produce the advertisement."

"Sir, I will not," said Mercy, calmly.

"Then I shall move the court to commit you."

"For what offence, if you please?"

"For perjury and contempt of court."

"I am guiltless of either, God knows. But I will not show the
advertisement."

_Judge._ This is very extraordinary. Perhaps you have it not about you.

_Mercy._ My lord, the truth is I have it in my bosom. But, if I show it,
it will not make this matter one whit clearer, and 't will open the
wounds of two poor women. 'T is not for myself. But, O my lord, look at
her. Hath she not gone through grief enow?

The appeal was made with a quiet, touching earnestness, that affected
every hearer. But the judge had a duty to perform. "Witness," said he,
"you mean well; but indeed you do the prisoner an injury by withholding
this paper. Be good enough to produce it at once."

_Prisoner_ (with a deep sigh). Obey my lord.

_Mercy_ (with a patient sigh). There, sir, may the Lord forgive you the
useless mischief you are doing.

_Whitworth._ I am doing my duty, young woman. And yours is to tell the
whole truth, and not a part only.

_Mercy_ (acquiescing). That is true, sir.

_Whitworth._ Why, what is this? 'T is not Mr. Gaunt you advertise for in
these papers. 'T is Thomas Leicester.

_Judge._ What is that? I don't understand.

_Whitworth._ Nor I neither.

_Judge._ Let me see the papers. 'T is Thomas Leicester sure enough.

_Whitworth._ And you mean to swear that Griffith Gaunt answered an
advertisement inviting Thomas Leicester?

_Mercy._ I do. Thomas Leicester was the name he went by in our part.

_Whitworth._ What? what? You are jesting.

_Mercy._ Is this a place or a time for jesting? I say he called himself
Thomas Leicester.

Here the business was interrupted again by a multitudinous murmur of
excited voices. Everybody was whispering astonishment to his neighbor.
And the whisper of a great crowd has the effect of a loud murmur.

_Whitworth._ O, he called himself Thomas Leicester, did he? Then what
makes you think he is Griffith Gaunt?

_Mercy._ Well, sir, the pedler, whose real name was Thomas Leicester,
came to our house one day, and saw his picture, and knew it; and said
something to a neighbor that raised my suspicions. When _he_ came home,
I took this shirt out of a drawer; 't was the shirt he wore when he
first came to us. 'T is marked "G. G." (The shirt was examined.) Said I,
"For God's sake speak the truth: wh