iness; and he stayed on and on, strengthening his
gratitude and his affection, and weakening his love for the absent, and
his resolution; till, at last, he became so distracted and divided in
heart, and so demoralized, that he began to give up the idea of
abandoning Mercy, and babbled to himself about fate and destiny, and
decided that the most merciful course would be to deceive both women.
Mercy was patient. Mercy was unsuspicious. She would content herself
with occasional visits, if he could only feign some plausible tale to
account for long absences.

Before he got into this mess, he was a singularly truthful person; but
now a lie was nothing to him. But, for that matter, many a man has been
first made a liar by his connection with two women; and by degrees has
carried his mendacity into other things.

However, though now blessed with mendacity, he was cursed with a lack of
invention; and sorely puzzled how to live at Hernshaw, yet visit the
"Packhorse."

The best thing he could hit upon was to pretend to turn bagman; and so
Mercy would believe he was travelling all over England, when all the
time he was quietly living at Hernshaw.

And perhaps these long separations might prepare her heart for a final
parting, and so let in his original plan a few years hence.

He prepared this manoeuvre with some art: he told her, one day, he had
been to Lancaster, and there fallen in with a friend, who had as good as
promised him the place of a commercial traveller for a mercantile house
there.

"A traveller!" said Mercy. "Heaven forbid! If you knew how I wearied for
you when you went to Cumberland!"

"To Cumberland! How know you I went thither?"

"O, I but guessed that; but now I know it, by your face. But go where
thou wilt, the house is dull directly. Thou art our sunshine. Isn't he,
my poppet?"

"Well, well; if it kept me too long from thee, I could give it up. But,
child, we must think of young master. You could manage the inn, and your
mother the farm, without me; and I should be earning money on my side. I
want to make a gentleman of him."

"Anything for _him_," said Mercy: "anything in the world." But the tears
stood in her eyes.

In furtherance of this deceit, Griffith did one day actually ride to
Lancaster, and slept there. He wrote to Kate from that town, to say he
was detained by a slight illness, but hoped to be home in a week: and
the next day brought Mercy home some ribbons, and told her he had seen