nd such another? She is a moral genius, and acts well, no
matter under what temptation, as surely as Claude and Raphael paint
well. Why, sir, what do you seek in a wife? Wealth? title? family? But
you possess them already; you want something in addition that will make
you happy. Well, take that angelic goodness into your house, and you
will find, by your own absolute happiness, how ill your neighbors have
wived. For my part, I see but one objection: the child. Well, if you are
man enough to take the mother, I am woman enough to take the babe. In
one word, he who has the sense to fall in love with such an angel, and
has not the sense to marry it, if he can, is a fool.

"Postscript.--My poor friend, to what end think you I sent you down in
the coach with her?"

* * * * *

Sir George, thus advised, acted as he would have done had the advice
been just the opposite.

He sent Mercy a love-letter by every post, and he often received one in
return; only his were passionate, and hers gentle and affectionate.

But one day came a letter that was a mere cry of distress.

"George, my child is dying. What shall I do?"

He mounted his horse, and rode to her.

He came too late. The little boy had died suddenly of croup, and was to
be buried next morning.

The poor mother received him up stairs, and her grief was terrible. She
clung sobbing to him, and could not be comforted. Yet she felt his
coming. But a mother's anguish overpowered all.

Crushed by this fearful blow, her strength gave way for a time, and she
clung to George Neville, and told him she had nothing left but him, and
one day implored him not to die and leave her.

Sir George said all he could think of to comfort her; and at the end of
a fortnight persuaded her to leave the "Packhorse," and England, as his
wife.

She had little power to resist now, and indeed little inclination.

They were married by special license, and spent a twelvemonth abroad.

At the end of that time they returned to Neville's Court, and Mercy took
her place there with the same dignified simplicity that had adorned her
in a humbler station.

Sir George had given her no lessons; but she had observed closely, for
his sake; and being already 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
a larger field for its exercise, and, backed by he