heart from pain. She was
kind, and even pitiful; but so discreet and resolute, and contrived to
draw the line so clearly between her husband and her old sweetheart,
that Griffith's foible could not burn him, for want of fuel.

And so passed several months, and the man's heart was at peace. He could
not love Mercy passionately as he had loved Kate; but he was full of
real regard and esteem for her. It was one of those gentle, clinging
attachments that outlast grand passions, and survive till death; a
tender, pure affection, though built upon a crime.

* * * * *

They had been married, and lived in sweet content, about three quarters
of a year--when trouble came; but in a vulgar form. A murrain carried
off several of Harry Vint's cattle; and it then came out that he had
purchased six of them on credit, and had been induced to set his hand
to bills of exchange for them. His rent was also behind, and, in fact,
his affairs were in a desperate condition.

He hid it as long as he could from them all; but at last, being served
with a process for debt, and threatened with a distress and an
execution, he called a family council and exposed the real state of
things.

Mrs. Vint rated him soundly for keeping all this secret so long.

He whom they called Thomas Leicester remonstrated with him. "Had you
told me in time," said he, "I had not paid forfeit for 'The Vine,' but
settled there, and given you a home."

Mercy said never a word but "Poor father!"

As the peril drew nearer, the conversations became more animated and
agitated, and soon the old people took to complaining of Thomas
Leicester to his wife.

"Thou hast married a gentleman; and he hath not the heart to lift a hand
to save thy folk from ruin."

"Say not so," pleaded Mercy: "to be sure he hath the heart, but not the
means. 'T was but yestreen he bade me sell his jewels for you. But,
mother, I think they belonged to some one he loved,--and she died. So,
poor thing, how could I? Then, if you love me, blame me, and not him."

"Jewels, quotha! will they stop such a gap as ours?" was the
contemptuous reply.

From complaining of him behind his back, the old people soon came to
launching innuendoes obliquely at him. Here is one specimen out of a
dozen.

"Wife, if our Mercy had wedded one of her own sort, mayhap he'd have
helped us a bit."

"Ay, poor soul; and she so near her time: if the bailiffs come down on
us next month, 'tis