sixpence.

He also caught sight of Mercy's dove-like eyes as she bestowed her alms,
and they were lit with an inward lustre.

"She cannot be an ill woman," said Sir George. "I'll e'en go by my own
eyes and judgment. After all, Mrs. Gaunt has never seen her, and I
have."

He went and knocked at Mercy's door.

"Come in," said a mild voice.

Neville entered, and said, abruptly, and with great emotion, "Madam, I
see you can feel for the unhappy; so I take my own way now, and appeal
to your pity. I _have_ come to speak to you on the saddest business."

"You come from _him_," said Mercy, closing her lips tight; but her bosom
heaved. Her heart and her judgment grappled like wrestlers that moment.

"Nay, madam," said Sir George, "I come from _her_."

Mercy knew in a moment who "her" must be.

She looked scared, and drew back with manifest signs of repulsion.

The movement did not escape Sir George: it alarmed him. He remembered
what Mrs. Gaunt had said,--that this woman would be sure to hate Gaunt's
lawful wife. But it was too late to go back. He did the next best thing,
he rushed on.

He threw himself on his knees before Mercy Vint.

"O madam," he cried, piteously, "do not set your heart against the most
unhappy lady in England. If you did but know her, her nobleness, her
misery! Before you steel yourself against me, her friend, let me ask you
one question. Do you know where Mrs. Gaunt is at this moment?"

Mercy answered coldly, "How should I know where she is?"

"Well, then, she lies in Carlisle jail."

"She--lies--in Carlisle jail?" repeated Mercy, looking all confused.

"They accuse her of murdering her husband."

Mercy uttered a scream, and, catching her child up off the floor, began
to rock herself and moan over it.

"No, no, no," cried Sir George, "she is innocent, she is innocent."

"What is that to _me_?" cried Mercy, wildly. "He is murdered, he is
dead, and my child an orphan." And so she went on moaning and rocking
herself.

"But I tell you he is not dead at all," cried Sir George. "'Tis all a
mistake. When did you see him last?"

"More than six weeks ago."

"I mean, 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 heart-broken. She accused herself of
Griffith's death. "'T was I who drove him from me," she said. "'T was I
who bade him go back to his lawful wife; and the wretch hated him. I