness,but a very grave air, requested her to inform

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 99them of all the circumstances attending her husband'sdisappearance.She replied, coldly and curtly, that she knewvery little about it. Her husband had left in themiddle of the night," He came to stay?"" Ibelieve so."" Came on horseback ?"" Yes."" Did he go away on horseback ?"" No:for the horse is nowinmy stable."" Is it true there was a quarrel between youand him that evening?"" Gentlemen," saidMrs. Gaunt, drawing herselfback, haughtily, "did you come here to gratifyyour curiosity ?""No, madam," said the elder of the two; " butto discharge a very serious and painful duty, inwhichIearnestly request you, and even adviseyou,to aid us.Was there a quarrel?"H 2

100 GRIFFITH GAUNT." There was — a mortal quarrel."The gentlemen exchanged glances and theelder made a note." Slay we ask the subject of that quarrel ?"Mrs. Gaunt declined, positively, to enter intoa matter sodelicate.A note was taken of this refusal" Are you aware, madam, that your husband'svoice was heard calling for help, and that a pistolshotwas fired ?"Mrs.Gaunt trembled visibly." Iheard the pistol shot," said she, " but not thevoice distinctly.Oh,Ihope it was not his voiceRyder heard."" Ryder, who is he ?"" Ryder is my lady's-maid: her bedroom is onthat side the house."" Can we see Mrs. Ryder ?"" Certainly," said Mrs. Gaunt, and rose andrang the bell.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.101Mrs. Ryder answered the bell,in person, verypromptly; for she washstening at the door.Being questioned, she told the magistrates whatshe had heard down by " the mere ;" and said shewas sure it was her master's voice that cried"Help!" and "Murder!" And with this shebegan to cry.Mrs. Gaunt trembled and turned pale,The magistrates confined their questions toRyder.her.They elicited, however, very little more fromShe saw the drift of their questions, andhad an impulse to defend her mistress there present.Behind her back it would have been otherwise.That resolution once taken, two children mightas wellhave tried to extract evidence from her astwo justices of the peace.And then Mrs. Gaunt's pale face and noblefeatures touched them.The case was mysterious,

102 GRIFFITH GAUNT.but no more; and they departed little the wiserand with some apologies for the trouble they hadgivenher.The next week down came Mr.Atkins out ofall patience,and determined tofind Griffith Gaunt,or else obtain some proof of his decease.He obtained two interviews with Ryder, andbribed her to tell him allsheknew. Heprosecutedother inquiries with more method than hadhitherto been used, and elicited animportant fact,viz., that Griffith Gaunt had been seen walkingina certain direction at one o'clock in the morning,followed at a short distance by a tall man with aknapsack, or the like,on his back.The person who gave this tardy information wasthe wife of a certain farmer's man, who wiredhares upon the sly.The man himself, beingassured that, in a case so serious as this,no particularinquiries should be made howhe came tobe out so late, confirmed what his wife had let

GRIFFITH GAUNT.103out, and added that both menhad taken the waythat would lead them to the bridge, meaning thebridge over the mere.More than that he couldnot say, for he had met them, and was full halfamile from themere, before those mencould havereached it.Following up this clue, Mr. Atkins learned somanyugly things, that he went to the Bench onjusticing clay, and demanded a fulland searchinginquiryon the premises.Sir George Neville, after in vain opposing this,rode off straight from the Bench to Hernshaw,and in feeling terms conveyed the bad news toMrs.Gaunt; and then, with the utmost delicacy,let her know that some suspicion rested uponherself, which she would do well to meet withthe bold front of innocence." What suspicion, pray ?" said Mrs. Gaunt,haughtily.Sir George shrugged his shoulders,and replied,

104 GRIFFITH GAUNT." That you have done Gaunt the honour — to puthim out of the way."Mrs. Gaunt tookwhat Sir Georgeexpected.this very differently from"What!" she cried, "are they so sure he isdead? murdered!"Aud with this,she went into a passion of griefand remorse.Even Sir George waspuzzled,as wellas affected,by her convulsive agitation.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.105CHAPTER VII.Though it was known the proposedinquiry mightresult in the committal of Mrs. Gaunt on a chargeof murder, yet the respect in which she hadhitherto beenheld,and theinfluence of Sir GeorgeNeville, who having been her lover, stoutlymaintained her innocence, prevailed so far, thateven this inquiry was private, and at her ownhouse. Only she waspresent in the character ofa suspected person, and the witnesses were examinedbefore her.First, the poacher gave his evidence.Then, Jane the cook proved, that a pedlarcalled Thomas Leicester had been in the kitchen,

106 GRIFFITH GAUNT.and secreted about the premises till a late hour;and this Thomas Leicester corresponded exactlyto the description given by the poacher.This threw suspicion on Thomas Leicester, butdid not connect Mrs.Gaunt with the deed in anyway.But Ryder's evidence filled this gap. Sherevealed three serious — facts:First, that, by her mistress's orders, she hadintroduced this very Leicester into her mistress'sroom about midnight, where he had remainednearly half an hour, andhad then left the house.Secondly, that Mrs.Gaunt herself hadbeen outof doors after midnight.And, thirdly, that she had listened at the door,and heard her threaten Griffith Gaunt's life.This is a mere precis of the evidence,and altogetheritlooked sosuspicious, that the magistrates,after telling Mrs.Gaunt shecould ask the witnessesany question she chose,a suggestion she treated

GRIFFITH GAUNT.107with marked contempt, put their heads togethera moment, and whispered.Then the eldest ofthem,Mr.Underbill, who lived at a considerabledistance, told her gravely he must commitherto take her trial at the next assizes." Do what you conceive to be your duty, gentlemen,"said Mrs.Gaunt, with marvellous dignity." IfI do not assertmy innocence,it is becauseIdisdain the accusation too much."" Ishall take no part in the committal of thisinnocent lady," said Sir George Neville:and wasabout to leave the room.But Mrs. Gaunt begged him to stay." To beguilty, is one thing," said she, " to be accused,isanother:Ishall go to prison as easy as to mydinner,and to the gallowsas to my bed."The presiding magistrate was staggered amoment by these words; and it was not withoutconsiderable hesitation he took the warrant, andprepared to fillitup.

108 GRIFFITH GAUNT.ThenMr.Houseman, who had watched the proceedingsvery keenly,"put in his word. 1 amhere fur the accused person, sir, and, with yourgood leave, object to her committal — on groundsof law."" What may they be, Mr.Houseman ?" said themagistrate, civilly; and laid his pen down to hearthem." Briefly, sir, these. Where a murder is proven,you can commit a subject of this realm upon suspicion.But you cannot suspect the murder aswell as the culprit, and so commit.must be proved to the senses.The murderNow in this casethe death of Mr.Gaunt by violence is not proved.Indeed his very death rests but upon suspicion.Iadmit that the law of England in this respecthas once or twice been tampered with,and personshave even been executed where no corpus delictiwas found;but what was the consequence?Ineach case the murdered man turned out to be

GRIFFITH GAUNT.109alive, and justice was the only murderer.AfterHarrison's case, and *'s, no Cumberland jury willever commit for murder,unless the corpus delictihas been found, and with signs of violence uponit,Come, come,Mr. Atkins, you are too good alawyer, and toohumane a man, to send my clientto prison on the suspicion of a suspicion, whichyou know the very breath of the judge will blowaway, even if the grand jury let it go into court.Ioffer bail, ten thousand pounds in two sureties;Sir George Neville here present, and myself."The magistrate looked at Mr. Atkins." Iam not employed by the Crown," said thatgentleman, "but acting on mere civil grounds,and have noright nor wish to be severe.Bail byall means;but is the lady so sure of her innocenceas to lend me her assistance to find the corpusdelicti?"The questionwas so shrewdly put, that anvhesitation would have ruined Mrs. Gaunt.

110 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Houseman, therefore, replied eagerly andpromptly, " Ianswer for her, she will."Mrs.Gaunt bowed her head in assent." Then," said Atkins," Iask leave to drag, and,if need be, to drain, that piece of water there,called ' the mere.' ""Drag it,or drain it, which you will," saidHouseman.Said Atkins, very impressively, "And, markmy words, at the bottom of that very sheet ofwater there,Ishall find the remains of the lateGriffith Gaunt."At these solemn words,coming, as they did, notfrom a loose unprofessional speaker, but from alawyer,a man who measured all his words,a verykeen observer might have seen a sort of tremorrun allthrough Mr.Houseman's frame. The moreadmirable was the perfect coolness and seemingindifference with which he rephed."Find him, and I'll admit suicide; find him,

GRIFFITH GAUNT.111with signs of violence, and I'll admit homicide,by some person or persons unknown."Allfurther remarks were interrupted by bustleand confusion.Mrs.Gaunt had fainted dead away.

112 GRIFFITH GAUNT.CHAPTER Vni.Of course pity was the first feeling; but, by thetime Mrs. Gaunt revived, her fainting, so soonafter Mr.Atkins's proposal,had produceda sinistereffect on the minds of all present; and every faceshow-ed it,except the wary Houseman's.On her retiring, it broke out first in murmurs,then in plain words.As for Sir. Atkins, he now showed the moderationof an able man who feels he has a strongcause.He merely said, " Ithink there should be constablesabout, in case of an escape bein7* attempted;butIagree with Mr.Houseman, that

GRIFFITH GAUNT.113your worships will be quite justified in takingbail,provided the corpus delicti should not befound.Gentlemen, you were most of you neighboursand friends of the deceased, and are,Iamsure, lovers of justice:Ido entreat you to aidme in searching that piece of water, by the sideof which the deceased gentleman washeard to cryfor help; and,muchIfear, he cried in vain."The persons thus appealed to entered into thematter with all the ardour of just men, whosecuriosity as well as justiceis inflamed.A set of old rusty drags was found on thepremises:and men wentpuntingup and down themere, and draggedit.Rude hooks were made by the village blacksmith,and fitted to cart-ropes;another boat wasbrought to Hernshaw in a waggon, and all thatafternoon the bottom of the mere wasraked; andsome curious things fished up. But no deadman.VOL. III.I

114 GRIFFITH GAUNT.The next day a score of amateur1dragsmen wereout: some throwing their drags from the bridge;some circulating in boats, and evenin large tubs.And, meantime, Mr.Atkins and his crew wentsteadily up and down, draggingevery foot of thoseplacid waters.They worked tilldinner time, and brought up agood copperpot with two handles, a horse's head,and several decayed trunks of trees, which hadbecome saturated, and sunk to the bottom.At about three in the afternoon, two boys who,for want of a boat, were dragging from the bridge,found something heavy but elastic at the end oftheir drag: they pulled up eagerly, and a thinglike a huge turnip, half gnawed,came up, with agreat bob, and blasted their sight.Theylet go, drags and all,and stood shrieking,and shrieking.Those who were nearest them called out, andasked what wasthe matter; but the boys did not

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 115reply, and their facesshowed so white, that awoman, who saw them, screamed toMr. Atkins,and said she was sure those boys had seen somethingout of the common.Mr.Atkins came up,and found the boys blubbering.He encouragedthem, and they told hima fearful thinghad comeup;it was Idee a man'shead and shoulders all scooped outand gnawedbythe fishes ;and had torn the drags out of theirhands.Mr.Atkins made them tell him the exact place;and was soon uponit with liis boat.The water here was very deep, and thoughtheboys kept pointing to the very spot, the dragsfound nothing for some time.But at last they showed,by their resistance,thatthey had clawed hold of something." Draw slowly," said Mr. Atkins," and,if it is,be men, and hold fast."The men drewslowly, slowly, and presentlyi2

116 GRIFFITH GAUNT.there rose to the surface a Thing to strike terrorand loathing into the stoutest heart.The mutilated remains of a human face andbody.The greedy pike had cleared, not the featuresonly, but the entire flesh off the face;but hadleft the hair, and the tight skin of the forehead,though their teeth had raked this last, Theremnants they had left made what they hadmutilated doubly horrible;since now it was nota skull; not a skeleton; but a face and a mangnawed down to the bones and hair and feet,These last were in stout shoes that resisted eventhose voracious teeth;and a leathern stock hadoffered some little protectionto the throat.The mengroaned, and hid their faces with onehand, and pulled softly to the shore with theother; and then, with half-averted faces, theydrew the ghastly remains and fluttering ragsgently and reverently to land.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.117Mr.Atkins yielded to Nature, and was violentlysick at the sight he had searched for so eagerly.As soon as he recovered his powers,he bade thoconstables guard the body (it was a body,in law),and see that no onelaid so much as afinger on ituntil some magistrate had taken adeposition. Healso sent a messenger to Mr. Houseman, tellinghim the corpus delicti was found. He did this,partly to show that gentleman he was right in hisjudgment, and partly out of common humanity;since, after this discovery, Mr. Houseman's clientwas sure to be tried for her life.A magistrate soon came, and viewed theremains, and took careful notes of the state inwhich they were found.Houseman came, and was much affected, bothby the sight of his dead friend, so mutilated,andby the probable consequences to Mrs. Gaunt.However, as lawyers fight very hard, he recoveredhimself enough to remark that there were no

118 GRIFFITH GAUNT.marks of violence before death, and insisted onthis beinginserted in themagistrate's notes.An inquest was ordered next day, and meantime!Mrs. Gaunt was told she could not quit theupper apartments of her own house.Two constableswere placed on the ground floor night andday.Next day the remains were removed to thelittle inn,where Griffith had spent so many jovialhours; laid on a table, and covered with a whitesheet.The coroner's jury sat in the same room, aswas then the custom, and the evidenceIhavealready noticed was gone into and the finding ofthe bodydeposed to.returned a verdict of wilful murder.The jury, without hesitation,Mrs.Gauntwas thenbroughtin. She came, whiteas a ghost,leaning uponHouseman's shoulder.Upon her entering, a juryman, by a humaneimpulse, drew the sheet over the remains again

GRIFFITH GAUNT.119The coroner,accordingto the custom of the day,put a question to Mrs. Gaunt, with the view ofeliciting her guilt. IfIremember right, he askedher how she came to be out of doors so late on thenight of the murder. Mrs. Gaunt, however, wasinno condition to answer queries. Idoubt if sheeven heard this one. Her lovely eyes,dilated withhorror, were fixed on that terrible sheet, with astony^glance."Show me," she gasped, "and letme die too."The jurymen looked, with doubtful faces, at thecoroner. He bowed a grave assent.The nearest juryman withdrew the sheet.Now, the belief was not yet extinct that thedead body shows some signs of its murderer'sapproach.So every eye glared onher and It by turns, asshe, with dilated, horror-stricken orbs, looked onthat awful Thing.

120 GRIFFITH GAUNTCHAPTERIX.She recoiled with a violent shudder at first;andhid her face with one hand. Then she graduallystole ahorror-stricken side glance.She had not looked atit so amoment, when sheuttered a loud cry, and pointed at its feet withquivering hand."The shoes!Griffith."the shoes! — It is not myWith this she fell into violent hysterics, andwas carried out of the roomat Houseman's earnestentreatyAs soon as she was gone,Mr.Houseman, beingfreed from his fear that his client would commit

griffith gaunt.121herself irretrievably, recovered a show of composure,andhis wits went keenly to work." On behalf of the accused," said he," I admitthe suicide of some person unknown, wearingheavyhobnailed shoes;probably oneof the lowerorder of people."This adroit remark produced some little effect,notwithstanding the "strong feeling against theaccused.The coroner inquired if there were any bodilymarks by which the remains could be identified."My master had along black mole on his forehead,"suggested Caroline Ryder." 'Tis here!" cried a juryman,bending- over theremains.And now they all gathered in great excitementround the corpus delicti; and there, sure enough,was a long black mole.Then was there a buzz of pity for GriffithGaunt, followed by astern murmur of execration.

122 griffith gaunt." Gentlemen," said the coroner solemnly," beholdin this the finger of Heaven. The poorgentleman may well have put off his boots, since,it seems, he left his horse ;but he could not takefrom his forehead his natal sign; and that, byGod's will, hathand revealed a most foul deed.strangely escaped mutilation,We must nowdo our duty, gentlemen, without respect ofpersons."A warrant was thenissued for the apprehensionof Thomas Leicester.And, that same night, Mrs.Gaunt left Hernshaw in her own chariot betweentwo constables, and escortedby armed yeomen.Herproud head was bowed almost to her knees,and her streaming eyes hidden in her lovelyhands. For why? Amob accompanied her formiles, shouting, " — —Murderess! Bloody Papist!Hast done to death the kindliest gentleman inCumberland. We'll all come to see thee hanged.— — Fair face but foul heart!" and groaning, hiss-

GRIFFITH GAUNT.123ing and cursing, and indeed only kept from violenceby the escort.And so they took that poor proud lady andlodged herin Carlisle gaol.She was enceinte into the bargain. By theman she was to be hanged for murdering.

124 GRIFFITH GAUNT.CHAPTER X.The county was against her, with some few exceptions.Sir George Neville and Mr.Housemanstoodstoutly by her.Sir George's influence and money obtained hercertain comforts in gaol; and, in that day, thelaw of England was so far respected in a gaol,thatuntried prisoners were not thrown into cells,nor impeded, as they now are,in preparing theirdefence.Her two staunch friends visited her every day,and tried to keep her heart up.But they could not do it. She was ina stateof dejection bordering upon lethargy.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 125"If he is dead," said she, "what matters it?If, by God's mercy, he is alive still,he will notlet me die for want of a word from him. Impatiencehath been my bane. Now,Isay, God'swill be done. Iam weary of the world."Houseman tried every argument to rouse herout of this desperate frame of mind; but invain.It ran its course, and then, behold, it passedaway like a cloud, and there came a keen desireto live and defeat her accusers.She made Houseman write out all the evidenceagainst her; and she studied it by day, andthought of it bynight; and often surprised bothher friends by the acuteness of her remarks.Mr. Atkins discontinued his advertisements;itwas Houseman who nowfilled every paper withnotices informing Griffith Gaunt of his accessionto fortune, and entreated him for that, and other

126 GRIFFITH GAUNT.weighty reasons, to communicatein confidencewith his old friend John Houseman, attorney-atlaw.Houseman was too wary to invite him toappear and save his wife;for, in that case, hefeared the Crown would use his advertisements asevidence at the trial,should Griffith not appear.The fact is,Houseman relied more upon certainlacunæin the evidence, and the absence of allmarks of violence, than upon any hope thatGriffith might be alive.The assizes drew near,and no fresh light brokein upon this mysterious case.Mrs. Gaunt layinher bed atnight,and thoughtand thought.Now the female understanding has sometimesremarkable power under such circumstances. Bydegrees Truth flashes across it, like lightnino- inthe dark.After many such nightly meditations, Mrs.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.127Gaunt sent one day for Sir George Neville and—Mr. Houseman,and addressed them as follows:" Ibelieve he is alive,and thatIcan guess wherehe is at this moment."Both the gentlemen started,and looked amazed." Yes,sirs; so sure as we sit here,he is now at alittleinnin Lancashire,called the ' Packhorse,' witha woman he calls his wife."And, with this,herface was scarlet,andher eyesflashed their old fire.She exacted a solemn promise of secrecy fromthem, and then she told them all she had learnedfrom Thomas Leicester." And so now," [said she," Ibelieve you cansave my life, if you think it is worth saving."And with this,she began to cry bitterly.But Houseman, the practical, had no patiencewith thepangs of love betrayed, and jealousy,andsuch small deer,in aclient whose life was atstake." Great Heaven! madam," said he, roughly," why did you not tell me tinsbefore ?"

128 GRIFFITH GAUNT." Because — Iam not a man to go and telleverything all at once," sobbed Mrs. Gaunt."Besides,Iwantedto shield his good name,whose clear life they pretendIhave taken."As soon as she recovered her composure, shebeggedSir George Neville to ride to the " Packhorse"for her. Sir George assented eagerly; but"asked how he was to find it. Ihave thought of"that too," said she. His black horse has been toand fro.Ride that horse into Lancashire, andgive him his head: ten to one but he takes you tothe place, or where you may hear of it. If not,go to Lancaster, and ask about the ' Packhorse.'He wrote to me from Lancaster: see."showed him the letter.And sheSir George embraced with ardour this opportunityof serving her. I'll be at Hernshaw"inone hour," said he, "and ride the black horsesouth at once.""Excuse me," said Houseman; "but Mould it

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 129not be better for me to go?As a lawyer,Imaybe more able to cope with her."" Nay," saidMrs. Gaunt," Sir George is youngand handsome:if he manages well, she will tellhimmore than she will you.AllIbeg of him is,to drop the chevalier, for this once, and seewomenwith a woman's eyes and not a man's; seethem as they are.Do not go telling a creature ofthis kind that she has had my money, as well asmy husband, and ought to pity me lying here inprison.can.Keep me out of her sight as much as youWhether Griffith hath deceived her or notyou will never raise in her any feeling but lovefor him, and hatred for his lawful wife.Dresslike a yeoman;go quietly, and lodge in thehouse a day or two;begin by flattering her; andthen get from her when she saw him last, orheard from him. But indeedIfear you willsurprise him withher."" Fear ?" exclaimed Sir George.vol.in.K

130 GRIFFITH GAUNT." Well, hope, then," said the lady; anda teartrickled down her face in a moment."But, ifyou do, promise me, on your honour as a gentleman,notto affront him.himavillain."ForIknow you think"A d d vfllain!saving your presence."" Well, sir, you have said it to me. Nowpromise me to say nought to him, but just this:' Rose Gaunt's mother she lies in Carlisle gaol,to be tried for her life for murdering you.Shebegs of you not to let her die publicly uponthe scaffold; but quietly at home, of her brokenheart.'"" Write it," said Sir George, with the tears inhiseyes, " thatImay just putit in his hand: forIcan never utter your sweet words to such amonster as he is."Armed with this appeal, and several minuteinstructions,which it is needless to particularizehere, that staunch friend rode into Lancashire.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.131And next day the blackmistress's sagacity, and his own.He seemed all along to knowhorse justified hiswhere he wasgoing, andlate in the afternoon he turned off theroad on toapiece of green:and Sir George, withbeating heart, sawright before him the sign of the" Packhorse," and, on coming nearer, the wordsTHOMAS LEICESTER.He dismounted at the door, and asked if hecould have abed.Mrs.Vint said yes;andsupperinto thebargain,if he liked.He ordered a substantial supper directly.Mrs. Vint saw at once it was a good customer,and showed him into the parlour.He sat down by the fire. But, the moment sheretired,he gotup and made a circuit of the house,looking quietly into every window, to see if hecould catch a glance of Griffith Gaunt.K 2

132 GRIFFITH GAUNT.There were no signs of him;and Sir Georgereturned to his parlour heavy-hearted.Onehope,the greatest of all, had been defeated directly.Still, it was just possible that Griffith might beaway on temporary business.In this faint hope, Sir George strolled about tillhis supper wasready for him.When he had eaten his supper, he rang thebell,and, taking advantage of a common custom,insisted on the landlord,Thomas Leicester, takinga glass with him." Thomas Leicester!" said the girl." He is notat home.But I'llsend Master Vint."Old Vint came in, and readily accepted aninvitation to drink his guest's health.Sir George found him loquacious, and soonextracted from him that his daughter Mercy wasLeicester's wife, that Leicester was gone on ajourney, and that Mercy was in care for him." Leastways," said he," she is very dull, and cries

GRIFFITH GAUNT.133at times when her mother speaks of him; but sheis too close to say much."All this puzzled Sir George Neville sorely.But greater surprises werein store.The next morning, after breakfast, the servantcame and told him Dame Leicester desired to seehim.He started at that; but put on nonchalance,and said he was ather service.He was ushered into another parlour, and therehe found a grave, comely, young woman, seatedworking, with a child on the floor beside her.She rose quietly; he bowed low and respectfully;she blushed faintly; but, with every appearanceof self-possession, curtsied to him; then eyed himpoint-blank a single moment; and requested himto be seated." I hear, sir," said she, "you did ask my fathermany questions last night;mayIask you one ?"Sir George coloured,but bowed assent.

134 GRIFFITH GAUNT"." From whom had youtheblack horse youride ?"Now, if Sir George had not been a veraciousman, he would have been caught directly.But,although he saw at once the oversight he hadcommitted, he replied, " Ihad him of a lady inCumberland,one Mistress Gaunt."Mercy Vint trembled." No doubt," said she, softly. Excuse myquestion;you shall understand that the horse iswell known here."" Madam," said Sir George," if you admire thehorse, he is at your service for twenty pounds,though indeed he is worth more."" Ithank you, sir," said Mercy," I have nodesire for the horse whatever; and be pleased toexcuse my curiosity;youmust think me impertinent.""Nay, madam," said Sir George, "I considernothing impertinent that hath procured me thepleasure of an interview with you."

GRIFFITH GAUNT.135He then, as directed by Mrs. Gaunt, proceededto flatter the mother and the child, and exertedthose powers of pleasing which" had made himirresistible in society.Here,however, he found they wenta very littleway. Mercy didnot even smile. She cast out ofher dove-like eyes a gentle, humble, reproachfulglance, as much as to say, " What!doIseem sovain a creature as to believe all this ?"Sir George himself had tact and sensibility;and,by-and-by became discontented with the parthe wasplaying, under those meek, honest, eyes.There was a pause: and, as her sex have awonderful artof reading the face, Mercy looked athim steadily, and said, " Yes, sir, 'tis best to bestraightforward, especially with women-folk."Before hecouldrecover this little facer,she said,quietly, " What is your name ?"" George Neville.""Well, George Neville," saidMercy, very

136 GRIFFITH GAUNT.slowly and softly, " when you have a mind to tellme what you came here for, and who sent you,you will find me in this little room.Iseldomleave it now.none but me."Ibegyou to speak your errand toAnd she sighed deeply.Sir George bowed low, and retired to collect hiswits.He had come here stronglyprepossessed againstMercy.But,instead of a vulgar, shallow woman,whom he was to surprise into confession, he encountereda soft-eyed Puritan, all unpretendingdignity, grace, propriety, and sagacity." Flatter her!" said he, to himself, "Imight aswell flatter an iceberg.a child beside her."Out-wit her!Ifeel likeHe strolled about in a brown study, notknowing what to do.She had given him a fair opening. She hadinvited him to tell the truth. But he was afraidto take her at her word: and yet what was the

GRIFFITH GAUNT.137use to persistin what bis owneyes told him wasthe wrong course ?Whilst he hesitated, and debated within himself,a triflingincident turned the scale.A poor woman came begging, with her child,and was received rather roughly by Harry Vint,"Pass on, good woman," said he, we want notrampshere."Then a window wasopened on the ground floor,and Mercy beckoned the woman.Sir Georgeflattened himself against the wall, and listened tothe two talking.Mercy examined the woman gently, butshrewdly,and elicited a tale of genuine distress.Sir George then saw her hand out to the womansome warm flannel for herself, a piece of stuff forthe child, alarge piece of bread, and a sixpence.He alsocaught sight of Mercy's dove-like eyes,as she bestowed her alms, and they were lit withaninward lustre.

138 GRIFFITH GAUNT."She cannot be an ill woman," thought SirGeorge.judgment.her;andIhave.""I'll e'en go by my own eyes andAfter all,Mrs. Gaunt has never seenHe went and knocked at Mercy's door." Come in," said amild voice.Neville entered, and said, abruptly, and withgreat emotion, "Madam,Isee you can feel forthe unhappy; soItake my own way now, andappeal to your pity.Ihave come to speak to youon the saddest business."" You come from him," said Mercy, closing herlips tight; but her bosom heaved.Her heartand her judgment grappled like wrestlers thatmoment.her.""Nay,madam," said Sir George, " Icome fromMercy knew in a moment who " her " must be.Shelooked scared, and drew back withmanifestsigns of repulsion.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.139The movement did not escape Sir George:italarmed him: he remembered what Mrs. Gaunthad said;that this woman would be sure to hateGaunt's lawful wife.back.But it was too late to goHe did the nextbest thing,he rushedon.He threw himself on his knees before MercyVint." Oh, madam!" he cried, piteously, " do notset your heart against the most unhappy lady inEngland. If youdid but know her,her nobleness,her misery! Before yousteel yourself againstme,her friend,let me ask you one question.know where Mrs.Gaunt is at this moment?"Do youMercy answered, coldly, "How shouldIknowwhere the lady is?"" Well then, she lies in Carlisle gaol."" She— lies— inCarlisle gaol ?" repeated Mercy,looking all confused."They7 accuse her of murdering her husband."Mercy uttered a scream, and catching- her child

140 GRIFFITH GAUNT.up off the floor, began to rock herself and moanover it."No, no,no," cried Sir George, " she isinnocent,she is innocent."""What is that to me?" cried Mercy, wildly."He is murdered, he is dead, and my child anorphan." And so she went on moaning androckingherself."ButItell you he is not dead at all," cried"Sir George. 'Tis all a mistake. When did youseehim last?""More than six weeks ago.""Imean, when did you hear from him last?"" Never, since that day."Sir George groaned aloud at this intelligence.And Mercy, who heard him groan, was heartbroken.She accused herself of Griffith's death."'TwasIwho drove him from me," said she."'TwasIwho bade him go backwife;and the wretch hated him.to his lawfulIsent him to

his death."GRIFFITH GAUNT. 141Her grief was wild, and deep; shecould not hear Sir George's arguments.But presently she said, sternly, "What doesthat womansay for herself?" n," Madam," said Sir George, dejectedly, " Heavenknows youareinno condition to fathom amystery.thathath puzzled wiser heads than yours or miue;andIambutlittle able to lay the tale before youfairly:for your grief it moves me deeply, andIcould curse myself for putting the matter to youso bluntly and uncouthly.Permit me to retire awhile, and compose my own spirits for the taskIhave undertaken too rashly."" Nay, George Neville," said Mercy, " stay youthere: only give me a momentbreath."to draw myShe struggled hard for a little composure, and,after a shower of tears, she hung her head overthe chair like a crushed thing,but made him asign of attention.

142 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Sir George told the story as fairly as he could;only of course his bias was in favour of Mrs.Gaunt;but as Mercy's bias was against her, thisbrought the thing nearly square.When he came to the finding of the body,.Mercy was seized with a deadly faintness; and,though she did not become insensible,y7et she wasinno condition to judge or even to comprehend.Sir George was moved with pity, and wouldhave called for help;but she shook her head.Sothen he sprinkled water on her face, and slappedher hand: and a beautifully moulded hand itwas.When she gota little better she sobbed faintly,and sobbing thanked him, and begged him togo on."My mind is stronger than my heart," she"said. I'll hear it all, though it kill me whereIsit."Sir George went on, and, to avoid repetition,I

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 143must ask thereader to understand that heleft outnothing whatever which has been hitherto relatedin these pages; and,in fact, told her one or twolittle things thatIhave omitted.When he had done, she sat quite still a minuteor two, pale as a statue.Then she turned to Neville,and said solemnly," You wish to know the truthin this dark matter:for dark itisin very sooth."Neville was much impressed by her manner,and answered respectfully, Yes,he desired to know— by all means." Then takemy hand," said Mercy, " and kneeldown with me."Sir George looked surprised, but obeyed, andkneeled down beside her, with his hand in hers.There was a longpause,and then took place atransformation.The dove-like eyes were lifted to Heaven,andgleamed like opals with an inward and celestial

144 GRIFFITH GAUNT.light;the comely face shone with ahigher beauty,and the rich voice rose in ardent supplication." Thou God, to whom all hearts be known,andno secretshid from thine eye, look down now onthy servantin sore trouble, that putteth her trustin thee.Give wisdom to the simple this day,andunderstanding to thelowly. Thouthat didstrevealtobabes and sucklings the great things that werehidden from the wise,oh show us the truth inthisdark matter: enlighten us by thy spirit, for Idsdear sake, who suffered more sorrows thanIsuffernow.Amen. Amen."Then she looked at Neville: and he said" Amen," with all his heart,and the tears inhiseyes.He had never heard real live prayer before.Here the little hand gripped his hard, as shewrestled,and the heart seemed to rise out of thebosom and fly to Heaven on the sublime andthrilling voice.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 145They rose, and she sat down;but it seemed asif her eyes once raised to Heaven in prayer couldnot come down again: they remained fixed andangelic, and her lips still moved in supplication.Sir George Neville, though a loose liver, wasno scoffer;he was smitten with reverence for thisinspired countenance, and retired, bowing low andobsequiously.He took a long walk and thoughtit all over.One thing was clear, and consoling.He felt surehe had done wisely todisobeyMrs.Gaunt'sinstructions,and make a friend of Mercy, instead oftrying to set his wits against hers.Ere he returnedto the " Packhorse," he had determined totake another step in the right direction.He didnot like to agitate her withanother interview, sosoon.But he wrote her alittle letter." Madam,— WhenI came here,Idid not knowyou; and thereforeIfeared to trust youtoo far.VOL. III.L

146 GRIFFITH GAUNT.But, nowIdo know you for the best woman inEngland,Itake the open way with you." Know that Mrs. Gaunt said the man would bohere with you; and she charged mo with a fewwritten lines to him.She would be angry if sheknew thatIhad shown them to any other.YetItake on me to show them to y7ou: forIbelieveyou are wiser than any of us,if the truth wereknown.Ido therefore entreat you to read theselines, and tell me whether you think the handthat wrote them canhave shed the blood of himto whom they are writ.Iam, Madam," With,profoundrespect," Yourgrateful and very humble servant," George Neville."He very soon received a line inreply, writtenin a clear and beautiful handwriting." Mercy Vint sends you her duty; and she will

GRIFFITH GAUNT.speak to you at nino of the clockmorning. Pray for light."147to-moirowAt the appointed time Sir George found herworking with her needle.table before her.His letter lay on thoShe rose and curtsied to him, and calledthe servant to take away the child for awhile. She went with her to the door andkissed the bairn several times at parting, as if"he was going away for good. I'm loath to lethim go," said she to Neville; " but it weakensa mother's mind to have her babe in theroom; takes her attention 'off each moment.Pray you be seated. Well, sir,Ihave readthese lines of Mistress Gaunt, and wept overthem.MethinksIhad not done so were theycunningly devised.thought."" That is just what she does."AlsoIlay all night andL 2

148 GRIFFITH GAUNT." No doubt, sir; and the upshot is,Idon't feelas if he wasdead.Thank God.""That is something," said Neville.But hecould not help thinking it was very little; especially7to produce ina court of justice." And now," said she, thoughtfully," you saythat the real Thomas Leicester_was seen thereaboutsas well as my Thomas Leicester.Thenanswer me one little question. What had thereal Thomas Leicester on his feet that night ?"" Nay,Iknow not," was the half-careless reply." Bethink you. 'Tis a question that must havebeen often putin your hearing."" Begging your pardon,it was never put at all;"nor doIsee" What, not at the inquest?""No."" That is very strange. What, so many wiseheads have bent over this riddle, and not one toask how was yon pedlar shod!"

GRIFFITH GAUNT.149"Madam," said Sir George, "our minds werefixed upon the fate of Gaunt.Many didask howwas the pedlar armed; but none howshod."" Hath he been seen since ?"was he"Not he; and that hath an ugly look; for theconstables are out after him with hue and cry;but he is not to be found."" Then," said Mercy7," Imust e'en answer myown question.shod.Ido know how that pedlar wasWithhobnailed shoes."Sir George bounded from his chair.One greatray of daylight broke inupon him." Ay," said Mercy," she wasright. Women dosee clearer in some things than men.The pairwent from my house to hers:he you call GriffithGaunt had on a new pair of boots; and by thesame token 'twasIdid pay for them, and thereis the receipt in that cupboard: heyou callThomas Leicester went hence in hobnailed shoes.

150 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Ithink the body they found was the body ofThomas Leicester the pedlar. May God havemercy onhis poor unprepared soul."Sir George uttered a joyful exclamation. Butthe next moment he hadadoubt, " Ay, but, " saidhe, "you forget the mole. 'Twas on that theybuilt."" Iforget nought," said Mercy, calmly." Thepedlar had a black mole over his left temple.He showed it me in this very room.You havefound the body of Thomas Leicester, and GriffithGaunt is hiding from the law that he hath broken.He is afeared of her and her friends if he showshis face in Cumberland;he is afeared of my folkif he be seenin Lancashire.would let them harm thee!"Ah, Thomas, as ifISir George Neville walked to and fro in grandexcitement." Oh, blessed day thatI came hither. Madamyou are an angel.You will save an innocent

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 151broken-hearted lady from death and dishonour.Your good heart and rare wit have read in amoment the dark riddlethat hath puzzled acounty."" George," said Mercy, gravely," you havegotten the wrong end of the stick.The wiseintheir own conceit are blinded; in Cumberland,where all this befell, they w-ent not to God forlight, as you andIdid, George."In saying this she gave him her hand to celebratetheir success.He kissed it devoutly,and owned afterward thatit was the proudest moment of his life, when thatsweet Puritan gavehim her neat hand socordially,with a pressure so gentle yet frank.And now came the question how they were tomake a Cumberland jury see this matter as theysawit.He asked her would she come to the trial asa witness ?

152 GRIFFITH GAUNT.sit that she drew back with manifest repugnance." My shame would be public.'Imust tell whoIam;and what. A ruined woman."" Say rather an injured saint, You have nothingto be ashamed of.for you."Mercy shook her head.All goodmen would feel" Ay, but the women;shame is shame with us;right or wrong goes forlittle. Nay,Ihope to do better for youthan that.Imust find him:and send him to deliver her.'Tis his only chance of happiness."She then asked him if he w7ould draw up anadvertisement of quite a different kind from thosehe had described to her.He assented, —andbetween them they concoctedthe following:"If Thomas Leicester, who went from the" " Packhorse two months ago, will come thither

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 153at once,Mercy will be much beholden to him,andtell him strange things that have befallen."Sir George then, at her request, rode'over toLancaster, and inserted the above in the countypaper,and also in a small sheet that was issuedinthe city three times aweek.He had also handbillsto the same effect printed, and sent intoCumberland and Westmoreland.Finally, he senta copy to his man of business in London, withorders to insert itinall the journals.Then he returned to the " Packhorse," and toldMercy what he had done.The next day he bade her farewell, and awayfor Carlisle. It was a two clays' journey. Hereached Carlisle in the evening, and went all" "glowing to Mrs. Gaunt, Madam," said he, beof good cheer.Ibless the dayIwent to see her;she is an angel of wit and goodness."He thenrelated to her, in glowing terms, most thathad passed between Mercy and him.But to

154 GRIFFITH GAUNT.his surprise, Mrs. Gaunt wore a cold, forbiddingair."Thisis all very well," said she." But 'twillavail me little unless lie comes before the judgeand clears me; and she will never let him dothat.""Ay,that she will — if she canfind him."" Ushe can find him? How simple you are."" Nay, madam, not so simple butIcan tell agood woman from a badone, and a true from afalse."" What! when you are inlove with her ? Notif you were the wisest of your sex."" In love with her ?" cried Sir George; andcoloured high." Ay," said the lady." Think youIcannottell? Don't deceive yourself.and fallen inlove with her.You have goneAt your years! Notthat 'tis any business of mine."" Well, madam," said Sir George, stiffly," say

what you pleasewelcome my good news."GRIFFITH GAUNT. 155on that score; but, at leastMrs.Gaunt beggedhim to excuseher petulance,and thanked him kindly for all he had just done.But the next moment she rose from her chair ingreat agitation, and burst out, " I'd as lieve die asoweanything to that woman."Sir George remonstrated."Why hate her?She does not hate you."" Oh yes she does. 'Tis not in nature sheshould do any other."" Her acts prove the contrary."" Her acts! she has done nothing, but make fairpromises; and thathas blinded you.Women ofthis sort are very cunning, and never show theirreal characters to a man.No more; pritheemention not her name to me. It makes meillIknow he is with her at this moment.Ah, letme die, and be forgotten: sinceIam no morebeloved."

156 GRIFFITH GAUNT.The voice was sad and weary now,and the tearsran fast.Poor Sir George was moved and melted, and sethimself to flatter and console this impracticablelady, whohated her best friend in this sore strait,for being what she was herself,a woman; and wasmuch less annoyed at being hanged than at notbeingloved.When she was a little calmer he left her, androde offto Houseman. That worthy wasdelighted." Get her to swear to those hobnailed shoes," saidhe, " andwe shall shake them."He then let SirGeorge know that he had obtained private information,which he would use in cross-examining;a principal witness for the Crown."However,"he added, "do not deceive yourself: nothing canmake the prisoner really safe but the appearanceof Griffith Gaunt; he has such strong motivesfor coming to light; he is heir to a fortune, andhis wife is accused of murdering him. The jury

GRIFFITH GAUNT.157will never believe he is alive till they see him.That man's prolonged disappearance is hideous.It turns my blood cold whenIthink of it,"" Do not despair on that score," said Neville." Ibelieve our good angel will produce him."Three days only before the assizes, came thelong-expectedletter fromMercy Vint.Sir Georgetore it open, but bitter was his disappointment.The letter merely said that Griffith had notappeared in answer to her advertisements, andshe was sore grieved and perplexed.There were two postscripts, each onalittlepieceof paper.First postscript, in a tremulous hand, " Pray.Second postscript, in a firm hand, " Drain thatwater."Houseman shruggedhis shoulders impatiently." Drain the mere ? Let the Crown do that. Weshould but fish up more trouble.And prayer

158 GRIFFITH GAUNT.quo' she!'Tis not prayers we want, but evidence."He sent his clerk off to travel post nightand day, and subpSna Mercy, and bring herback with him to the trial. She was to haveevery comfort on the road, and be treated like aduchess.The evening before the assizes, Mrs. Gaunt'sapartments were Mr. Houseman's head-quarters,andmessages were coming and going all day, onmatters connected with the defence.Just at sunset, up rattled a postchaise, and theclerk got out and came haggard and bloodshotbefore his employer." The witness has disappeared, sir. Left homelast Tuesday, with her child, and has never been.seennor heard of since."Here was aterrible blow. Theyall paled underit; it seriously diminished the chances of anacquittal.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 159But Mrs. Gaunt boreit nobly.rise under it.She seemed toShe turned to Sir George Neville with a sweet"smile. The noble heart sees base things noble.No wonder then an artful woman deluded you.He has left England with her; and condemnedme to the gallows. In cold Wood. So beit. Ishall defend myself."She then sat down with Mr. Houseman, andwent through the written case he had preparedfor her: and showed him notes she had taken offull a hundred criminal trials great and small.While they were putting- their heads together,Sir George satin abrown study, and uttered nota word.Presently he got up a little brusquely7,and said, " I'm going to Hernshaw."" What, at this time of night ? What to do ?"" To obey my orders. To drain the mere."" And whocould have ordered you to drain mymere t

160 GRIFFITH GAUNT." Mercy Vint."Sir George uttered this in a very curious way,half ashamedhalf resolute, aud retired beforeMrs. Gaunt could ventin speech the surprise andindignation that fired her eye.Houseman implored her not to heed Sir Georgeand his vagaries, but to bend her whole mind onthose approved modes of 'defence with which hohad suppliedher.Being now alone with her, he no longer concealed his great anxiety." We have lost an invaluable witness in that"woman," said he. Iwas mad to think she wouldcome."Mrs. Gaunt shivered with repugnance." 1would not have her come for all the world," saidshe."For Heaven's sake never mention hername to me. Iwant help from none but friends.Send Mrs.Houseman to me in the morning;anddo not distress yourself so.Ishall defend myself

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 161far better than you think. Ihave not studied ahundred trials for nought."Thus the prisoner cheered up her attorney, andsoonafter insisted on his going home to bed, forshe saw he was worn out by his exertions.And now she was alone.All was silent.A few short hours, and she was to be tried forher life;tried, not by the All-wise Judge, but byfallible men, and under a system most unfavourableto the accused.Worse than all this, she was a Papist:and, asill-luck would have it, since her imprisonment analarmhadbeen raised thatthe Pretender meditatedanother invasion. This report had set juries verymuch against all the Romanists in the country,and had already perverted justice in one or twocases, especially in the North.Mrs. Gaunt knew all this, and trembled at theperil to come.VOL. III. -t

162 GRIFFITH GAUNT.She spent the early part of the night in studyingher defence.' Then she laid it quite asideand prayedlong and fervently.Towards morning she fell asleep from exhaustion.When she awoke, Mrs. Houseman was sittingby her bedside,looking at her, and crying.They were soon clasped in each other's arms,condoling.But presently Houseman came, aud took hiswife away rather angrily.Mrs. Gaunt wasprevailed on toeat alittle toastand drink a glass of wine, and then she satwaitingher dreadful summons.She waited, and waited, until she becameimpatient to face her danger.But there were two petty larcenies on beforeher. She had to wait.At last,about noon,came amessage to say thatthe grand juryhad found a true bill against her.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 163" Then may God forgive them !" said she.Soonafterwards she wasinformed her time drewvery near.She made her toilet carefully, and passed withher attendant into a smallroom under the court.Here she had to endure another chilling wait,andin a sombre room.Presently she heard a voice above her cry out," The King versus Catherine Gaunt."Then she wasbeckoned to.She mounted some steps, badly lighted, andfound herself in the glare of day,and greedy eyes,in the felon's dock.In a matter entirely strange, we seldom knowbeforehand what we can do, and how we shallcarry ourselves.Mrs. Gaunt no sooner set herfoot in that dock, and saw the awful front ofJustice face to face, than her tremors abated,and all her powers awoke, and she thrilledwith love of life, and bristled with all thosem 2

164 GRIFFITH GAUNT.fine arts of defence that nature lends to superiorwomen.She entered on that defence before she spoke aword;for she attacked the prejudices of the courtby deportment.She curtsied reverently to the Judge, and contrivedto make her reverence seem a willinghomage,unmixed with fear.She cast her eyes round, and saw the courtthronged with ladies and gentlemen she knew.Ina moment she readin their faces that only twoor three were on her side. She bowed to thoseonly; and they returned her courtesy. This gavean impression (a false one) that the gentry sympathizedwith her.After a little murmurof functionaries,the Clerkof Arraigns turned to the prisoner, aud said, in aloud voice, " Catherine Gaunt, hold up thyhand."Sheheldup her hand,and he recited the indictment,which charged that,not having the fear of

GRIFFITH GAUXT.165God before her eyes, but being moved by theinstigation of the Devil, she had on the fifteen ofOctober, in the tenth year of the reign of hispresent Majesty, aided and abetted one ThomasLeicester in an assault upon one Griffith Gaunt,Esq., and him, the said Griffith Gaunt, did withforce and arms assassinate and do to death,against the peace ofour said Lord the King,his crownand dignity.After reading the indictment, the Clerk ofArraigns turned to the prisoner, "How sayestthou, CatherineGaunt, art thou guilty of thefelonyand murder whereof thou standest indicted"or not guilty ?"" Iamnot guilty."" Culprit, how wilt thou be tried?"" CulpritIam none, but only accused:Iwillbe tried by God and my country."" God send thee a good deliverance."Mr.Wliitworth, the junior counsel for theCrown,

166 GRIFFITH GAUNT.then rose to open the case; but the prisoner, witha pale face, but most courteousdemeanour,beggedhis leave to make aprevious motion to the court,sir. Whitworth bowed, and sat down. "MyLord," said she, " Ihave first a favour to ask:and that favour, methinks,you will grant, since itis but justice, impartial justice., My accuser,Ih ar,has too counsel; both learned and able.am but a woman, and no match for their skill;therefore, Ibeg your Lordship to allow mecounsel on my defence, to matter of fact as wellas of law.Iknow this is not usual; but it isjust; andIam informed it has sometimes beengrantedin trials of life and death, and that yourLordship hath thepower,if you have the will, todo me so much justice."The Judge looked towards Mr. SerjeantWiltshire, who was the leader on the other side:hn rose instantly and replied to this purpose:" The prisoner is misinformed. The truth is, thatI

GRIFFITH GAUNT.167from time immemorial, and down to the otherclay, a person indicted for a capital offence wasneverallowed counsel at all, except to matters oflaw, and these must be started by himself.Byrecent practice, the rule hath been so far relaxed,that counsel have sometimes been permitted toexamine, and cross-examine, witnesses for aprisoner; but never to make observations on theevidence, nor to draw inferences from it to thepoint inissue."Mrs. Gaunt. So, then,ifIbe sued for a smallsum of money,Imay have skilled orators todefend me against their like.But, ifIbe suedfor my life and honour,Imay not oppose skillto skill; but must stand here a chdd againstyou that are masters.'Tis a monstrous iniquity,and you yourself, sir, will not denyit.Serjeant Wiltshire. Madam,permit me: whetherit be ahardship to deny full counsel to prisonersin criminal cases,Ishall not pretend to say;but

168 GRIFFITH GAUNT.if it be, 'tis a hardship of the law's making, andnot of mine, nor of my lord's: and none havesuffered byit (at least in our day) but those whohad broken the law.The Serjeant then stopped a minute, andwhispered with his junior. After which he turnedto the Judge. " My Lord, we, that are of counselfor the Crown, desire to do nothing that is hardwhere a person's life is at stake. We yieldto the prisoner any indulgence for which yourLordship can find a precedent in your reading;but no more:and so we leave the matter to you."The Clerk of Arraigns. Crier,proclaim silence.The Crier. Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! His Majesty'sJustices do straitly charge all manner of personsto keep silence onpain of imprisonment.The Judge. Prisoner, whatmy brother Wiltshiresays, the law is clear in: there is noprecedentfor what youask, and the contrary practice staresus in the face for centuries. What seems to you

GRIFFITH GAUNT.169apartial practice, and, to be frank, some learnedpersons are of your mind, must be set against this,that in capital cases the burden of proof lies onthe Crown and not on the accused. Alsoitis myduty to give you all the assistanceIcan, and thatIshall do. Thus thenit is: you can be allowedcounsel to examine your own witnesses,and crossexaminethe witnesses for the Crown, and speak— to points of law7, to be started by yourself, butno further.He then asked her what gentleman there presenthe should assign to her for counsel.Herreply to this inquiry took the whole courtby surprise, and made her solicitor,Houseman,very miserable. "None, my Lord," said she." Half justice is injustice;andIwill lend it nocolour. Iwill not set able men to fight for mewith their hands tied,against menas able whosehands be free. Counsel, on terms sopartial,Iwillhave none. My counsel shall be three, and no

170 GRIFFITH GAUNT.more.Yourself, my Lord,— my Innocence, — andthe Lord God Omniscient,"These words, grandly uttered, caused a deadsilence in the court,but only for a few moments.It was broken by the loud mechanical voice of thecrier,who proclaimed silence, and then called thonamesof the jury that were to try this cause.Mrs. Gaunt listened keenly to the names;familiar and bourgeois names, that now seemedregal, for they who owned them held her life intheir hands.Each juryman was swornin the grand old form,now slightly cm-tailed."Joseph King, look upon the prisoner. — Youshall well and truly try, and true deliverancemake, between our Sovereign Lord theKing andthe prisoner at the bar, whom you shall have incharge,and a true verdict give, according to theevidence.So help you God."Mr. Whitworth, for the Crown, then opened the

GRIFFITH GAUNT.171case, but did little more than translate the indictmentinto more rational language.He sat down, and Serjeant Wiltshire addressedthe court somewhat after this fashion: —" Mayit please your Lordship, and you, gentlemenof the jury, this is a case of great expectationand importance.The prisoner at the bar, agentlewoman by birth and education,and, as youmust have already7 perceived, by breeding also,stands indicted for no less a crime than murder." Ineed not paint to youtheheinousness of thiscrime:you have but to consult your own breasts.Who ever saw the ghastly corpse of the victimwelteringinits blood,and did not feelhis ownbloodrun cold through his veins ?fled ?Has the murdererwith what eagerness do we pursue!withwhat zeal apprehend! with what joy do webringhim to justice! Even the dreadful sentence ofdeath does not shock us, when pronounced uponhim; we hear it with solemn satisfaction; and

172 GRIFFITH GAUNT.acknowledge the justice of the divine sentence,' Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall hisblood be shed.'" But if thisbe the caseineverycommonmurder,what shall be thought of her who has murderedher husband ? themanin whose arms shehas lainand whom she has sworn at God's altar to loveand cherish.Such amurderer is a robber as wellas an assassin; for she robs her own children oftheir father, that tender parent, w7ho can neverbe replaced in this world."Gentlemen,it will,Ifear, be proved that theprisoner at the bar hath been guilty of murder inthis high degree: and, thoughIwill endeavourrather to extenuate than to aggravate, yetItrust(sic)Ihave such a history to open as will shockthe ears of all who hear me." Mr. Griffith Gaunt, the unfortunate deceased,was a man of descent and worship.As to hischaracter,it was inoffensive;he was known as a

GRIFFITH GAUNT.1r-o toworthy kindly gentleman;deeply attached to herwho now stands accused of his murder. They livedhappily together for some years; but, unfortunately,there was a thorn in the rose of theirwedded life;he was of the Church of England;she was,and is,aRoman Catholic.This led todisputes: and no wonder; since the 'same unhappydifference hath more than once embroileda nation,let alone a single family." Well, gentlemen, about a year ago there wasa more violent quarrel than usual between thedeceased and the prisoner at the bar: and thedeceased left his home for several months." He returned upon a certain day in this year,and a reconciliation,real or apparent, took place.He left home again soon afterwards, but only fora short period.On the 15th of last October hosuddenly returned for good, as he intended:andhere begins the tragedy, to which whatIhavehitherto related wasbut the prologue.

174 GRIFFITH GAUNT." Scarce an hour before he came, one ThomasLeicester entered the house. Now this ThomasLeicester was a creature of the prisoner's. Hehad been her gamekeeper; aud was now a pedlar.It was the prisoner who set him up as a pedlar,and purchasedthe wares to start him in histrade." Gentlemen, this pedlar, asIshall prove, wasconcealed in the house when the deceased arrived.One Caroline Ryder, who is the prisoner's gentlewoman,wasthe person who first informed her ofLeicester's arrival, and it seems she was muchmoved; Mrs. Ryder will tell you she fell intohysterics.But, soon after, her husband's arrivalwas announced,and then the passion was of a verydifferent kind.So violent was her rage againstthis unhappy man that, for once, she forgot allprudence, and threatened his life before a witness.Yes, gentlemen, we shall prove that this gentlewoman,who in appearance and manners might

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 175grace a court, was so transported out of her usualself that she held ur> aknife — aknife, gentlemen,and vowed to put it into her husband's heart.And this was no mere temporary ebullition ofwrath; we shall see presently,that, long after shehad time to cool, she repeated this menace to theunfortunate man's face. The first threat,howeverwas uttered inher own bedroom,before her confidentialservant,Caroline Ryder aforesaid.now the scene shifts.ButShe has, to all appearance,recovered herself, and sits smiling at the head ofher table; for, you must know, she entertainedcompany that night, persons of the highest standinginthe county." Presentlyher husband,all unconscious of theterrible sentiments she entertained towards him,and the fearful purpose she had announced, entersthe room, makes obeisance to his guests,and goesto take his wife's hand." What does she ? She draws back with so

176 GRIFFITH GAUNT.strange alook and such forbidding words, that thecompany were disconcerted.Consternation fellon all present; and, ere long, they made theirexcuses,and left the house.was left alone with her husband.Thus the prisonerBut, meantime,curiosity had been excited by her strange conduct,and some of the servants, with foreboding hearts,listened at the door of the dining-room.did tney hear, gentlemen?WhatA furious quarrel,inwhich, however, the deceased was comparativelypassive, and the prisoner again threatened his life,with vehemence.Her passion, itjis clear, hadnot cooled." Now it may fairly be alleged, on behalf of theprisoner, that, the witnesses for the Crown wereon one side ofthe door, the prisoner and thedeceased on the other; and that such evidence— should be received with caution. Igrant this ■where it is not sustained by other circumstances,or by direct proofs. Let us then give the prisoner

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 177the benefit of this doubt, and let us inquire howthe deceased himself understood her; he who notonly heard the words, and the accents, but sawthe looks, whatever they were,that accompaniedthem." Gentlemen,he was a man of known courageand resolution; yet he was found after this terribleinterview, much cowed and dejected.Hespoke to Mrs. Ryder of his death as an eventnot far distant, and so went to his bedroom in amelancholy and foreboding state: and where wasthat bedroom ?He was thrust byhis wife's ordersinto a small chamber, and not allowed to enterhers:he, the master of the house,her husband,and her lord." But his interpretation of the prisoner's wordsdid not end there.by hisactions next ensuing.He left us afurther commentHe dared not(Ibegpardon, this is my inference;receive it as such),he did not, remain in that house a single night.VOL.III.N

178 GRIFFITH GAUNT.He bolted his chamber-door inside r and in thevery dead of night,notwithstanding the fatiguesof the day's journey(for he had ridden some distance),he let himself out by the window, andreached the ground safely, thoughit was a heightof fourteen feet; aleap, gentlemen, that few of uswould venture to take.But what will not menrisk when destruction is at their heels?He didnot wait even to saddle his horse; but fled onfoot,Unhappy man, he fled from danger, andmet his death." From the hour when he went up to bed noneof the inmates of the house ever sawGriffithGaunt alive;but one Thomas Hayes, a labourer,saw hini walking in a certain direction at oneo'clock that morning; and behind him, gentlemen,there walkedanother man." Who was that other man?" WhenIhave told you (and this is anessentialfeature of the case) how the prisoner wasemployed

GRIFFITH GAUNT.179during the time that her husband lay quaking inhis little room, waiting an opportunity to escape,— whenItell you this,Ifear jtouwill divine whoit was that followed the deceased, and for whatpurpose." Gentlemen, when the prisoner had threatenedher husband in person, asIhave described, sherethed to her own room,but not to sleep.Sheordered her maid, Mrs. Ryder, to bring ThomasLeicester to her chamber.Yes, gentlemen, shereceived this pedlar at midnight in her bedchamber." Now, anact so strange as this admits,Ithink,ofbut two interpretations.Either she had aguiltyauiour with this fellow, or she had some extraordinaryneed of his services.Her whole character,by consent of the witnesses,renders it very improbablethat she would descend to a low amour.Moreover she acted too publicly in the matter.The man, as we know, washer tool, her creature:N 2

180 GRIFFITH GAUNT.she had bought his wares for him, and set him upas a pedlar.She openly summoned him to herpresence, and kept him there about half-an-hour." He went from her,and very soon after is seen,by Thomas Hayes, following Griffith Gaunt — atoneo'clock in the morning — that Griffith Gaunt,who,after that hour, wasnever seen alive."Gentlemen,up to this point the evidence isclear, connected, and cogent;but it rarely happensincases of murder that any human eye seesthe very blow struck.The penalty is too severefor such an act to be done in the presence of aneye-witness:and not one murderer in ten couldbe convicted without the help of circumstantialevidence." The nextlink,however, is taken upbyan earwitness,and,in some cases, the ear is even betterthan the eye;for instance,as to the discharge offirearms:for, by the eye alone, wecould not positivelytell whether a pistol had gone off or had

GRIFFITH GAUNT.181but flashed in the pan. Well, then, gentlemen, afew minutes after Mr.Gaunt was last seen alive,which was by Thomas Hayes, Mrs. Ryder, whohad retired to her bedroom,heard the said Gauntdistinctly cry for help: she also heard a pistolshotdischarged. This took place by the side ofa lake or large pond near the house, called ' themere.'Mrs.Ryder alarmed the house, and sheand the other servants proceeded to her master'sroom:they found it bolted from the inside. Theybroke it open.Mr. Gaunt had escaped by thewindow7,asIhave already7 told you." Presently in comes the prisoner from out ofdoors.This is at one o'clock in the morning.Now she appears to have seen at once that shemust explain her being abroad at that time,so shetold Mrs.Ryder that she had been out — praying."(Here some people laughed harshly;but werethreatened severely, and silenced)." Is that credible ? Do people go out of doors

182 GRIFFITH GAUNT.at one o'clock in the morning, to pray?Nay;butIfear it was to do anact, that years of prayerand penitence cannot efface."From that moment Mr. Gaunt was seen nomore among living men. And what made hisdisappearance the more mysterious was that hehad actually at this time just inherited largelyfrom his namesake Mr. Gaunt of Coggleswade;and his owninterest,and that of theother legatees,required his immediate presence. Mr. Atkins,the testator's solicitor, advertisedfor this unfortunategentleman;but he did not appear toclaim bis fortune.Then plain menbegan to putthis and that together, and cried out ' foul play!'" Justice was set in motion at last:but embarrassedby the circumstance that the body of thedeceased couldnot be found." Atlast,Mr. Atkins, the solicitor,beingunableto get the estateIhave mentioned administered,for want of proof of Griffith Gaunt's decease,

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 183entered heartily into this affair, on mere civilgrounds. He asked the prisoner, before severalwitnesses,if she would permit him to drag thatpiece of waterby the side of whichMr. Gaunt washeard tocryfor help,and,after that, seen no more." The prisoner did not reply; but Mr.Houseman,her solicitor,a very worthy man, who hasIbelieve, or had, up to that moment, a sincereconviction of her innocence, answered for_ her,and told Mr.Atkins he was welcome to drag ordrain it. Then the prisoner said nothing.fainted away.She"After this, you may imagine with what expectationthe water was dragged.Gentlemen,after hours of fruitless labour, abody wasfound." Buthere anunforeseen circumstance befriendedthe prisoner.It seems thatpieceof water swarmswith enormous pike and other ravenous fish.These had so horribly mutilated the deceased,that neither form nor feature remained to swear

184 GRIFFITH GAUNT.by:and, as the law wiselyand humanely demandsthat in these cases a body shall be identifiedbeyond doubt, justice bade fair to be baffled again.But lo! as often happens in case of murder, Providenceinterposed and pointed with unerringfinger to aslight but infallible mark. Thedeceasedgentleman was known to have alarge mole overhisleft temple. It had been noticed by his servants,and his neighbours. Well, gentlemen, the greedyfish had spared this mole; spared it perhaps byHis command who bade the whale swallow Jonah,yet not destroy him. There it was, clear andinfallible. It was examined by several witnesses;it was recognized; it completed that chain ofevidence, some of it direct, some of it circumstantial,whichIhavelaid before you very briefly,and every part of whichIshall now support bycredible witnesses."He calledthirteen witnesses, including Mr.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 185Atkins, Thomas Hayes, Jane Bannister, CarolineRyder, and others, and their evidencein chiefbore out every positive statement the counsel hadmade.In cross-examining these witnesses Mrs. Gaunttook a line that agreeably surprised the court.It was not for nothing she had studied ahundredtrials with a woman's observation and patientdocility. She had found out how badly peopleplead their own causes, and had noticed thereasons; one of w:hich is that they say toomuch,and stray from the point. The line she took, withone exception, waskeen brevity.She cross-examined Thomas Hayes as follows:

186 GRIFFITH GAUNT.CHAPTER XL" You say the pedlar was ahundred yards behindmy husband.Which of the two men was walkingfastest ?"ThomasHayes considered a moment." Well,Ithink the Squire was walking rather thesmartest of the two."" Did the pedlar seem likely to overtakehim ?""Nay. Ye see, Dame, Squire he walkedstraight on; but the pedlar he took both sides ofthe road at onst,as the sayingis."The Prisoner. Forgive me, Thomas,butIdon'tknow what you mean.Hayes (compassionately). How should ye?

GRIFFITH GAUNT.187You are never the worse for liquor, the likes otyou.The Prisoner (very keenly).Oh, he was inliquor, washe?Hayes. Come, Dame, you do brew good ale atHernshaw Castle. Ye needn't go to deny that;for, Lord knows, 'tis no sin; and a poor fellowmay be jolly;yet not, to say, drunk.The Judge (sternly). Witness, attend, andanswer directly.TJie Prisoner. Nay, my lord, 'tis aplaincountrybody, and means no ill. Good Thomas, be somuch my friend as to answer plainly.man drunk or sober?Was theHayes. AllIknow is he went from one side ofthe road to t'other.The Prisoner. Thomas Hayes, as you hope tobe saved eternally7, was the pedlar drunk orsober ?Hayes. Well, ifImust tell on myneighbour or

188 GRIFFITH GAUNT.else be damned, then that there pedlar was asdrunk as alord.Here, notwithstanding the nature of the trial,the laughter was irrepressible, and Mrs. Gaunt satquietly down (for she was allowed a seat), andsaid no more.To the surgeon, who had examined the bodyofficially, she put this question, " Did youfind anysigns of violence?"The Surgeon. None whatever; but, then, therewas nothing to go by, except the head and thebones.The Prisoner. Have you experience in thiskind?bodies ?Imean, have you inspected murderedThe Surgeon. Yes.TJte Prisoner. How many?The Surgeon. Two before this.The Prisoner. Oh! pray, pray, do not say" before this:"I have great hopes no murder at

GRIFFITH GAUNT.189all hath been committed here. Let us keep toplain cases. Please you describe the injuries inthose two undoubted cases.The Surgeon. In Wellyn's the skull was fracturedin two places. In Sherrett's the right arm wasbroken, and there were some contusions on thehead; but the cause of death was a stab thatpenetrated the lungs.The Prisoner. Suppose Wellyn's murderers hadthrown his bodyinto the water,and the fishes hadso mutilated it as they have this one, could youby your art have detected the signs of violence ?The Surgeon. Certainly7. The man's skull wasfractured. WTellyn'sImean.The Prisoner.Iput the same question withregard to Sherrett's.The Surgeon.Icannot answer it: here thelungs were devoured by the fishes: no signs oflesion can be detected in an organ that hasceased to exist.

190 GRIFFITH GAUNT.The Prisoner. This is too partial. Why selectone injury out of several ? WhatIask is this:could you have detected violence in Sherrett'scase, although the fishes had eaten the flesh of hisbody.The Surgeon.Ianswer that the minor injuriesof Sherrett would have been equally perceptible;to wit, the bruises on the head, and the brokenarm;but not the perforation of the lungs; andthatit waskilled the man.Prisoner. Then, so far as you know, and canswear, about murder, more blows have alwaysbeen struck than one, and some of the blowsstruck in Sherrett's case, and Wellyn's, wouldhave left traces that fishes' teeth could not efface ?The Surgeon. That is so,ifIam to be peevishlyconfined to my small and narrow experience ofmurdered bodies.But my general knowledge ofthe many way7s in which life may be taken byviolence — —

GRIFFITH GAUNT.191The Judge stopped him, and said that, in acase of Blood, that could hardly be admitted asevidence against his actual experience.The prisoner put a drawingof the castle, themere, and the bridge, into the witnesses' hands,and elicited that it was correct, and also the distancesmarked on it. They had, in fact, beenmeasuredexactly for her.The hobnailed shoes were produced, and shemade some use of them, particularly in crossexaminingJane Bannister., Prisoner. Look at those shoes. Saw you everthe like onMr. Gaunt's feet ?Jane. ThatInever did,Dame.Prisoner. What, not when he came into thekitchen on the 15th October?Jane. Nay, he was booted. By the same tokenIsaw the boy a cleaning of them for supper.Prisoner. Those boots, when you broke into hisroom, did you find them?

192 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Jane. Nay, when the man went,his boots went;as reason was. We found nought of his but asoiledglove.Prisoner. Had the pedlar boots on ?Jane. Alas! who ever see'd a booted pedlar?Prisoner. Had he these very shoes on. Lookat them.Jane.Icouldn't say for that. He had shoon,for they did properly clatter on my bricks.The Judge. Clatter onher bricks! What doesshe mean?Prisoner.Ithink she means on the floor ofher kitchen. 'Tis a brick floor, ifIrememberright.The Judge. Good woman, say, is that what youmean?Jane. Ay, an't please you, my lord.Prisoner. Had the pedlar a mole on his forehead?Jane. Not thatIknow on. Inever took so

GRIFFITH GAUNT.193much notice of the man.Bat la, Dame, nowIlook at you,Idon't believe you was ever the oneto murder our master.Wiltshire. We don't want your opinion.Confineyourself to facts.Prisoner. Youheard merating my husband onthat night; — what was itIsaid about the constablesdo you remember ?Jane. La,Dame,Iwouldn't ask that ifIwasinyour place.Prisoner.Iam much obliged to you for vouradvice; but answer me — truly.Jane. Well, if you will have it,Ithink y7ousaid they should be here in the morning. But,indeed, good gentlemen, her bark was alwaysworse than her bite,poor soul.The Judge. Here. That meant at HernshawCastle,Ipresume.Jane. Ay, my lord, an' if it please your lordship'shonour's worship.vol.in.o

194 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Mrs. Gaunt, husbanding the patience Of thecourt, put no questions at all to several witnesses;but she cross-examined Mrs.Ryder very closely.This was necessary; for Ryder was a fatal witness.Her memory had stored every rash andhasty word the poor lady had uttered, and, influencedeither by animosity or prejudice, she putthe worst colour on every suspicious circumstance.She gave her damnatory evidence neatly, andclearly, and with a seeming candour and regret,that disarmed suspicion.When her examination in chief concluded,there was but one opinion amongst the bar, andthe auditors in general, viz., that the maid hadhung the mistress.Mrs. Gaunt herself felt she had a terribleantagonist to deal with, and, when she rose tocross-examine her, she looked paler than she haddone all through the trial.She rose, but seemed to ask herself how to

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 195"begin: and her pallor and her hesitation, whilethey excited some little sympathy, confirmed theunfavourable impression. She fixed her eyesupon the witnesses,*as if to discover where shewas most vulnerable.Mrs. Ryder returned hergaze calmly. The court was hushed; for it wasevident a duel was coming between two womenof no common ability.The opening rather disappointed expectation.Mrs. Gaunt seemed, by7 her manner, desirous topropitiate the w-itness.Prisoner (very civilly). You say jrou broughtThomas Leicester to my bedroom on that terriblenight ?Byder (civilly).Yes,madam.Prisoner. And you say he stayed there half-anhour?Byder. Yes, madam ;he did.Prisoner. MayIinquire howstayed justhalf-an-hour ?you know heo 2

196 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Ryder. My watch told me that, madam. Ibrought him to you at a quarter past eleven:andyou did not ring for me till a quarter to twelve.Prisoner. And, whenIdid ring for you, whatthen?Ryder.Icame and took the man away,by y7ourorders.Prisoner. At a quarter to twelve?Ryder. At a quarter to twelve.Prisoner. This Leicester was alover of yours?Ryder. Not he.Prisoner. Oh, fie! Why he offered you marriage;itwent so far as that.Ryder. Oh, that was before you set him uppedlar.Prisoner. 'Twas so, but he was single foryour sake, and he renewed his offer that vervnight. Come, do not forswear yourself about atrifle.Ryder. Trifle, indeed! Why, if he did, what

GRIFFITH GAUNT.has that to do with the murder ?197You'll do yourselfno good,madam, by going about so.Wiltshire. Really, madam, this is beside themark.Prisoner. If so, it can do your case noharm. My lord, you did twice interrupt thelearned counsel, and forebade him to lead hiswitnesses;Inot once, forIam for stoppingno mouths, but sifting all to the bottom. Now,Iimplore you to let me have fair play inmy turn, and an answer from this slipperywitness.The Judge. Prisoner,Ido not quite see yourdrift; but God forbid you should be hampered inyour defence. Witness, by virtue of your oath,reply directly. Did this pedlar offer you marriagethat night after he left the prisoner ?Ryder. My lord,he did.Prisoner. And confided to youhe hadorders tokill Mr.Gaunt?

198 "GRHTITH GAUNT.Ryder. Not he, madam: that was not the wayto win me.Prisoner. What! did not his terrible purposepeep out all the time he was makinglove to you?No reply.Prisoner. You had the kitchen to your twoselves ?Come, don't hesitate.Ryder. The other servants were gone to bed.Youkept the man so late.Prisoner. Oh,Imean no reflection on yourprudence. You went out of doors with yourWooer;just to see him off ?Ryder. Not I. What for ?Ihad nobody tomake away with.Ijust opened the door for him,boltedit after him, and went straight to my bedroom.Prisoner. How long had you been there whenyou heard the cry for help ?Ryder. Scarce ten minutes.my stays off.Ihad not taken

GRIFFITH GAUNT,199Prisoner. If you and Thomas Hayes speaktrue, that gives half an hour you were makinglovewith the murderer after he left me.correct?AmIThe witness now saw whither she had been led,and changedher manner: she became sullen, andwatched an opportunity to stab.Prisoner. Had he a mole onhis brow ?Ryder. Not thatIknow of.Prisoner. Why, where were your eyes, then,when the murderer saluted yrou at parting?Ryder's eyes flashed; but she felt her tempertried,and governed it all the more severely. Shetreated the question with silent contempt.Prisoner. But you pass for a discreet woman;perhaps you looked modestly down when theassassin saluted you?Ryder. Ifhe saluted me,perhapsIdid.Prisoner. In that case you could not see hismole; but you must have noticed his shoes.

' 200 GRU-FITH GAUNT.Were these the shoes he wore? Look at themwell.Ryder (after inspecting them). Ido notrecognisethem.Prisoner. Will you swear these were not theshoes he bad on ?Ryder. How can Iswear that? Iknownothing about the man's shoes. If you please,my lord, amIto be kept here all day with herfoolish trifling questions?The Judge. All day,and all night too,if Justicerequires it. The law is not swift to shed blood.Prisoner. My lord and the gentlemen of thejury werehere before you, and will be kept hereafter you. Prithee attend. Look at that drawingof Hernshaw Castle and Hernshaw Mere. Nowtake this pencil, and mark your bedroom on thedrawing,The pencil was taken from the prisoner, andhanded to Ryder. She waited like a cat till it

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 201came close to her; then recoiled with au admirable"scream. Me handle a thing hot fromthe hand of a murderess! It makes metrembleall over."This cruel stab affected the prisoner visibly.She put her hand to her bosom, and with tearsinher eyes faltered out a request to the judge thatshe might sit down aminute.The Judge. To be sure you may7. And you,my good woman, must not runbefore the court,How do you know what evidence she may havein store?side.At present we have only heard oneBe more moderate.The prisoner rose promptly to her feet," Mylord,Iwelcome the insult that has disgusted yourlordship and the gentlemen of the jury, and won—me those good words of comfort." To Ryder" What sort of anight wasit?"Ryder. Very little moon, but a clear, starrynight.

202 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Prisoner. Could you see the Mere, and thebanksRyder. Nay, but so much of it as faced mywindow.Prisoner. Have youmarked your window ?Ryder.Ihave.Prisoner. Now mark the place where you heardMr. Gaunt cry for help.Ryder. 'Twas about here; under these trees.And that is whyIcould not see him: along ofthe shadow.Prisoner. Possibly. Did you see me on thatside the Mere?Ryder. No.Prisoner. What coloured dress hadIon at thattime?Ryder. White satin.Prisoner. Then you could have seen me, evenamong the trees, hadIbeen on that side theMere ?

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 203Ryder.Ican't say. However,Inever said youwere on the very spot where the deed was done;but you were out of doors.Prisoner. How do you know that ?Ryder. Why, you told me soyourself.Prisoner. Then that is my evidence, not yours.Swear to no more than you know. Had myhusband, toyour knowledge,a reason for abscondingsuddenly ?Ryder. Yes, he had.Prisoner. What wasit ?Ryder. Fear of you.Prisoner. Nay,Imean, had he not somethingto fear, something quite different from thatIamcharged with?Ryder. You know best, madam. Iwouldgladly serve you, butIcannot guess what youaredriving at.The prisoner was taken aback by this impudentreply. She hesitated to force her servant to

204 GRIFFITH GAUNT.expose a husband,whom shebelieved to be living:andher hesitation looked like discomfiture;andRyder was victorious in that, encounter.By this time they were both thoroughly emdittered,anditwas warto the knife.Prisoner. Youlistened to our unhappy quarrelthat night ?Ryder. Quarrel!madam, Jtwas all on one side.Prisoner. How did you understand whatIsaidto him about the constables ?Ryder. Constables!Inever heard you say theword.Prisoner. Oh!Ryder. Neither when you threatened him withyour knife to me;nor when you threatened himto his face.Prisoner. Take care: you forget that JaneBannister heard me ; was her ear nearer the keyholethan yours?Ryder. Jane! she is a simpleton.You could

GRIFFITH GAUNT.205make her think she heard anything. Inoticedyou put the words in her mouth.Prisoner. God forgive y7ou, you naughtywoman. Youhad better have spoken the truth.Ryder. — My lord, if you please, amIto bemiscalled by a murderess ?TJie Judge. Come, come, this is no place forrecrimination.The prisoner now stooped and examined herpapers, and took a distinct line of cross-examination.Prisoner (with apparent carelessness). At allevents,you are a virtuous woman,Mrs. Ryder?Ryder. Yes, madam, as virtuous as yourself, tosay the least.Prisoner (still more carelessly). Married orsingle?Ryder. Single, and like to be.Prisoner. Yes, ifIremember right,Imade apoint of thatbeforeIengaged you as my maid.

206 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Ryder.Ibelieve the'question was put.Prisoner. Here is the answer in your handwriting.Is not that your handwriting?Ryder (after inspectingit). Itis.Prisoner. You came highly recommended byyour last mistress, a certain Mrs. Hamilton.Here is her letter, describing you as a model.Ryder. Well, madam, hithertoIhave givensatisfaction to all my mistresses,Mrs. Hamiltonamong the rest. My character does not rest onher wordonly7,Ihope.Prisoner. Excuse me;Iengaged you on herword alone. Now, whois this Mrs.Hamilton ?Ryder. A worshipful ladyIserved for eightmonths beforeIcame to you.orIshould be with her now.She went abroad,Prisoner. Now cast your eye over this paper.It was the copy of amarriage certificate betweenThomas Edwards and Caroline Plunkett." Who is this Caroline Plunkett?"

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 207Ryder turned very pale, and made no reply." Iask you who is this Caroline Plunkett ?Ryder (faintly). Myself.The Judge. Why, yrou saidyou weresingle!Ryder. SoIam; as good as single. Myhusband and me we parted eight years ago, andIhave never seenhim since.Prisoner.Was it quite eight years ago?Ryder. Nearly, 'twas inMay, 1739.Prisoner. But you have lived with him since.Ryder. Never, uponmy soul.Prisoner. When was your child born?Ryder. My chfld!Ihave none.Prisoner. In January7,1743, you left a babyatBiggleswade, with a woman called Church — didyou not ?Ryder (panting).sister's.Of courseIdid. It was myPrisoner. Do you mean to call God to witnessthat child was not.yours?

208 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Ryder hesitated.Prisoner. Will you swear Mrs. Church did notseeyounurse that childin secret, and weepoverit ?At this question the perspiration stood visibleon Ryder's brow, her checks were ghastly, andher black eyes roved like someround the court.wild animal'sShe saw her own danger, andhad no means of measuring her inquisitor's information." My lord, have pity on me. Iwas betrayed,abandoned. Why amIso tormented ?Ihavenot committed murder."and scratched at once.So, catlike, she squealedPrisoner. What! to swear away an innocentlife, is not that murder ?Tlie Judge. Prisoner, we make allowances foryour sex,and yourperil, but you must not remarkon the evidence at present.Examine as severelyas you will, but abstain from comment till youaddress the jury on your defence.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.209Serjeant Wiltshire. My lord,Isubmit that thisline of examination is barbarous, and travels outof the case entirely7.Prisoner. Not so, Mr. Serjeant. 'Tis done byadvice of an able lawyer. My life is in perilunlessIshake this witness's credit, To that endIshow you she is incontinent, and practised infalsehood. Unchastity has been held in thesecourts to disqualify a female witness, hathit not,my lord?The Judge. Hardly7. But to disparage herevidence it has. And wisely; for she who losesher virtue enters on alife of deceit; and lying isa habit that spreads from one thing to many.Much wisdom there is in ancient words. Ourforefathers taught us to call a virtuous woman anhonest woman, and the law does but follow inthat track; still, however, leaving much to thediscretionof the jury.Prisoner.Iwould show her more mercy thanVOL. III.p

210 GRIFFITH GAUNT.she has shown to me. ThereforeIleave thatmatter. Witness, be so goodas to examine Mrs.Hamilton's letter, and compare it with your own.The " y's" and the " s's" are peculiar inboth, andyet the same. Come, confess;Mrs. Hamilton'sis a forgery. You wrote it. Be pleased to handboth letters up to my lord to compare; thedisguise is but thin.Ryder. Forgery there was none. There is noMrs. Hamilton. (She burst into tears.) Ihad mychild to provide for, and no man to help me!What wasIto do ? A servant must live.Prisoner. Then why not let her mistress live,whose bread she has eaten ? My lord, shall notthis false witness be sent hence to prison forperjury ?Wiltshire. Certainly not. What woman onearthis expected to reveal her own shame uponoath? 'Twas not fair nor human to put suchquestions. Come, madam, leave torturing this

GRIFFITH GAUNT.211poor creature. Show some mercy; you mayneed ityourself.The Prisoner. Sir, 'tis not mercyIask, butjustice according to law. But, since you do methe honour to makeme arequest,Iwill comply7,and ask her but one questionmore. Describe myapartment into which you showed ThomasLeicester that night, Begin at the outer door.Ryder. First there is the ante-room;then theboudoir;then there's your bed-chamber.Prisoner. Into which of those three did youshow Thomas Leicester?Ryder. Into the ante-room.Prisoner. Then why did you sayit was in mychamberIentertained him?Ryder. Madam,Imeant no more than that itwas your private apartment upstairs.Prisoner. You contrived to make the gentlementhink 6therwise.The Judge. That you did. 'Tis down in myp 2

212 GRIFFITH GAUNT.notes that she received the pedlar in her bedchamber.Ryder (sobbing). Godis my witnessIdid notmean to mislead your lordship: andIask mylady's pardon for not being more exact in thatparticular.At this the prisoner bowed tothe judge, and satdown with one victorious flash of her grey eye atthe witness, who was in an abject condition offear, and hungall about the witness-box limp as awet towel.Serjeant Wiltshire sawshe was so thoroughlycowed she would be apt to truckle, and soften herevidence to propitiate the prisoner; so he askedher but one question." Were you and the prisoner on good terms ?"Ryder. On the best of terms.a good and liberal mistress to me.Wiltshire.Iwill not prolong y7oufYoumay go down.She was alwayssufferings.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 213The Judge. But you will not leave the court tillthis trial is ended.Ihave grave doubts whetherIought not to commit y-ou.Unfortunately for the prisoner, Ryder wasnot the last witness for the Crown. The othersthat followed were so manifestly honest thatit would have been impolitic to handle themseverely7. The prisoner, therefore, put veryfew questions to them; and, when the lastwitness went down, the case looked very formidable.Theevidence for the Crown being nowcomplete,the judge retired for some refreshment;and thecourt buzzed like a hum of bees. Mrs. Gaunt'slips and throat were parched; and her heartquaked.A womanof quite the lower order thrust fortha great arm, and gave her an orange. Mrs.Gaunt thanked her sweetly:and the juice relievedher throat.

214 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Also this bit of sympathy was of good omen,and did her heart good.She buried her face inher hands, and collectedall her powers for the undertaking before her.She had noted down the exact order of her topics,but no more.The judge returned; the crier demandedsilence; and the prisoner rose, and turned hereyes modestly but steadily upon those who heldher life in their hands: and, true to the wisdomof her sex, the first thing she aimed at was — toplease." My lord,and you gentlemen of the jury,Iamnow to reply to a charge of murder, founded on alittle testimony, and a gooddeal of false, but,Imust needs say, reasonable conjecture."I am innocent; but unlike other innocentpersons who have stood here before me,Ihave noman to complain of.'The magistrates who committed me pro-

GRIFFITH GAUNT.215ceeded with due caution and humanity: theyweighed my hitherto unspotted reputation, andwere in no hurry to prejudge me; here,in thiscourt,Ihave met with much forbearance; thelearned counsel for the Crown has made me groanunder his abilities; that was his duty; but hesaid from the first he would do nothinghard, andhe has kept his word; often he might havestopped me;Isaw it in his face: but, being agentleman and a Christian, as well as a learnedlawyer, methinks he said to himself, 'this is apoor gentlewoman pleading for her life;let herhave some little advantage.' As for my lord, hehas promised to be my counsel, so far as his highstation, and duty to the Crown, admit; and hehas supported and consoled me more than oncewith words of justice, that would not,Ithink,have encouraged a guilty person, but have comfortedand sustained me beyond expression. SothenIstand here, the victim, not of man's in-

216 GRIFFITH GAUNT.justice,but of deceitful appearances,and of honest,but hasty and loose conjectures." These conjectures Ishall now sift, and hopeto show you how hollow they are." Gentlemen, in every disputed matter the bestway,Iam told,is to begin by settling what bothparties are agreed in,and so to narrowthe matter.To use that way, then,Ido heartily agree withthe learned counselthat murder is a heinouscrime, and that, black asit is at the best, yetitisstill more detestable when 'tis a wife that murdersher husband, and robs her child of aparent whocan never be replaced."I also agree with him that circumstantialevidence is often sufficient to convict a murderer;and, indeed, were it not so, that most monstrousof crimes would go oftenest unpunished:since, ofall culprits, murderers do most shun the eyes ofmen in their dark deeds, and so provide beforehandthat direct testimony to their execrable

GRIFFITH GAUNT.217crime there shall be none.Only hereinIamadvised to take a distinction that escaped thelearned serjeant;Isay that first of all it oughtto be proved directly, and to the naked eye,thata man has been murdered;and then,if none sawthe crime done,let circumstances point out themurderer." But here, they put the cart before the horse;they find a dead body, with no marks of violencewhatever; and labour to prove by circumstantialevidence alone that this mere dead body is amurdered body.This,Iam advised, is bad inlaw, and contrary to general precedents; and theparticular precedents for it are not examples, butwarnings; since both the prisoners so rashlyconvicted were proved innocent, after their execution."(The judge took a noteof this distinction.)"Then, to go from principles to the facts,Iagree and admit that, in a moment of anger,I

218 GRIFFITH GAUNT.was so transported out of myself as to threatenmy husband's life before Caroline Ryder. Butafterwards, whenIsaw him face to face, then, thatIthreatenedhim with violence, thatIdeny. Thefact isIhad just learned that he had committed acapital offence:and whatIthreatened him withwas the law. This was proved by JaneBannister.She says she heard me say the constables shouldcome for him next morning. For what? tomurder him?"The Judge. Give me leave, madam. Shall youprove Mr.Gaunthad committed a capital offence ?Prisoner.Icould,my lord; butIam loth to doit. For,ifIdid,Ishould cast him into worsetrouble thanIamin myself.The Judge (shaking his head gravely). Letme advise you to advance nothingyou are notable and willing to prove.The Prisoner. Then,Iconfine myself to this:it wasprovedby a witness for the Crown that in

GRIFFITH GAUNT.219the dining-roomIthreatened my husband to hisface with the law.Now this threat, and not thatother extravagant threat, which he never heardyou know, was clearly the threat which causedhim to abscond that night." In the next place,Iagree with the learnedcounsel thatIwas out of doors at One o'clock thatmorning.But if he will use me as his witnessinthat matter, then he must not pick and chooseand mutilate my testimony.Nay, let him takethe whole truth, and not just so much as he cansquare with the indictment.Either believe me,thatIwas out of doors praying,or do not believeme thatIwas out of doors at all." Gentlemen,hear the simple truth. You maysee in the map, on the south side of HernshawCastle, a grove of large fir-trees.'Tis a reverendplace, most fit for prayer and meditation.HereIhave prayed a thousand times and more beforethe fifteenth October.Hence 'tis called 'the

220 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Dame's haunt,'asIshall prove, that am the dame'tis called after."Letit not seem incredible to you thatIshouldpray out of doors in my grove, on a fine clearstarry night, For aughtIknow,Protestants may7pray only by the fireside. But,remember,Iama Catholic. We are not so contracted in our praying.We do not confine it tolittle comfortableplaces. Nay, but for seventeen hundred years andmore wehave prayed out of doors as much as indoors. And this our custom is no fit subject fora shallow sneer. How does the learned serjeantknow that,beneath the vault of heaven at night,studded with those angelic eyes, the stars, is anunfit place to bend the knee, and raise the soulinprayer ? Has he ever tried it?'This suddenappeal to a learned and eminent,but by no means devotional, serjeant, so tickledthe gentlemen of the bar, that they burst outlaugliing with singular unanimity

GRIFFITH GAUNT.221This dashed the prisoner, who had not intendedto be funny; and she hesitated, and looked distressed.Tlie Judge. Proceed, madam; these remarks ofyours are singular, but quite pertinent, and no fitsubject for ridicule. Gentlemen, remember thepublic looks to youfor an example.Prisoner. My Lord, 'twas my fault for makingthat personal which should be general. Butwomen they are so. 'Tis our foible.Ipray thegood serjeant to excuseme."I say, then, generally, that when the sunretires, then earth fades, but heaven comes outin tenfold glory:andIsay the starry firmamentat night is a temple not built with hands,and thebare sight of it subdues the passions, chastens theheart, and aids the soul in prayer surprisingly.My lord, asIam a Christian woman, 'tis true thatmy7 husband had wronged me cruelly and brokenthe law. 'Tis true thatIraged against him and

222 GRIFFITH GAUNT.he answered me not again.'Tis true, as thatwitness said, that my bark is worse than mybite. Icooled, and then feltIhad forgotten thewife and the Christian,inmy wrath. Irepented,and, to be more earnest in my penitence,Ididgo and pray out o' doors beneath those holy eyesof heaven that seemed to look clown with chastereproach on my ungoverned heat.Ileft my fireside,myvelvet cushions,andall the little comfortsmade by human hands, that adorn our earthlydwellings, but distract oureyes from God."Some applause followed this piece of eloquence,exquisitely uttered.It was checked,and the prisonerresumed, with an entire change of manner." Gentlemen, the case against me is like apieceof rotten wood varnished all over.It looks fairto the eye;but willnot bear handling." Asexample of whatIsay, take three chargeson which the learned serjeant greatly relied onopeninghis case:

GRIFFITH GAUNT.223" 1st. ThatIreceived Thomas Leicester inmybedroom." 2nd. That he went hot from me after Mr.Gaunt." 3rd. That he was seen following Mr. Gauntwith a bloody intent." How ugly these three proofs looked at firstsight!Well, but when we squeezed the witnessesever so little, what did these threedwindle down to?" 1st. ThatIreceived Thomas Leicester in anante-room, which leadsto a boudoir, and thatboudoir leads tomy bedroom." 2nd. That Thomas Leicester went from me tothe kitchen, and there, for a good half-hour,drankmy ale (asit appears),and made love to his oldsweetheart, Caroline Ryder, the falsewitness forthe Crown; and went abroad fresh from her, andnot from me."3rd. That he was not (to speak strictly) seen

224 GRIFFITH GAUNT.followingMr.Gaunt,but just walking on the sameroad, drunk, and staggering,and going at such arate that,as the Crown's own witness swore, hecould hardly in the natureof things overtake Mr.Gaunt, who walked quicker, and straighter too,than he." So then, evenif a murder has been done, theyhave failed toconnect Thomas Leicester with it,or me with Thomas Leicester.Two broken linksin a chain of but three." And now Icome to the more agreeable partof my defence.Ido think there has been nomurder at all." There is no evidence of amurder" Abody is found with the flesh eatenby fishes,but the bones, and the head, uninjured.Theyswear a surgeon, who has examined the body, andcertainly he had the presumption to guessit lookslike amurdered body.But,being sifted, he wasforced to admit that, so far as his experience of

GRIFFITH GAUNT.225murdered bodies goes, it is not like a murderedbody;for there is no bone broken, nor bruise onthehead."Where is the body found?In the water.But water by itself is a sufficient cause of death,aud a common cause too;and kills withoutbreakingbones,or bruising- the head.0 perversity ofthe wise! For every one creature murdered inEngland, ten are accidentally drowned; and theyfind a dead man in the water, which is as much asto saythey find the slainin the armsof the slayer;yet they do not once suspect the water, but goabout in search of a strange and monstrous crime." Mr. Gaunt's cry for help was heard here, if itwas heard at all (whichIgreatly doubt), here bythis clump of trees: the body was found here,hard by the bridge;which is, by measurement,one furlong and sixty paces from that clump oftrees, asIshall prove.There is no current in themere lively enough to move a body7, and whatVOL. in.Q

226 GRIFFITH GAUNT.there is runs the wrong way.the cry for help, and the dead body.So this disconnectsAnotherbroken link!" And nowIcome to my third defence,Isaytne body is not the bodyof Griffith Gaunt." The body7, mutilated it was, had two distinguishingmarks: a mole on the brow, and a pairof hobnailed shoes on the feet." Now the advisersof theCrown fix their eyes onthatmole;but they turn their heads away from thehobnailed shoes. But why? Articles of raimentfound on a body are legal evidence of identity.How often, my lord, in cases of murder, hath theCrown relied on suchparticulars, especially in caseswhere corruption had obscured the features." Ishall not imitate this partiality, this obstinateprejudice;Ishall not ask you to shut your eyeson the mole, as they do on the shoes, but shallmeet the whole truth fairly." Mr.Gaunt went from my house,that morning,

GRIFFITH GAUNT.227with boots on his feet, and with a mole on hisbrow."Thomas Leicester went the same road, withshoes on his feet, and, asIshall prove, with amole on his brow." To be sure the Crown witnesses did not distinctlyadmit thismole on him;but, you will remember,they darednot denyitontheir oaths,andso run their headsinto an indictment for perjury." But, gentlemen,Ishall put seven witnessesinto the box, who will all swear that they haveknown Thomas Leicester for years,and that hehad a mole upon his left temple." One of these witnesses is— the mother thatbore him."I shall then call witnesses to prove that, onthe fifteenth of October, the bridge over themere wasinbad repair,and aportion of the siderail gone; and that the body was found within afew yards of that defective bridge; and then,asQ 2

228 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Thomas Leicester went that way, drunk, and staggeringfromside to side, you may reasonablyinferthat he fell into the water inpassing the bridge.To show you this is possible,Ishall prove the samething has actually occurred.Ishall sw7ear theoldest man in the parish, who will depose to asimilar event that happened in his boyhood. Hehath said it a thousand times before to-day, andnow will swear it. He will tell you that on acertain clay, sixty-nine years ago, the parson ofHernshaw, the Rev. Augustus Murthwaite, wentto cross this bridge at night, after carousing atHernshaw Castle with our great-grandfather, myhusband's and mine, the then proprietor of Hernshaw;and tumbled into the water; and his bodyw-asfound, gnawed out of the very form ofhumanity by the fishes, within a yard or two ofthe spot where poor Tom Leicester was found,that hath cost us all this trouble.So do the samecauses bring round the same events ina cycle of

GRIFFITH GAUNT.229years. The ' only7 difference is that the parsondrank his death inour dining-room,and the pedlarin our kitchen."No doubt,my lord, you have observed thatsometimes a hasty and involuntary inaccuracygives quite a wrong colour to a thing. IassureyouIhave suffered by this. It is said that themoment Mr. Atkins proposed to drag my mere,Ifainted away. In this account there is an omission.Ishallprove that Mr. Atkins used thesewords — 'And, underneath that water,Iundertaketo find the remains of Griffith Gaunt.' Now,gentlemen, you shall understand that at thistime, and indeed until the moment whenIsawthe shoes upon that poor corpse's feet,Iwas ingreat terror for my husband's life. How could itbe otherwise? Caroline Ryder had told me sheheard his cry for help. He had disappeared.What wasIto think-? Ifeared be had fallenin with robbers. Ifeared all manner of things.

230 GRIFFITH GAUNT.So when the lawyer said so positively he wouldfind his body,Iwas overpowered.Ah, gentlemen,wedded love survives many wrongs, manyangry words;Ilove my husband still; and,when the man told me so brutally that he wascertainly dead,Ifainted away. Iconfess it.ShallIbe hanged for that?" But now, thank God,I am full of hope thathe is alive, and that goodhope has given me thecourage to make this great effort to save my ownlife..HithertoIhave been able to contradict myaccusers positively; but nowIcome to amysteriouscircumstance thatIown puzzles me. Mostpersons accused of murder could,if they chose,make a clean breast, and tell you the wholematter. But this is not my case. Iknow shoesfrom boots,andIknow Kate Gaunt from a liarand a murderess; but, when all is said, this isstill a dark mysterious business, and there are

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 231things in itIcan only deal with asyou do,gentlemen, by bringing my wits to bear upontheminreasonable conjecture." CarolineRyder swearssheheardMr. Gauntcryfor help. AndMr.Gaunt has certainly disappeared." My accusers have somewhat weakened this bytryingtopalm off the body of Thomas Leicesteron y7ou for the body of Mr. Gaunt,But theoriginal mystery remains, and puzzles me.Imight fairly appeal to you to disbelieve thewitness.She is proved incontinent, and a practisedliar,and she forswore herself in this court,and my lord is in two minds about committingher.But a liar does not always lie, and, to behonest,Ithink she really believes she heardMr.Gaunt cry for help,for she went straight to hisbedroom; and that looks as if she really thoughtshe heardhis voice.But aliar may be mistaken;do not forget that.Distance affects the voice:andIthink the voice she heard was Thomas

232 GRIFFITH GAUNT,Leicester's, and the place it came from higher upthe mere." This, my notion,will surprise you less whenIprove to you that Leicester's voicebore afamily likeness to Mr. Gaunt's.Ishall call twowitnesses who have been out shooting withMr. Gaunt and Tom Leicester, and have heardLeicester hallooMr.Gaunt.in the wood, and taken it for"MustItell you the whole truth?ThisLeicester has always passed for anillegitimate sonofMr. Gaunt's father.He resembled my husbandin form, stature, and voice: he had the Gauntmole, and has often spoken of it by that name.My husband forgave him many faults for no otherreason, — andIbought his wares andfilled hispack for no other reason,— than this;that he wasmy husband's brother by nature,though not in'law. HONI SOIT QUI MAL Y PENSE.'" Ah, that is a royal device; yet how often in

GRIFFITH GAUNT.233this business have the advisers of the Crown forgottenit?" My lord, and gentlemenof the jury,Ireturnfrom these conjectures to the indisputable facts ofmy defence."Mr. Gaunt may be alive,or may be dead.He was certainly alive on the fifteenth October,and it lies on the Crown to prove him dead, andnot on me to prove him alive.But, as for thebody that forms the subject of this indictment, itis the body of Thomas Leicester, who was seen onthe sixteenth October, at one in the morning,drunk and staggering, and making for Hernshawbridge, which leads tohis mother's house ;and onall his former visits to Hernshaw Castle he wenton to his mother's, asIshall prove.This time,he neverreached her, asIshall prove;but onhiswayto her did meet his death by the will of God,andno fault of manor woman,in Hernshaw Mere." Swear Sarah Leicester."

234 GRIFFITH GAUNT.The Judge.Ithink you say you have severalwitnesses?Prisoner. More than twenty, my lord.Tlie Judge. We cannot possibly dispose of themthis evening. We will hear your evidence tomorrow.Prisoner, this will enable you to consultwith your legal advisers, and let me urge uponyou to prove,if you can, that Mr. Gaunt has asufficient motive for hiding and not answeringMr. Atkins' invitation to inherit a large estate.Some such proof is necessary to complete yourdefence: andIam sorry to see y-ou have made nomention of it in your address, which was otherwiseable.Prisoner. My lord,IthinkIcan prove my owninnocence without casting a slur upon my husband.The Judge. You think ? when your life is atstake.Be not so mad as toleave so large aholein your defence,if you canmendit. Take advice.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 235He said this very solemnly;then rose and lefttho court,Mrs. Gaunt was conveyed back to prison, andthere was soon prostrated by the depression thatfollows anunnatural excitement.Mr. Houseman found her on the sofa, paleand dejected, and clasping the gaoler's wife convulsively,who appliedhartshorn to her nostrils.He proved but a Job'scomforter. Her defence,creditable asit was to a novice, seemed wordy andweak to him,a lawyer:and he was horrified atthe admissions she had made. In her place hewould have admitted nothing he could notthroughly explain.He came to insist ona change of tactics.When he saw her sad condition, he tried tobegin by consoling, and encouraging her. Buthis own serious misgivings unfitted him for thistask,and very soon, notwithstanding the state shewas in,he wasalmost scolding her for being somad

236 GRIFFITH GAUNT.as to withstand the judge,and set herself againsthis advice." There," said he," my lord kept hisword,and became counsel for you.' Close thatgap in your defence,' says he, ' and you will verylikely be acquitted.'' Nay,' says you,' Ipreferto chance it.' What madness! what injustice !"" Injustice !to whom?"" To whom? why, to y7ourself."" What,mayInot be unjust to myself?"" Certainly not;you have no right to be unjustto anybody.Don't deceive yourself; there is novirtue in this: it is mere miserable weakness.What right have you to peril an innocentlife merely to screen the malefactor from justobloquy?"" Alas !" said Mrs. Gaunt, " 'tis more thanobloquy.They will kill him; they will brandhim with ahot iron."" Notunless he is indicted:and who will indicthim ?Sir George Neville must be got to muzzle

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 237the Attorney-General,and the Lancashire jade willnot moveagainst him, for you say they arelivingtogether."" Of course they are:and, as y7ou say, whyshouldIscreen him?can combat prejudice ?But 'twill not serve, whoIf whatIhave said doesnot convince them, an angel's voice would not.Sir,Iam a Catholic, and they will hang me.shall die miserably, having exposed my husband,who lovedme once, oh!so dearly.Itrifled withhis love.Ideserveit all.""You will not die atall, if you will onlybe good and obedient, and listen to wiser heads.Ihave subpSnaed Caroline Ryder as yourwitness, and given her a liint how to escapean indictment for perjury.You will find hersupple as a glove."" Call a rattlesnake for my witness ?"" Ihave drawn her fanes. You will also callISir George Neville, to provehe saw Gaunt's

238 GRIFFITH GAUNT.picture at the ' Packhorse,' and heard the -otherwife's tale.Wiltshire will object to this as evidence,and say why don't you produce Mercy Vintherself.Then you will call me to prove thatIsent the subpSna to Mercy Vint.cannot eat or sleep till you promise me."Mrs. Gaunt sighed deeply.she, '■ Iam worn out.the trial begins again!"Come now,I"Spare me," saidOh thatIcould die beforeHouseman saw the signs of yielding, and persisted." Come, promise now," said he." Thenj7ou will feel better.""I will do whatever you bid me," said she." Only,if they let me off,Iwill go into a convent.No power shall hinder me."" You shall go where you like, except to thegallows.Enough, 'tis a promise, andIneverknew you to break one.NowIcan eat mysupper. You arc a good obedient child,andIama happyattorney.'

" AndIam the most miserable woman in allGRIFFITH GAUNT.239England."" Child," said the worthy lawyer," your spiritshave given way,because they were strung so high.Youneed repose. Go tobed now,and sleep twelvehours. Believe me you will wake another woman.""Ah! wouldIcould!" cried Mrs. Gaunt, withall the eloquence of despair.Houseman murmured a few more consolingwords,andthen left her, after once moreexactinga promise that she would receive no more visits,but go to bed directly.She was to send all intrudersto him at the " Angel."Mrs.Gaunt proceeded to obey his orders, andthoughit wasbut eight o'clock, she made preparationsfor bed, and then went to hernightly devotions.She was in sore trouble; and earthly troubleturns the heart heavenwards.withher.Yet it was not soThe deep languor, that oppressed her,

240 GRIFFITH GAUNT.seemed to have reached her inmost soul. Herbeads, falling one by one from her hand, denotedthe number of her supplications; but, for once,they werepreces sine mente dictæ. Her faith w-ascold, her belief in Divine justice was shaken for atime. She began to doubt and to despond. Thatbitter hour, which David has sung so well, andBunyan, from experience,has described inhis biographyas well as inhis novel,sat heavyuponher,as ithad on many a true believer before her. Sodeep was the gloom, so paralysing the languor,that at last she gave up all endeavour to utterwords of prayer. She placed her crucifix at thefoot of the wall, and laid herself down on theground and kissed His feet, then drawing back,gazed upon that effigy of the mortal sufferings ofour Redeemer."0 anima Christiana, respice vulnera patientis,sanguinem morientis, precem redemptionisnostræ."

GRIFFITH GAUNT.241She had lain thus a good half-hour, when agentle tap came to the door." Who is that?" said she." Mrs.Menteith,"the gaoler's wifereplied, softly,and asked leave to come in.Now this Mrs. Menteith had been very kind toher,and stoutly maintained her innocence.Gaunt rose, and invited her in.Mrs."Madam," said Mrs. Menteith, "whatIcomefor, there is a person below who much desires tosee you."" Ibeg to be excused," was the reply.must go to my solicitorHouseman."" Heat the ' Angel,' Mr.Mrs.Menteith retired withthat message, but inabout five minutes returned to say that the youngwomandeclined to go to Mr. Houseman, andbegged hard to see Mrs. Gaunt," And, Dame,"said she, " ifIwere y7ou I'dlet her come in; 'tisthe honestest face, and the tears in her soft eyes,vol. iir.R

242 GRIFFITH GAUNT.at your denying her, ' Oh dear, dear,' said she, ' Icannot tell my errand to any but her.' "" Well, well," said Mrs. Gaunt; " but what isher business ?"" If you ask me,Ithink her business is y7ourbusiness.Come, Dame, do see the poor thing;she is civil spoken, and she tells me she has comeall the way out of Lancashire o' purpose."Mrs.Gaunt recoiled, as if she had been stung." From Lancashire ?" said she, faintly." Ay, madam," said Mrs. Menteith, " and thatis along road;and a child upon her arm all theway, poor thing.""Her name?" saidMrs.Gaunt, sternly." Oh, she is not ashamed of it. She gave it medirectly.""What, has she the effronteryname:to take myMrs. Menteith stared at her with utter amazement." Your name ?" said she." 'Tis a simple

GRIFFITH GAUNT.243country body, and her name is Vint — MercyVint."Mrs. Gaunt was very much agitated, and saidshe felt quite unequal to see a stranger." Well,I'm sureIdon't know what to do," said"Mrs. Menteith. She says she will lie at yourdoor allnight,but she will see you. 'Tisthe face ofa friend.Shemayknow something. It seemshardto thrust her and her child out into the street,after their coming all the way from Lancashire."Mrs.Gaunt stood silent awhile,and her intelligencehad a severe combat with her deep repugnanceto be in the same room withGriffith Gaunt'smistress (so she considered her).But a certaincuriosity came to the aid of her good sense; andafter all she was abrave and haughty woman,andher natural courage began to rise.She thoughtto herself, " What, dare she come to meall thisway,and shallIshrink from her. "She turned to Mrs. Menteith with a bitterR 2

244 GRIFFITH GAUNT.smile, and she said, very slowly, and clenchingher white teeth, " Since you desire it, and sheinsists onit,Iwill receive Mistress Mercy Vint."Mrs. Menteith went off, and in about fiveminutes returned ushering in Mercy7 Vint in ahood and travelling-cloak.Mrs.Gaunt received her standing,and with avery formal curtsy7, to which Mercy made a quietobeisance, and both womenlooked one another alloverin a moment.Mrs. Menteith lingered, to know what on earththis was all about; but, as neither spoke a word,and their eyes were fixed on each other, shedivined that her absence was necessary,and soretired, slowly,looking very much amazed at bothof them.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 245CHAPTER XII." Be seated, mistress, if you please," said Mrs.Gaunt, with icy civility, " and let me knowwhatIowe this extraordinary visit."" I thank y7ou, Dame," said Mercy, " for indeedIam sore fatigued." She sat quietly down." WhyIhave come to y7ou? It was to serve you,and tokeepmy word with George Neville."" Will you be kind enough to explain ?" saidMrs.Gaunt,in a freezing tone, and with a look ofher great grey eye to match.Mercy felt chilled, and was too frank to disguiseit." Alas," said she, softly, " 'tis hard tobe received so, and me come all the way fromto

246 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Lancashire, with aheart like lead, to do my duty,God willing."The tears stood in her eyes, and her mellowvoice was sweet and patient.The gentle remonstrance was not quite withouteffect. Mrs. Gaunt coloured a little: she said,stiffly, " Excuse me ifIseem discourteous: butyouandIoughtnot to be in one room a moment.You do not see this,apparently.But at leastIhave aright to insist that such an interview shallbe very brief, and to the purpose.Oblige methen, by telling me inplain terms why you havecomehither."" Madam, to be your witness at the trial."" Youto be my witness?""Why not? IfIcan clear you? What,would you rather be condemned for murder, thanlet me show them you are innocent ? Alas, howyou hate me!"" Hate you, child ?" saidMrs. Gaunt, colouring

GRIFFITH GAUNT.247to her temples: "of courseIhate you.We areboth of us flesh and blood, and hate one another.And one of us is honest enough, and uncivilenough, to say so."" Speak for yourself, Dame," replied Mercy,quietly, " forIhate you not; andIthank Godfor it. Tohate is to be miserable.hated than to hate."Mrs. Gaunt looked at her.I'd liever be" Your words aregoodly and wise," said she; " your face is honest;and your eyes are like a very dove's.But, forall that, you hate me quietly, with all your heart.Humannatureis human nature."" 'Tis so. But grace is grace." Mercy was silentamoment, then resumed, " I'll not deny71did hateyou for a time, when firstIlearned the manIhad married had a wife, and you were she.Wethat be women are too unjust to each other, andtoo indulgent to a man.my hate.ButIhave worn outIwrestled in prayer, and the God of

248 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Love he did quench my most unreasonable hate.For 'twas the man betrayed me; you neverwronged me, norIyou. But you are right,madam; 'tis true that nature without grace isblack as pitch: the devil he was busy at my ear,and whispered ' me, If the fools in Cumberlandhang her, what fault o' thine ? Thou wilt be hislawful wife, and thy7 poor innocent child willbe achild of shame no more.' But,by God's grace,Idid defy him. AndIdo defy him." She roseswiftly from her chair, and her dove's eyesgleamed with celestial light. "Get thee behindme, Satan. Itell thee the hangman shall neverhave her innocent body, nor thou my soul."The movement was so unexpected, the wordsand thelook so simply noble, that Mrs. Gaunt rosetoo,and gazed upon her visitor with astonishmentand respect — yetstill with a dash of doubt.She thought to herself, " If this creatureis notsincere, what a mistress of deceit she must be!"

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 249But Mercy Vint soon returned to her quiet self.She sat down, and said, gravely, and, for thefirst time, alittle coldly, as one who had deservedwell, and been received ill — " Mistress Gaunt, youare accused of murdering your husband.'Tisfalse, for two days agoIsaw him alive."" What do you say?" cried Mrs. Gaunt, tremblingall over." Be brave, madam; you have borne greattrouble,do not give way under joy. He who haswronged us both — he who wedded you under hisown name of Griffith Gaunt, and me under thefalse name of Thomas Leicester,is no more deadthan we are;Isaw him twodays ago,and spoketo him, and persuaded him to come to Carlisletown and do you justice."Mrs. Gaunt fell"onher knees. He is alive:He is alive. Thank God! Oh, thank God! Heis alive: and God bless the tonguethat tells meso.God bless you eternally,Mercy Vint."

250 GRIFFITH GAUNT.The tears of joy streamed down her face, andthen Mercy's flowed too. She uttered a littlepathetic cry of joy. "Ah," she sobbed, "the bitof comfortIneeded so has come to my heavyheart. She has blessed me!"But she said this very softly, and Mrs. Gauntwas in a rapture,and did not hear her." Is it a dream? my husband alive ? and youthe one to come and tell me so?have been to you. Forgive me.otcome himself ?"How unjustIWhy does heMercy coloured at this question, and hesitated." Well,Dame," said she," for one thing, he hasbeen on the fuddle for the last two months.""On the fuddle?"" Ay;he owns he has never been sober a wholeday.And that takes the heart out of a man, aswell as the brains.And then he has got it intohis head that you will never forgive him; and

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 251that he shall be cast in prison if he shows hisface in Cumberland."" Why in Cumberland more than in Lancashire?" asked Mrs. Gaunt,biting herlip.Mercy blushed faintly: she replied with somedelicacy, but did not altogether mince the matter." He knowsIshall never punish-him for whathe has done to me."" Why not?Ibegin to think he has wrongedyou almost as much as he has me."" Worse, madam; worse. He has robbed meof my good name.You are stillhis lawful wife,and none canpoint the finger at you. But, lookat me:Iwas an honest girl; respected by all theparish. What has he made of me ? The manthat lay a dying in my house, audIsaved hislife, and so my heart did warm to him, heblasphemed God's altar, to deceive and betrayme; and hereIam, a poor forlorn creature,neither maid, wife, nor widow; with a child on

252 GRIFFITH GAUNT.my arms thatIdo nothing.but cry over; ay,mypoor innocent,Ileft thee down below, becauseIwas ashamed she should see thee; ah me.! ahme!" She lifted up her voice, and wept.Mrs. Gaunt looked at her wistfully; and, likeMercy before her, had a bitter struggle withhuman nature;a struggle so sharp that, in themidst of it, she burst out crying with strangeviolence: but, with that burst, her great soulconquered.She dartedout of the room, leaving Mercyastonished at her abrupt departure.Mercy was patiently drying her eyes, whenthe door opened, and judge her surprise when shesaw Mrs. Gaunt glide into the room with herlittle boy asleep in her arms, and an expressionupon her face more sublime than anythingMercyVint had ever yet seen on earth.She kissed thebabe softly, and, becoming infantine as well asangelic by this contact, sat herself down in a

GRIFFITH GAUNT.253moment on the floor with him,and held out herhand to Mercy." There," said she," come sitbeside us; and see howIhate him; no morethan you do — sweet innocent,"They looked him all over, discussed his everyfeature learnedly, kissed his limbs and extremitiesafter the manner of their sex, and comprehendingat last that to have been both of themwronged by one man was a bond of sympathy,not hate, the two wives of Griffith Gaunt laidhis child across their two laps, and wept over himtogether.Mercy Vint took herself to task." Iambut aselfish woman," said she, " to talk, or think ofanything but thatIcame here for."She thenproceeded to show Mrs. Gaunt by what means sheproposed to secure her acquittal, without gettingGriffith Gaunt into trouble.Mrs. Gaunt listened with keen and grateful

254 GRIFFITH GAUNT,attention,until she came to that part: then sheinterrupted her eagerly." Don't spare him for me. In your place I'dtrounce the villain finely.""Ay7," said Mercy,ButIam different,"and then forgive him.Ishall never forgive him;butIam apoor hand atpunishing and revenging.Ialways was. My name is Mercy, you know.To tell the truth,Iwas to have been calledPrudence, after my good aunt; but she said,nay:she had hved to hear Greed, and Selfishness,anda heap of faults, named Prudence: ' call thochild something that means what it does mean,and not after me,' quoth she. So with mohearing 'Mercy, Mercy,' called out after me somany years,Ido think the quality hath somehowgot under my skin; forIcan't abide to see folksmart,let alone to strike the blow. What, shallItake the place of God, and punish the evil-doers,because 'tis me they wrong?Nay,Dame,Iwill

GRIFFITH GAUNT.255never punish him, though he hath wronged mecruelly:allIshall do is to think veryillof him,and shun him, and tear his memory out of myheart,Youlook at me;do you thinkIcannot?You don't know me.Iam very resolute whenIsee clear.Of courseIloved him: loved himdearly. He was like a husband to me, and akind one.But the momentIknew how baselyhe had deceived us both, my heart began to turnagainst the man, and now 'tis ice to him. Heavenknows whatIam made of; for, believe me, I'dliever ten times be beside y-ou than beside him.i\Iy heart it lay7 like a lump of lead tillIheardy7our story, and foundIcould do you a good turn;yrou that he had wronged, as well as me.Ireadyour beautiful eyes;but nay, fear me not;I'mnot the woman to pine for the fruit that is myneighbour's. AllIask for on earth is a fewland words and looks from you. You arogentle andIam simple; but we are both one

256 GRIFFITH GAUNT.flesh and blood, and your lovely wet eyes doprove it this moment. Dame Gaunt — Kate—Ine'er w-as ten miles from home afore, andIamcome all this weary way to serve thee. Oh,give me the one thing that can do me good inthis world, the one thingIpine for — a little ofyour love."The words were scarce out of her lips whenMrs. Gaunt caught her impetuously round theneck with both hands, and laid her on that erringbut noble heart of hers, and kissed her eagerly.They kissed one another again and again,andwept over one another.And now Mrs. Gaunt, who did nothing byhalves, could not make enough of Mercy Vint.She ordered supper and ate with her, to make hereat,Mrs. Menteith offered Mercy a bed; butMrs. Gaunt said she must lie with her, she andher child."What," said she, "think you I'll let you out

of my sight?GRIFFITH GAUNT. 257Alas, who knows when you andIshall ever be together again?"" Iknow," said Mercy, very gravely.world — never."" In thisThey slept in one bed, and held each other bythe hand all night, and talked to one another, andin the morning knew each the other's story, andeach the other's mind and character, better thantheir oldest acquaintances knew either the one orthe other.VOL. III.s

258 GRIFFITH GAUNT.CHAPTER XIII.The trial began again: and the courtwas crowdedto suffocation. All eyes were bent on theprisoner. She rose, calm and quiet,and beggedleave to say a few words to the court,Mr. Whitworth objected to that. She hadconcluded her address yesterday, and called awitness.Prisoner. ButIhave not examined a witnessyet.The Judge. You come somewhat out of time,madam; but, if you will be brief, we will hearyou.Prisoner.Ithank you, my lord. It was only

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 259to withdraw an error. Tiie cry for help that washeard by the side of Hernshaw Mere,Isaid,yesterday7, that cry was uttered by ThomasLeicester. Well,IfindIwas mistaken; the cryfor help was uttered by my husband, by thatGriffith GauntIam accused of assassinating.This extraordinary admission caused a greatsensation in court. The judge looked grave andsad; and Serjeant Wiltshire, who came into courtjust then, whispered his junior, " She has putthe rope round her own neck. The jury wouldneverhave believed our witness."The Prisoner.Iwill only add that a personcame into the townlastnight, who knows a greatdeal more about this mysterious business thanIdo. Ipurpose, therefore, to alter the plan of niydefence; and, to save your time, my lord, whohave dealt so courteously with me,Ishall call buta single witness.Ere the astonishment caused by this suddens 2

260 GRIFFITH GAUNT.collapse of the defence was inany degree abated,she called " Mercy Vint,"There was the usual stir and struggle; andthen the calm self-possessed face and figure of acomely young woman confronted the court.Shewas sworn;and examined by the prisoner afterthis fashion." Where do you live ?"" At the' Packhorse,' near Allerton,in Lancashire."Mercy. Yes, madam, on the thirteenth of October.Prisoner. Do you know Mr. Griffith Gaunt ?Mercy. Madam,Ido.Prisoner. Washe at your placein October last ?On that day he left for Cumberland.Prisoner. Onfoot, or onhorseback ?Mercy. On horseback.Prisoner. With boots on,or shoes ?Mercy. He had a pair of new boots on.Prisoner. Do you know Thomas Leicester ?

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 261Mercy. A pedlar called at our house on theeleventh of October, and he said his name wasThomas Leicester.Prisoner. How was he shod ?Mercy. In hobnailed shoes.Prisoner. Which way wenthe on leaving you?Mercy. Madam, he went northwards;Iknownomore for certain.Prisoner. When did you see Mr.Gaunt last ?Mercy. Four days ago.The Judge. What is that?tour days ago?you saw him aliveMercy. Ay, my lord;the last Wednesday thatever was.At this the people burst out into aloudagitatedmurmur,and their heads went to and fro all thetime. In vain the crier cried and threatened.The noise rose and surged, and took its course. Itwent down gradually, as amazement gave way tocuriosity;and then there wasaremarkable silence;

262 GRIFFITH GAUNT.and then the silvery voice of the prisoner, and themellow tones of the witness,appeared to penetratethe very wallsof thebuilding, each syllable ofthosetwo beautiful speakers was heard so distinctly.Prisoner. Be so good as to tell the court whatpassed on Wednesday last between Griffith Gauntand you,relative to this charge of murder.Mercy.Ilet him know one George Neville hadcome from Cumberland in search of him, and hadtold me youlay in Carlisle gaol charged with hismurder.Ididurge him to ride at once to Carlisle,and show himself; but he refused. He made lightof the matter. ThenItold him, not so; the circumstanceslooked ugly,and your life wasinperil.Then he said, nay, 'twas in no peril, for, if youwere to be found guilty, then he would show himselfon the instant.ThenItold him he wasnotworthy the name of a man; and if he would notgo,Iwould. "Go you, by all means," said he," andI'll give you a writing that will clear her.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 263Jack Houseman will be there, that knows myhand; and so does the sheriff,and half the grandjury at the least."Prisoner. Have you that writing?Mercy. To be sureIhave.Prisoner. Be pleasedto readit.The Judge. Stay a minute.to be his handwriting?Here 'tis.Shall you prove itPrisoner. Ay, my lord, by as many as youplease.Tlie Judge. Then let that stand over for thepresent.Letme seeit.It washanded up to him;and he showed it tothe sheriff, who said he thought it was GriffithGaunt's writing.The paper was —then read out to the jury. Itran as follows:" Know all men, thatI,Griffith Gaunt,Esq.,ofBolton Hall andHernshaw Castle,in thecounty of

264 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Cumberland,am alive and well; and the matter,which has sopuzzled the good folk in Cumberland,befell as follows :—Ileft Hernshaw Castle in thedead of night uponthe fifteenthof October. Why,is no man's business but mine.Ifound the stablelocked;soIleft my horse, and wenton foot.Icrossed Hernshaw Mere by the bridge, and hadgot about a hundred yards, asIsuppose, on theway, whenIheard some one fall with a greatsplash into the mere, and soon after cry dolefullyfor help. I,that amno swimmer,raninstantly tothe north side to a clump of trees, where a boatused always to be kept. But the boat was notthere. ThenIcried lustily for help, and, as noone came,Ifired my pistol and cried murder!ForIhad heardmen will come sooner to that crythan to any other. But in truthIwasalmost outof my wits, that a fellow-creature should perishmiserably so near me. WhilstIran wildly to andfro, some came out of the Castle bearing torches.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.265By this timeIwas at the bridge;but saw nosignsof the drowning man; yet the night was clear.ThenIknew that his fate was sealed;and forreasons of my own notchoosingto be seen by thosewho were coming to his aid,Ihastened from theplace. My happiness being gone, and my consciencesmiting me sore, and not knowing whitherto turn,Itook to drink, and fell into bad ways,and livedlike a brute and notaman,for six weeksor more; so thatInever knew of the goodfortunethathad fallen on me when leastIdeserved it;Imean by7 oldMr.Gaunt of Coggleswade makingofmehis heir. But one clay at KendalIsaw MercyVint's advertisement; andIwent to her, andlearned that my wife lay in Carlisle gaol for mysupposed murder. ButIsay that she is innocent,and nowise toblame in thismatter; forIdeservedevery hard wrord she ever gave me; and as forkilling, she is a spirited woman with her tongue,buthath not the heart to kill a flv. -She is what

266 GRIFFITH GAUNT.she always was,the pearl of womankind; a virtuous,innocent,andnoble lady. Ihave lost thetreasure of her love, by my fault, not hers;but,at least,Ihave a right to defend her life andhonour. Whoever molests her after this, out ofpretended regard for me,is a liar,and a fool — andno friend of mine, but my enemy, andIhis tothe death." Griffith Gaunt."It was a day of surprises. This tribute fromthe murdered man to his assassin was one ofthem. People looked in one another's facesopen-eyed.The prisoner looked in the judge's, and actedon what she"saw there. That is my defence,"said she, quietly; and sat down.If a show of hands had been called at thatmoment, she wotdd have been acquitted byacclamation.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.267But Mr. Whitworth was a zealous yroungbarrister, burning for distinction. He stuck tohis case, and cross-examined Mercy Vint withseverity;indeed, with asperity.Whitivorth. What are you to receive for thiievidence ?Mercy. Anan.Whitworth. Oh, y7ou know whatImean. Arey-ou not to be paid for telling us this romance ?Mercy. Nay, sir,Iask nought for telling of thetruth.Wliitworth. You werein the prisoner's companyyesterday.Mercy. Yes,sir,Idid visit her in thegaol lastnight.Wliitworth. And there concerted this ingeniousdefence.Mercy. Well, sir, for that matter,Itold herthat her man was alive,andIdid offer to-be herwitness.

268 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Whitworth. For nought.Mercy. For no money or reward, if 'tis that youmean. Why, 'tis a joy beyond money, to clear aninnocent body, and save her life; and that satisfactionis mine this clay.Whitworth (sarcastically). These are very finesentiments for aperson in y7ourcondition. Confessthat Mrs. Gaunt primed you with all that.Mercy. Nay, sir,Ileft home in that mind;elseIhad not come at all. Bethink you; 'tis along journey for one in my way of life;and thisclear child on my arm all the way.Mrs. Gaunt sat boiling with indignation. ButMercy's good and meekness parried theattack that time. Mr. Whitworth changed hisline.Wliitworth. You ask the jury to believe thatGriffith Gaunt, Esquire, a gentleman, and a manof spirit and honour,is alive,yet skulks and sendsyou hither, when by showinghis face in this court

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 269he could clear his wife without a single wordspoken?Mercy. Yes, sir,Ido hope to be believed; forIspeak thenaked truth. But, with due respect toyou,Mr. Gaunt did not send me hither againstmy will.Icould not bide in Lancashire and letan innocent womanbe murdered in Cumberland.Wliitivorth. Murdered,quotha.That is a goodjest. I'd have you to know we punish murdershere, not do them.Mercy.Iam glad tohear that,sir, on the lady'saccount,Whitworth. Come,come.Youpretend you discoveredthis Griffith Gaunt alive,by means of anadvertisement.If so,produce the advertisement.Mercy Vint coloured, and cast a swift uneasyglance at Mrs. Gaunt.Rapid as it was,the keen eye of the counselcaught it." Nay, do not look to the culprit for orders,"

270 GRIFFITH GAUNT." Produce it,orconfess the truth. Come,said he.you never advertised for him."" Sir,Idid advertise for him."" Then produce the advertisement."" Sir, Iwill not," said Mercy, calmly7." ThenI shall movethe court to commit you."" For what offence,if you please?"."For perjury,and contempt of court."" I am guiltless of either, God knows. ButIwill not show the advertisement."The Judge. This is veryextraordinary. Perhapsyou haveit not about you."Mercy. My lord, the truth isIhave it in mybosom.But,ifIshow it,it will not make thismatter one whit clearer,and'twillopenthe woundsof two poor women. 'Tisnot for myself. But, ohmy lord, look at her;hath she not gone throughgrief enow?"The appeal was madewith a quiet touchingearnestness, that affected every hearer.But the

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 271judgehad a duty"to perform. Witness," said he," you mean well ;but indeed youdo the prisoneran injury by7 withholding this i)aper. Be goodenough to produce itat once."ThePrisoner (with a deep sigh). Obeymy lord.Mercy (with a deep sigh). There, sir,may theLord forgive you the useless mischief you aredoing.Whitworth.Iam doingmy duty,young woman.And yours is to tell the whole truth, and not apart only.Mercy (acquiescing). That is true, sir,Whitworth. Why, what is this? 'Tis notMr. Gaunt you advertise for in these papers. 'TisThomas Leicester.The Judge. What is that? Idon't understand.Whitworth. NorIneither.The Judge. Let me see thepapers. 'TisThomasLeicester sure enough.Whitworth. And you mean to swear thatGriffith

272 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Gaunt answered an advertisement inviting ThomasLeicester ?Mercy.Ido.he wentby inour part.Whitworth. Wbat ? what ?Thomas Leicester was the nameYou are jesting.Mercy. Is this a place or a time for jesting?say he called himself Thomas Leicester.Here the business was interrupted againby amultitudinous murmur of excited voices.Everybodywas whisperingastonishment tohis neighbour.And the whisperof a great crowd has the effect ofa loudmurmur.Whitworth. Oh, he called himself ThomasLeicester,did he ?is Griffith Gaunt ?Then whatmakes you say heMercy. Well, sir, the pedlar, whose real namewas Thomas Leicester, came to our house one day,and saw his picture, andknew it;and said somethingto a neighbour that raised my suspicions.When he came home,Itook this shirt out of aI

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 273drawer; 'twas the shirt he wore when he firstcame to us. 'Tis marked " G. G." (The shirtwas examined). Said I, " For God's sake speakthe truth: what does G.G. stand for?" Then hetold me his realname was Griffith Gaunt, and he"had a wife in Cumberland. Go back to her,"said I, " and ask her to forgive you." Then herode north, andInever saw him again till lastAVednesday.Whitworth (satirically). You seem to have beenmighty intimate with this Thomas Leicester, whomyou now callGriffith Gaunt. MayIask what was,or is, the nature of your connection with him ?Mercy wassilent,Whitworth.Imust press for a reply, that wemay know what value to attach to your mostextraordinary evidence. Were you his wife — orhis mistress ?Mercy. IndeedIhardly know; but not hismistress, orIshould notbe here.VOL. III.T

274 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Whitivorth. You don't know whether you weremarried tothe manor not?—Mercy.Ido not say so. ButShe hesitated, and cast a piteous look atMrs. Gaunt, who sat boiling with indignation.At this look, the prisoner, who had long containedherself with difficulty, rose, with scarletcheeks and flashing eyres, in defence of herwitness,and flung her prudence to the wind.""Fie, sir," she cried. The woman you insultis as pure as your own mother, or mine. Shedeserves the pity, the respect, the veneration ofall goodmen. Know, my lord, that my miserablehusband deceived and married her under the falsename he had taken; she has the marriage certificatein her bosom. Pray make her show itwhether she willor not. My lord, this MercyVintis more an angel than a woman.Iam her rivalafter a manner; yet out of the goodness andgreatness of her noble heart, she came all that

GRIFFITH GAUNT.275way to save me from an unjust death.such a woman to be insidted ?And isIblush for thehired advocate who cannot see his superior in anincorruptible witness, a creature all truth, piety,purity7, unselfishness,and goodness. Yes, sir, youbegan by insinuating that she was as venal asyourself; for you are one that can be bought bythe first comer;and nowyou would cast a slur onher chastity,For shame! for shame! This isone of those rare women that adorn our whole sex,and embellish human nature: and, so long as youhave the privilege of exchanging words with her,Ishall stand here on the watch, to see that youtreat her with due respect:ay, sir, with reverence;forIhavemeasured yrou both, and she isas much your superior as she is mine."This amazing burst was delivered with suchprodigious fire and rapidity, that nobody was selfpossessedenough to stopit in time. It was likea furious gust of words sweeping over the court.t 2

276 GRIFFITH GAUNT.Mr. Whitworth, pale with anger, merely said,"Madam, the good taste of these remarksIleavethe court to decide upon.But y7ou cannot beallowed to give evidence in your own defence."" No,but in hersIwill," saidMrs. Gaunt;" nopower shall hinder me."The Judge (coldly). Had you not better go oncross-examining the witness ?Whitworth. Let me see yourmarriage certificate,if you have one ?It was handed to him." Well, now how do you know that this ThomasLeicester was Griffith Gaunt ?"The Judge. W7hy, she has told you he confessedit to her.Mercy. Yes, my lord; and, besides, he wroteme two letters signed Thomas Leicester.Herethey are, andIdesire they may be compared withthe paper he wrote last Wednesday, and signedGriffith Gaunt.And more than that, whilst we

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 277lived together as man and wife, one Hamilton, atravelling painter, took our portraits,hisand mine.Ihave broughthis with we. Let his friends andneighbours look on this portrait, and say whoselikeness it is. WhatIsay and swear is, that onWednesday lastIsaw andspoke with that ThomasLeicester, or Griffith Gaunt, whose likenessInowshow you.With that she lifted the portrait up,and showedit toall the court.Instantly there wasa roar of recognition.It was one of those hard daubs that are neverthelessso monstrously like the originals.The Judge (to Mr. Whitworth). Young gentleman,we areall greatly obliged to you. Youhavemade theprisoner's case. There wasbut one weakpoint in it;Imean the prolonged absence ofGriffith Gaunt. Youhave now accounted for that.Youhave forced a very truthful witness to deposethat this Gauntis himself a criminal,andis hiding

278 GRIFFITH GAUNT.from fear of the law7. The case for theCrown is amere tissue of conjectures, on which no jury couldsafely convict,evenif there was no defence at all.Under other circumstancesImight decline to receiveevidence at second hand that Griffith Gauntis alive; but here such evidence is sufficient, foritlies on the Crown to prove the man dead; butyou have only proved that he was alive on thefifteenth of October, and that, since then,somebodyis dead with shoes on. This somebody appears onthe balance of proof to be ThomasLeicester, thepedlar; and he has never been heard of since,andGriffith Gaunt has. ThenIsay you cannot carrythe case farther. You have not a legto stand on.What say you,brother Wiltshire ?Wiltshire. My lord,Ithink there is no caseagainst the prisoner, and am thankful to yourlordship for relieving me of a very unpleasanttask.The question of guilty or not guilty was then

GRIFFITH GAUNT.279put as a matter of form to the jury, who instantlybrought the prisonerin not guilty.The Judge. Catherine Gaunt, you leave thiscourt without a stain,and with our sincere respectand sympathy7.Imuch regret the fear and painyou have been put to: you have been terriblypunishedfor ahasty word. Profit nowby this bitterlesson; andmay heavenenable you to add a wellgovernedspirit to your many virtues and graces.He half rose from his seat, and bowed courteouslyto her. She curtsied reverently, andretired.He then said a few words to Mercy Vint." Young woman,Ihave no words to praise youas you deserve.Youhave shown us the beautyofthe female character, and,let me add, the beautyof the Christian religion.Youhave come a longwayto clear the innocent.Ihope you will notstop there;but also punish the guilty person,onw-hom wehave wasted so muchpity."

280 GRIFFITH GAUNT."Me, my lord," said Mercy7,"I would notharm a hair of his head for as many guineas asthere be hairs in mine."" Child," said my lord, " thou art too good forthis world:but go thy ways;and God bless thee."Thus ' abruptly ended a trial that, at first, hadlooked so formidable for the accused.The Judge now retired for some refreshment,and while he was gone,-Sir George Neville clashedup to the TownHall, four inhand,and rushed inby the magistrate's door, with a pedlar's pack,which he had discovered in the mere, a few yardsfrom the spot where the mutilated body was found.He learned the prisoner was already acquitted.He left the pack with the sheriff, and begged himto show it to the judge; and went in search ofMrs. Gaunt.He found her in the gaoler's house.She andMercy Vint were seated hand in hand. Hestarted at first sight of the latter.There was a

GRIFFITH GAUNT.281universal shaking of hands,and glistening of eyes.And, when this was over, Mrs. Gaunt turned tohim, and said, piteously, " She will go backLancashire to-morrow; nothingIcan say willturn her."" No, Dame," said Mercy, quietly7," Cumberlandis noplace for me. My work is done here. Ourpaths in this world do lie apart.toGeorge Neville,persuade her to go home at once, and not troubleabout me."" Indeed,madam," said Sir George, " she speakswisely: she always does.My carriage is at thedoor, and the people waiting by thousands in thestreet to welcome your deliverance."Mrs. Gaunt drew herself up with fiery andbitter disdain."Are they so," said she, grimly. "Then I'llbaulk them. I'll steal away in the dead of night.No, miserable populace, that howls and hisseswith the strong against the weak, you shall have

282 GRIFFITH GAUNT.no part inmy triumph; 'tis sacred to my friends.You honoured me with yourhootings; you shallnot disgraceme with your acclamations.HereIstay till Mercy Vint, my guardian angel, leavesme for ever."She then requested Sir George to order hishorses back to the inn,and the coachman was tohold himself in readiness to start when the wholetown should be asleep.Meantime a courier wasdespatched toHernshaw7Castle, to prepare for Mrs. Gaunt'sreception.Mrs. Menteith made abed up for Mercy Vint,and, at midnight, when the coast was clear, camethe parting.It was a sad one.Even Mercy7, who hadgreat self-command,couldnot then restrain her tears.To apply the sweet and touching words' ofScripture, " They sorrowed most of all for this,that they should see each other's face no more."

GRIFFITH GAUNT.283Sir George accompanied Mrs. Gaunt to Hernshaw.She drew back into her corner of the carriage,and was very silent and distraite.After one or two attempts at conversation,hejudgedit wisest and even most polite to respecther mood.At last she burst out, "I cannot bear it, 1cannot bearit!"" Why, what is amiss ?" inquired Sir George." What is amiss ? Why, 'tis all amiss. 'Tis soheartless,so ungrateful, to let that poor angel gohome to Lancashire all alone, now she has servedmy turn.Sir George, do not thinkIundervaluey-our company,but if youwouldbut takeher homeinstead of taking me! Poor thing, she is brave;but, when the excitement of her good action isover,and she goes back the weary road all alone,what desolation it will be.her.My heart bleeds forIknowIam an unconscionable woman, to

284 GRIFFITH GAUNT.ask such a thing; but then you are a truechevalier; you always were; and you saw hermerit directly; oh, do pray leave me to slipunnoticed into Hernshaw Castle, and do youaccompany my benefactress to her humble home.Will you, dear Sir George?load off my heart,"'Twould be such aTo this appeal, uttered with trembling lip andmoist ey7es,Sir George replied in character.Hedeclined to desert Mrs. Gaunt until he had seenher safe home;but that clone, he would ride backto Carlisle,and escort Mercy home.Mrs. Gaunt sighed, and said she was abusinghis friendship, and should kill him with fatigue,"and he was a good creature. If anythingcould make me easy, this would," said she:" you know how to talk to a woman, and comforther.IwishIwas a man: I'd cure her ofGriffith before we reached the ' Packhorse.'And, nowIthink ofit, you are a very happy man

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 285to travel eighty miles with an angel, a dove-eyedangel."" Iam a happy man to have an opportunity ofcomplying with your desires, madam," wasdemure reply.the"'Tis not often you do me thehonour to lay your orders on me."After this,nothing of any moment passeduntilthey reached Hernshaw Castle;and then, as theydrove up to the door, and saw the hall blazingwith lights, Mrs.Gaunt laid her hand softly onSir George, and whispered, " You were right.thank you for not leavingme."The servants were all in the hall, to receivetheir mistress;and amongst them were those whohad given honest but unfavourable testimony atthe trial,being called by the Crown.These hadconsulted together, and,after many pros and cons,had decided that they had better not follow theirnatural impulse, and hide from her face, since thatmight be a fresh offence.IAccordingly, these

286 GRIFFITH GAUNT.witnesses, dressed in their best, stood with thothers in the hall, and made their obeisances,quaking inwardly.Mrs. Gaunt entered the hall leaning on SirGeorge's arm. She scarcely bestowed a look uponthe late witnesses for the Crown, but made themone sweeping curtsyinreturn,and passed on;onlySir George felt her taper fingers just nip his arm.She made him partake of some supper, andthen this chevalier des dames rode home, snatcheda few hours' sleep, put on the yeoman's suit inwhich he had first visited the " Packhorse," andarriving at Carlisle, engaged the whole inside ofthe coach;for his orders were to console, and hedid not see his way clear to do that with two orthree strangers listening to every word.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 287CHAPTER XIV.A great change was observable in Mrs. Gauntafter this fiery and chastening ordeal. In a shorttime shehad been taught many lessons. She hadlearned that the law will not allow even a womanto say"anything and everything with impunity.She had been in a court of justice, and seen howgravely, soberly, and fairly, an accusation issifted there;and, if false, annihilated; which,elsewhere, it never is. Member of a sexcould neverhave invented a court of justice, shehad found something to revere and bless in thatother sex, to which her erring husband belonged.Finally, she had encountered, in Mercy Vint, awoman, whom she recognised at once as her moralsuperior. The contact of that pure and well-

288 GRIFFITH GAUNT.governed spirit told wonderfully upon her; shebegan to watch her tongue,and to bridle her highspirit. She became slower to give offence, andslower to take it. She took herself to task, andmade some little excuses even for Griffith. Shewas resolved to retire from the world altogether;but, meantime, she bowed her head to thelessonsof adversity. Her features, always lovely, butsomewhat too haughty, were now softened andembellished beyond description, by a mingledexpressionof grief, humility, and resignation.She never mentioned her husband; but it isnot to be supposed she never thought of him.She waited the course of events in dignified andpatient silence.As for Griffith Gaunt, he was in the hands oftwo lawyers, Atkins and Houseman. He waited"on the first, and made a friend of him. I am atyour service," said " he; but not ifIam to beindicted for bigamy, and burned in the hand."

GRIFFITH GAUNT.289"These fears are idle," said Atkins."Mercy-Vint declared in open court she will not proceedagainst you."" Ay,but there's my wife," She will keep quiet;Ihave Houseman'sword for it,"" Ay, but there's the Attorney-General."" Oh, he will not move, unless he is driven.We must use alittle influence.Mr. Houseman isof my mind, andhe has the ear of the county."To be brief, it wasrepresented in high quartersthat to indict Mr. Gaunt would only open Mrs.Gaunt's wounds afresh,and do no good; and soHouseman found means to muzzle the Attorney-General.Just three weeks after the trial,Griffith Gaunt,Esq., reappeared publicly. The place of hisreappearance was Coggleswade.He came andset about finishing his new mansion with feverishrapidity.VOL. III.He engagedan armyof carpenters andu

290 GRIFFITH GAUNT.painters, and spent thousands of pounds on thedecorating and furnishing of the mansion, andlaying out the grounds.This was duly reported to Mrs. Gaunt, whosaid — not a word.But at last one day came a letter to Mrs.Gaunt,inGriffith's well-known handwriting.With all her acquired self-possession,her handtrembled as she broke open the seal.—It contained but these words:" Madam,— Ido not ask you toforgive me ; for,if you had done whatIhave,Icould never forgiveyou.But, for the sake of Rose, and to stop theirtongues,Ido hope you wdl do me the honour tolive under thismy roof.Idare not face HernshawCastle.Yourown apartments here are now readyforyou. Theplace islarge. Uponmy honourIwillnot trouble you; but show myself always, asnow," Your penitent and very humble servant," Griffith Gaunt."

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 291The messenger was to wait for her reply.This letter disturbed Mrs. Gaunt's sorrowfultranquillity at once. She was much agitated, andso undecided,that she sent the messenger away.and told him to callnext day.Then she sent off to Father Francis to beg hisadvice.But her courier returned,late at night, to sayFather Francis was awayfrom home.Then she took Rose, and said to her, " My darling,papa wants us to go to his new house,andleave dear old Hernshaw;Iknow not what to sayabout that. "What do you say?"" Tell him to come to us," said Rose, dictatorially.Only," (lowering her little voice very""suddenly), if he is naughty and won't, whythen we had better go to him. For he amusesme.""As you please," saidMrs. Gaunt; and sentherhusband this reply: — u 2

292 griffith gaunt." Sir,— Rose andI are agreed to defer to yourjudgment and obey your wishes.Be pleased tolet me know what day you will require us;andImust trouble you to send a carnage."lam, sir," Your faithful Wife, and humble Servant," Catherine GauntJAt the appointed day, a carriage and four camewheeling up to the door. The vehicle was gorgeouslyemblazoned, and the servants in richliveries; all which finery glittering in the sun,and the glossy coats of the horses, did mightilypleaseMistress Rose. She stoodon the stone steps,and clapped her hands with delight. Her motherjust sighed, and said, " Ay, 'tis in pomp and showwe must seek our happiness now."She leaned back in the carriage, and closed hereyes, yet not so close but now and then a tearwould steal out, as she thought of the past.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.293They drove up under an avenue to a noblemansionj and landed at the foot of some marblesteps, low and narrow, but of vast breadth.As they mounted these, a hall door, throughwhich the carriage could have passed, was flungopen,and discovered the servants all drawn up todo honour to their mistress.She entered the hall,leading Roseby the hand,the servants bowed and curtsied down to theground.She received this homage with dignifiedcourtesy, and her eye stole round to see ifthe master of the househer.was coming to receiveThe library door was opened hastily, and outcame to meet her— Father Francis." Welcome, madam, a thousand times welcometo your new home," said he, in a stentorian voice,"witha double infusion of geniality. Iclaim thehonour of showing you your part of the house,

294 GRIFFITH GAUNT.though 'tis all yours for that matter."And heled the way.Now this cheerful stentorian voice was just alittle shaky for once, and his eyes were moist.Mrs. Gaunt noticed,but said nothing before thepeople. She smiled graciously, and accompaniedhim.He took her to her apartments. They7 consistedof a salle-a-manger, three delightful bedrooms,a boudoir, and amagnificent drawing-room,fifty feet long, with two fire-places, and a baywindowthirty feet wide, filled with the choicestflowers.An exclamation of delight escaped Mrs. Gaunt,Then she said, " One would thinkIwas a queen."Then she sighed, " Ah," said she, " 'tis a fine thingto be rich." Then, despondently, "Tell himIthink it very beautiful.""Nay, madam,Ihope you will tell him soyourself."

GRIFFITH GAUNT.295Mrs. Gaunt made no reply to that; she added:" Andit was kind of him to have you here thefirst day:Ido not feel so lonely asIshould withoutyou."She took Griffith at his word, and lived withRose inher ownapartments.For some time Griffith used to slip away wheneverhesaw her coming,him.One day she caught him at it,and beckonedHe came to her." You need not run away from me," said she:" Idid not come into your house to quarrel withyou. Let us be friends."And she gave him herhand sweetly enough, but oh so coldly." Ihope for nothing more," said Griffith." Ifyou ever have a wish, give me the pleasure ofgratifyingit — that is all."" I wish to retire to a convent," said she,quietly.

296 GRIFFITH GAUNT." And desert your daughter ?"" Iwould leave her behind, to remind you ofdays gone by."By degreesthey saw a little more of oneanother; they even dined together,now and then.But it brought them no nearer.There was noanger, with its loving reaction. They werefriendly enough,but an icy barrier stood betweenthem.One person set himself quietly to sap thisbarrier. Father Francis was often at the Castle,and played the peace-maker very adroitly.The line he took might be called the innocentJesuitical.He saw that it would be useless toexhort these two persons to ignore the terriblethings that happened, and to make it up asif itwas only a squabble.What he did was to repeatto the husband every gracious word the wife letfall, and vice versa, and to suppress all either saidthat might tend to estrange them.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 297Inshort, he acted the part of Mr. Harmony inthe play, and actedit to perfection.Gutta cavatlapidem.Thoughno perceptible effect followed his efforts,yet there is no doubt that he got rid of some ofthe bitterness.But the coldness remained.One day he was sent for all in a hurry by-Griffith.Hefound him lookinggloomy and agitated.The cause came out directly.Griffith hadobserved,at last,what all the females in the househad seen twomonths ago, that Mrs. Gaunt was inthe family-way.!He now communicated this to Father Francis,with a voice of agony, andlooks to match." All the better, my son,"said the genial priest;" 'twill be another tie between you. Ihope itwill be a fine boy to inherit your estates."Then,observing a certain hideous expression distortingGriffith's face, he fixed his eyes full on him, and

298 GRIFFITH GAUNT,said, sternly, "Are you not cured yet of thatmadness of yours?"" No, no, no," said Griffith, deprecatingly;" but why did she not tell me?"" Youhad better ask her."" NotI. She will remind meI am nothing toher now.hear it from her lips."And, though 'tis so, yetIwould notInspiteof this wiseresolution,the torturehe wasin drovehim to remonstratewith her onhersdence.She blushed —high, and excused herself asfollows:" Ishould have told you as soon asIknew itmyself. But you were not with me. Iwas allby my7self — in Carlisle gaol."This reply, uttered with hypocritical meekness,went through Griffith like a knife. He turnedwhite, and gasped for breath, but said nothing.He left her, withadeep groan,and never venturedto mention the matter again.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 299Allhe did in that direction was to redouble hisattentions and solicitude for her health.The relation between these two wasnow moreanomalous than ever.Even Father Francis, who had seen strangethings in families,used to watch Mrs. Gaunt risefrom table and walk heavily to the door, and herhusband dart to it and openit obsequiously, and—receive only a very formal reverencein returnand wonder how all this wasto end.However, under this icy surface, a change wasgradually going on;and oneafternoon,tohisgreatsurprise,Mrs. Gaunt's maid came to ask Griffithifhe would come toMrs. Gaunt's apartment.He found her seatedinher bay window, amongher flowers.She seemed another womanall of asudden, and smiled onhim her excpiisite smile ofdays gone by." Come, sit beside me," said she," in thisbeautiful window that you have givenme."

300 GRIFFITH GAUNT."Sit beside you, Kate," said Griffith; "nay,let me kneelat your knees;that is my place."" As you will," said she, softly; and continued,in the same tone, " Now listen to me;you andIare two fools; wehave been very happy togetherin days gone by; and we should both of us liketo try again; but we neither of us know howtobegin.You are afraid to tell me you love meandIam ashamed to own to you or anybody elsethatIlove you,in spite ofitall — Ido, though."" You love me! a wretch like me,Kate ? 'Tisimpossible.Icannot be so happy!"" Child," said Mrs.Gaunt," love is not reason;love is not common sense.'Tis a passion; likeyour jealousy, poor fool.Ilove yrou, as amotherloves her child, all the more for all you havemade me suffer.Imight not say as much ifIthought we should be long together.But somethingtells meIshall die this time :Inever feltso before.Iwant you to bury me at Hernshaw.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 301After all,Ispent more happy years there thanmost wives everknow.Isee youare verysorry forwhat yrou have done. How couldIdie andleavetheeindoubt of my7 forgiveness,andmylove ? Kissme, poor jealous fool;forIdo forgive thee, andlove thee with all my sorrowfulheart." Andevenwith the words she bowed herself and sankquietiyinto his arms, and he kissed her and cried bitterlyoverher:bitterly. But she " wascomparatively calm.For she said to herself, the end is at hand."Griffith, instead of pooh-poohinghis wife's forebodings,set himself to baffle them.He used his wealth freely; and, besides thecounty doctor, had two very eminent practitionersfrom London, one of whom was a grey-headedman, the other singularly young for the fame hehad obtained.But then he was a genuine enthusiastinhis art.

302 GRIFFITH GAUNT.CHAPTER XV.Griffith, white as a ghost, and unable to shakeoff the forebodings Catherine had communicatedto him,walked incessantlyup and down the room;and at his earnestrequest,one or otherof the fourdoctors in attendance was constantly coming tohim with information.The case proceeded favourably, and to Griffith'ssurprise and joy, a healthy boy was bom abouttwo o'clock in the morning. The mother wasreported rather feverish, but nothing to causealarm.Griffith threw himself on two chairs andfell fastasleep.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 303Towards morning he found himself shaken, andthere wasAshley,the youngdoctor, standingbesidehim with a very grave face.Griffith started up,and cried, " Vvnatis wrong, in God's name ?"" Iam sorry to say there has been a suddenhæmorrhage, and the patient ismuch exhausted."" She is dying, she is dying!" cried Griffith, inanguish." Not dying. But she will infallibly sink unlesssome unusual circumstance occur to sustain vitality."Griffith laid hold of him."Oh, sir, take my7whole fortune,but saveher!save her!save her !""Mr. Gaunt," said the youngdoctor, "be calm,or you will make matters worse.There is onechance to save her;but my professional brethrenare prejudiced against it.However, they haveconsented,at my earnest request, to refer my proposalto y-ou.She is sinking for want of blood:ifyou consent to my opening a vein and transfusing

304 GRIFFITH GAUNT.healthy blood from a living subject into hers,Iwill undertake the operation.You had bettercome and see her;you will bemore able to judge."" Let me lean on you," said Griffith. And thestrong wrestler went tottering up the stairs. Therethey showed him poor Kate, white as the bedclothes,breathing hard, and with a pulse thathardly moved.Griffith looked ather horror-struck." Deathhas gothold ofmy darling,"he screamed." Snatch her away!for God's sake,snatch her fromhim!"The young doctorwhipped off his coat, andbared his arm." There," he cried," Mr. Gaunt consents. Now,Corrie,be quick with the lancet, and hold thistube asItell you; warmit first in that water."Here came an interruption.Griffith Gauntgripedthe youngdoctor's arm, and withanagonizedand ugly expression of countenance cried out,

GRIFFITH GAUNT.305" What ? your blood! What right have you tolose blood for her ?"" The right of a man who loves his art betterthan his blood," cried Ashley, with enthusiasm.Griffith tore off his coat and waistcoat, and"bared his arm to the elbow. Take every dropIhave.mine."No man's blood shall enter her veins butAnd the creature seemed to swell todouble his size,as withflushed cheek and sparklingeyeshe held out abare arm corded like a blacksmith's,and white as a duchess's.The young doctor eyed the magnificent limb amoment with rapture: then fixed his apparatusand performed an operation which then, as*now,was impossible in theory; onlyhe didit. He sentsome of Griffith Gaunt'sbright red blood smokinghot into Kate Gaunt's veins.This clone, he watched his patient closely, andadministered stimulants from time to time.She hung between life and death for hours. ButVOL. III.x

306 GRIFFITH GAUNT.at noon next day she spoke, and seeing Griffithsitting beside her, pale with anxiety and loss ofblood, she said, " My dear, do not thou fret. Idied last night. Iknew Ishould. But theygave me another life;and nowIshall live to ahundred."They7 showed her the little boy; and, at sightof lnm, the whole woman made up her mind tolive.And live she did. And, what is very remarkable,her convalescence was more rapid than onany former occasion.It was from a talkative nurse she first learnedthat Griffith had given his blood for her. Shesaid"nothing at the time,but lay with an angelic,happy smfle, thinking of it.The first time she saw him after that, she laidher hand on his arm, and looking Heaven itselfinto his eyes,she said, " My life is very7 dear tome now. 'Tis a present from thee."

GRIFFITH GAUNT.307She wanted a good excuse for loving himas frankly as before, and now he had given herone. She used to throw it in his teeth in theprettiest way7. Whenever she confessed a fault,"she was sure to turn slily round and say, butwdiat could oneexpect of me ?Ihave his blood inmy7 veins."But once she told Father Francis,quite seriously7,that she had never been quite the samewoman since she lived by Griffith's blood; shewas turned jealous; and moreover it had givenhim a fascinating power over her; and she couldtell blindfold when he was in the room. Whichlast fact indeed she once proved by actual experiment.But all thisIleave to such as study theoccult sciences in this profound ageof ours.Starting with this advantage, Time, the greatcurer, gradually healed a wound that looked iucurable.Mrs. Gaunt became abetter wife than she hadx 2

308 GRIFFITH GAUNT.ever been before. She studied her husband, andfound he was not hard to please. She made hishome bright and genial; and so he neverwent abroad for the sunshine he could have athome.And he studied her;he added a chapel to thehouse,and easily persuaded Francis to become thechaplain. Thus they had a peacemaker, and afriend,in the house,and a man severe in morals,but candid inreligion, and an inexhaustible companionto them and their children.And so, after that terrible storm, this pairpursued the even tenour of a peaceful united life,till the olive branches rising around them, andthe happy years gliding on, almost obliteratedthat one dark passage,and made it seem a merefantastical,incredible, dream.Mercy Vint and her child went home in thecoach. It was empty at starting, and, as

GRIFFITH GAUNT.309Mrs.Gaunt had foretold, a great sense of desolation fell uponher.She leaned back, and the patient tears coursedsteadily down her comely cheeks.At the first stage a passenger got down fromthe outside,and entered the coach." What, George Neville!" said Mercy." The same," saidhe.She expressed her surprise that he should begoing her way." 'Tis strange," said he;" but to me mostagreeable."'"' And to me too, for that matter," said she.Sir George observed her eyes were red, and, todivert her mind and keepup her spirits, launchedinto a flow of small "talk.In the midst of it,Mercy leaned back in thecoach, and began to cry bitterly.that mode of consolation.So much forUpon this he faced the situation,and begged

310 GRIFFITH GAUNT,her not to grieve. " He praised the good actionshe had done, and told her how everybodyadmired her for it, especially himself.At that she gave him her hand in silence, andturned away her pretty head. He carried herhand respectfully to his lips;and his manly heartbegan to yearn over this suffering virtue; sograve, so dignified, someek. He was no longer ayoung man; he began to talk to her like a friend.This tone, and the soft sympathetic voice inwhich a gentleman speaks to a womanin trouble,unlocked her heart, and for the first time in herlife she wasled totalk aboutherself.She opened her heart to him. She told himshe was not the woman to pine for any man. Heryouth, her health, and love of occupation wouldcarryher through. What shemourned was the lossof esteem,and theblotuponher child. At that shedrew the baby with inexpressible tenderness, andyet with ahalf defiant air, closer to her bosom.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.311Sir George assured her she would lose the"esteem of none but fools. As for me," said he," Ialways respected you, but now7Irevere you.You are amartyr, aud an angel."" George," said Mercy, gravely," be you myfriend, not my enemy."" Why, madam," saidhe, " sure you can't thinkme such a wretch."" 1mean, our flatterers are our enemies."Sir George took the hint, given, as it was,verygravely and decidedly; and henceforth showedher his respect by his acts;he paid her as muchattention as if she had been a princess.Hehanded her out,and handed her in;and coaxedher to eat here,and to drink there; and at theinn where the passengers slept for the night, heshowed his long purse, and secured her superiorcomforts.Console her he could not; but hebroke the sense of utter desolation andlonelinesswith which she started from Carlisle.She told

312 GRIFFITH GAUNT.him so in the inn, and descanted on the goodnessof God, who had sent her a friend in that bitterhorn-." Youhave been very kind to me, George,"said"she. Now Heaven bless youfor it,and give youmanyhappy days, and well spent."This,from one who never said a word she didnot mean, sank deep into Sir George's [heart,and he went to sleep thinking of her, and askinghimself, was there nothing he could do forher.Next morning Sir George handed Mercy andher babe into the coach; and the villain tried anexperiment to see what value she set on him.Hedid not get in,so Mercy thought she had seen thelast of him." Farewell, good,kind George," said she; " alas,there's nought but meeting and parting in thisweary7world."The tears stood in her sweet eyes, and she

GRIFFITH GAUNT.313thanked him,not with words only, but with thesoft pressure of her womanly hand.He slipped up behind the coach, and wasashamed of himself,and his heart warmed to hermoreand more.As soon as the coach stopped, my lord openedthe door for Mercy to alight.very red,he saw that.Her eyres w7ereShe started,and beamedwith surprise and pleasure." Why,IthoughtIhad lost you for good," saidshe. "Whither are y7ou going? to Lancaster ?"" Not quite so far. Iam going to the' Packhorse.'"Mercy openedher eyes,and blushed high. SirGeorge saw, and, to divert her suspicions, told"her merrily to bew7are of making objections. Iam only a sort of servant in the matter.'TwasMrs. Gaunt ordered me."" Imight have guessedit,"said Mercy." Blessher ; she knewIshould be lonely."

314 GRH'FITH GAUNT." She was not easy till she had got rid of me,Iassure you," said Sir George." So let us makethe best on't, for she is a lady that likes to haveher own way."" She is a noble creature. George,Ishallnever regret anythingIhave done for her.Andshe will not be ungrateful. Oh, the sting ofingratitude :Ihave felt that. Have you?"" No," said Sir George;" Ihave escaped that,by never doing any good actions."" Idoubt you are telling me a lie," said MercyVint.She now looked upon Sir Georgeas Mrs.Gaunt's representative,and prattled freely to him.Only now and then her trouble came over her,and then she took a cpiiet cry without ceremony.As for Sir George, hewondered at her.sat and studied, andNever in his life had he met such a womanasthis, who was as candid with him as if he had

GRIFFITH GAUNT.315been a woman.She seemed to have a window inher bosom, through which he looked, and saw thepureand lovely soul within.In the afternoon they reached a little town,whence a cart conveyed them to the " Packhorse."Here Mercy Vint disappeared, and busied herselfwith Sir George's comforts.He sat by himself in the parlour, and missedhis gentle companion.In the morning Mercy thought of course hewould go.But instead of that, he stayed, and followedher about, andbegan to court her downright.But the warmer he got,the cooler she.Andatlast she said, mighty drily, " This is a very dullplace for the likes of you."" 'Tis the sweetest place inEngland," said he;" at least to me; for it contains — the womanIlove."

316 GRIFFITH GAUNT,3Iercy drew- back, and coloured rosy red. "Ihope not," said she." Iloved y-ou the first dayI saw yrou, and heardyour voice.And nowIloveyou ten times more.Letme dry thy tears for ever, sweet Mercy.Bemy wife."" You are mad," said Mercy." What, wouldyou wed a woman in my condition ?your friend than to take you at your word.Iam moreAndwhat do y7ou thinkIam made of, to go from oneman to another, like that ?"" Take your time, sweetheart;only give meyour hand."" George," said Mercy, very gravely," I ambeholden to you; but my7 duty it lies anotherway.There is a young man in these parts (SirGeorge groaned) that was my follower for twoyears andbetter. Iwronged him for oneInevername now. Imust marry that poor lad, andmake him happy, or else live and die asIam."

GRIFFITH GAUNT.317Sir George turned pale." One word: do yroulove him?"" Ihave aregard for him."" Do you love him?"" Hardly. ButIwronged him,andIowe himamends.Ishall pay my debt."Sir George bowed, and retired sick at heart,and deeply mortified.and sighed.Next day, asMercy looked after himhe walked disconsolate up andclown, she came to him and gave him her hand." You were a good friend to me that bitter day,""said she. Now let me be yours. Do not bidehere: 'twill but vex you."" I am going, madam," said Sir George, stiffly." Ibut wait to see the man you prefer to me. Ifhe is not too unworthy of you,I'll go; and troubleyou nomore.Ihave learned his name."Mercy blushed: for she knew Paul Carriekwould bear no comparison with George Neville.

318 GRIFFITH GAUNT.The next day Sir George took leave to observethat this Paul Carrick did not seem to appreciate"her preference so highly as he ought, Iunderstandhe has neverbeen here."Mercy coloured, but made no reply: and SirGeorge was sorry7 he bad taunted her. Hefollowed her about,and showed her great attention,butnot a word of love.There were fine trout streams in the neighbourhood,and he busied himself fisliing, and in theevening read aloud to Mercy, and waited to seePaul Carrick.Paul never came; and, from a word Mercy letdrop,he saw that she was mortified.Then, beingnotyro in love, he told her he had business inLancaster, and must leave her for a few days.But he would return, and by that time perhapsPaul Carrick would be visible.Now his main object was to try the effect ofcorrespondence.

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 319Every day he sent her along love-letter fromLancaster.Paul Carrick, who, in absenting himself for atime, had acted upon his sister's adviceratherthan his ownnatural impulse, learned that Mercyreceived a letter every day7.This was a thingunheardofin that parish.So then Paul defied hissister's advice, andpresented himself to Mercy; when the followingdialoguetook place :-" Welcome home, Mercy."" Thank you, Paul."" Well, I'm single still,lass."" SoI hear."" I'm come to say,let bygones be bygones."" So be it," said Mercy, drily."You have tried a gentleman.; now try afarrier."" Ihave ; and he did not stand the test."" Anan."

320 GRIFFITH GAUNT." Why did you not comenear me for tendays?""Paul blushed up to the eyes. Well," said he," I'll tell you the truth. 'Twas our Jess advisedme to leave you quietjust atfirst."" Ay, ay. Iwas to be humbled, and made tosmart for my fault;and thenIshould be thankfulto take you. My lad,if ever you should boreally in love, take a friend's advice; listen toyour own heart, and notto shallow advisers.Youhave mortified a poor sorrowful creature whowas going to make a sacrifice for y7ou,and yrouhave losther for ever."" WThat d'ye mean?""Imean that ye are to think no more of MercyVint."" Then itis true, ye jade; ye've gotten a freshlover already."" Say no more 4han you know. If you werethe only man on earthIwould not wed you,PaulCarrick."

GRIFFITH GAUNT.321Paul Carrick retired home, and blew up hissister; and told her that she had " gotten himthe sack again."The next day Sir George came back fromLancaster, and Mercy lowered her lashes for onceat sight of him."Well," said he, "has this Carrick shown asense of your goodness?""He has come, — and gone."She then, withherusual frankness,told him whathad passed." And," said she, with a smile," youarepartly to blame;for how couldIhelp comparingyourbehaviour to me with his ?You cameto my side whenIwasin trouble, and showed merespect whenIexpected scorn from all the world.A friend in need is a friend indeed."" Reward me, reward me !" said Sir George,gaily; " you know the way."" Nay, butI am too much your friend," saidMercy.VOL. III.Y

322 GRIFFITH GAUNT."Be less my friend, then, and more mydarling,He pressed her, he urged her, he stuck to her,he pestered her.She snubbed, and evaded, and parried, andliked him all the better for his pesteringher.At last, one day, she said, "If Mrs. Gauntthinks it will be for your happiness,Iwill — in sixmonths' time: but you shall not marry in hasteto repent at leisure. AndImust have time tolearn two things — whether you canbe constant toa simple woman like me, and whetherIcan loveagain as tenderly as you deserve to be loved."All his endeavours to shake this determinationwere vain. Mercy7 Vint had a terrible deal ofquiet resolution.He retired to Cumberland,and in a long letter,asked Mrs. Gaunt's advice. She replied characteristically.She began very soberly to say thatshe should be the last to advise a marriage

GRIFFITH GAUNT. 323between persons of different conditions in life." But then," said she," this Mercy is altogetheran exception.If a flower grows on a dunghill,'tis still a flower, and not a part of the dunghill.She has the essence of gentility, and indeed hermanners are better bred than most of our ladies.There is too much affectation abroad, and thatis your true vulgarity. Tack 'my lady' on to' Mercy Vint,' and that dignified and quiet simplicityof hers will carry her with credit throughevery court in Europe. Then think of her virtues— (here the writer began to lose her temper)— where can you hope to find such another? sheis a moral genius, and acts well,no matter underwhat temptation, as surely as Claude and Raphaelpaint well.Why, sir, what do you seek in awife ? Wealth ? title? family ? But you possessthem already; you want something in additionthat will make you happy. Well, take thatangelic goodness into your house, and you will

324 GRIFFITH GAUNT.find,by your ownabsolute happiness, how ill yourneighbours have wived.one objection: the child.For my partIsee butWell,if you are manenough to take the mother,Iam woman enoughto take the babe.In one word, he who has thesense to fall in love with such an angel, and hasnot the sense tomarry it,if he can, is a fool."" Postscript— My poor friend, to what end thinkyouIsent you down in the coach with her?"Sir George, thus advised, acted as he wouldhave done had the advicebeen just the opposite.He sent Mercy a love-letter by everypost,andhe often received one in return;only his werepassionate, and hers gentle and affectionate.But one day came a letter that was a mere cryof distress."George; my child is dying.do?"What shallIHe mounted his horse, and rode to her.

GRIFFITH GAUNT.325He came too late. The little boy had diedsuddenly of croup, and was to be buried nextmorning.The poor mother received him upstairs, andhergrief wasterrible. She clung sobbing to him,andcould not be comforted. Yet she felt his coming.But amother's anguish overpoweredall.Crushed by this fearful blow, her strength gaveway for a time, and she clung to George Neville,and told him she had nothing left but him,andone day implored him not to die and leave her.Sir George said all he could think of to comforther; and at the end of a fortnight persuaded herto leave the "Packhorse" and England,as his wife.She had little power to resist now; and indeedlittle inclination.They7 were married by special licence, and spenta twelvemonth abroad.At the end of that time they returned toNeville's Court, and Mercy took her place there

326 GRIFFITH GAUNT.with the same dignified simplicity that hadadorned her in ahumbler station.Sir George had given her no lessons; but shehad observed closely, for his sake; and beingalready"well educated, and very quick and docile,she seldom made him blush except with pride.They were the happiest pair in Cumberland.Her merciful nature now found alarger field forits exercise, and, backed by her husband's purse,she became the Lady Bountiful of the parish andthe county.The day after she reached Neville's Court camean exquisite letter to her from Mrs. Gaunt. : Shesent an affectionate reply.But the Gaunts and the Nevilles did not meetin society.Sir George Neville and Mrs. Gaunt, beingboth singularly brave and haughty people, ratherdespised this arrangement.But it seems that, one clay, when they were all

GRIFFITH GAUNT.327four_in the TownHall,folk whisperedand looked;and both Griffith Gaunt and Lady Neville surprisedthese glances,and determined,by one impulse,itshould neverhappen again. Hence it wasquite understood that the Nevilles and the Gauntswere not to be asked tothe same party or ball.The wives, however, corresponded, and LadyNeville easily induced Mrs. Gaunt to co-operatewith her inher benevolent acts, especially in savingyoung women, who had been betrayed,fromsinking deeper.Living a good many miles apart, Lady Nevillecould send her stray sheep to service near Mrs.Gaunt; and viceversa;and so, merciful, butdiscriminating, they saved many a poor girl whohad been weak,not wicked.So then, though they could not eat nor dancetogetherin earthly mansions, they could do goodtogether; and, methinks, in the eternal world,where years of social intercourse will prove less

328 GRIFFITH GAUNT.than cobwebs, these their joint acts of mercy willbe links of a bright, strong chain, to bind theirsouls in everlasting amity.It was aremarkable circumstance, that the onechild of Lady Neville's unhappy marriage died,but her nine children by Sir George all grew togoodly men and women. That branch of theNevilles became remarkable for high principleand good sense; and this they owe to MercyVint, and to Sir George's courage in marryingher.This Mercy was granddaughter to one ofCromwell's ironsides, and brought her rare personalmerit into their house, and also the bestblood of the old Puritans, than which there isno blood in Europe more rich in male courage,female chastity, and all the virtues.THE end.LONDON; PRINTED BT WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, STAMFOBD STBEETAND CHASING CaOSS,