o! Master Vint, come
hither. Here's Black Dick come home, and brought you a worshipful
customer."

The landlord bustled out of the kitchen, crying, "They are welcome
both." Then he came lowly louting to Griffith, cap in hand, and held the
horse, poor immovable brute; and his wife courtesied perseveringly at
the door.

Griffith dismounted, and stood there looking like one in a dream.

"Please you come in, sir," said the landlady, smiling professionally.

He followed her mechanically.

"Would your worship be private? We keep a parlor for gentles."

"Ay, let me be alone," he groaned.

Mercy Vint, the daughter, happened to be on the stairs and heard him:
the voice startled her, and she turned round directly to look at the
speaker; but she only saw his back going into the room, and then he
flung himself like a sack into the arm-chair.

The landlady invited him to order supper: he declined. She pressed him.
He flung a piece of money on the table, and told her savagely to score
his supper, and leave him in peace.

She flounced out with a red face, and complained to her husband in the
kitchen.

Harry Vint rung the crown-piece on the table before he committed himself
to a reply. It rang like a bell. "Churl or not, his coin is good," said
Harry Vint, philosophically. "I'll eat his supper, dame, for that
matter."

"Father," whispered Mercy, "I do think the gentleman is in trouble."

"And that is no business of mine, neither," said Harry Vint.

Presently the guest they were discussing called loudly for a quart of
burnt wine.

When it was ready, Mercy offered to take it in to him. She was curious.
The landlord looked up rather surprised; for his daughter attended to
the farm, but fought shy of the inn and its business.

"Take it, lass, and welcome for me," said Mrs. Vint, pettishly.

Mercy took the wine in, and found Griffith with his head buried in his
hands.

She stood awhile with the tray, not knowing what to do.

Then, as he did not move, she said softly, "The wine, sir, an if it
please you."

Griffith lifted his head, and turned two eyes clouded with suffering
upon her. He saw a buxom, blooming young woman, with remarkably
dove-like eyes that dwelt with timid, kindly curiosity upon him. He
looked at her in a half-distracted way, and then put his hand to the
mug. "Here's perdition to all false women!" said he, and tossed half the
wine down at a single draught.

"'T is not to me you drink, sir," said Me