inward and celestial light; the comely face shone with a higher beauty,
and the rich voice rose in ardent supplication.

"Thou God, to whom all hearts be known, and no secrets hid from thine
eye, look down now on thy servant in sore trouble, that putteth her
trust in thee. Give wisdom to the simple this day, and understanding to
the lowly. Thou that didst reveal to babes and sucklings the great
things that were hidden from the wise, O show us the truth in this dark
matter: enlighten us by thy spirit, for His dear sake who suffered more
sorrows than I suffer now. Amen. Amen."

Then she looked at Neville; and he said "Amen," with all his heart, and
the tears in his eyes.

He had never heard real live prayer before. Here the little hand gripped
his hard, as she wrestled; and the heart seemed to rise out of the bosom
and fly to Heaven on the sublime and thrilling voice.

They rose, and she sat down; but it seemed as if her eyes once raised to
Heaven in prayer could not come down again: they remained fixed and
angelic, and her lips still moved in supplication.

Sir George Neville, though a loose liver, was no scoffer. He was smitten
with reverence for this inspired countenance, and retired, bowing low
and obsequiously.

He took a long walk, and thought it all over. One thing was clear, and
consoling. He felt sure he had done wisely to disobey Mrs. Gaunt's
instructions, and make a friend of Mercy, instead of trying to set his
wits against hers. Ere he returned to the "Packhorse" he had determined
to take another step in the right direction. He did not like to agitate
her with another interview, so soon. But he wrote her a little letter.

"MADAM,--When I came here, I did not know you; and therefore I
feared to trust you too far. But, now I do know you for the
best woman in England, I take the open way with you.

"Know that Mrs. Gaunt said the man would be here with you; and
she charged me with a few written lines to him. She would be
angry if she knew that I had shown them to any other. Yet I
take on me to show them to you; for I believe you are wiser
than any of us, if the truth were known. I do therefore entreat
you to read these lines, and tell me whether you think the hand
that wrote them can have shed the blood of him to whom they are
writ.

"I am, madam, with profound respect,

"Your grateful and very humble servant,

"GEORGE NEVI