nd, to be
sure, you are a fine personable man, and capital company; and you are
always about the girl; and, bethink you, sir, she is flesh and blood
like her neighbors; and they say, once a body has tasted venison-steak,
it spoils their stomach for oat-porridge. Now that is Mercy's case, I'm
thinking; not that she ever said as much to me,--she is too reserved.
But, bless your heart, I'm forced to go about with eyes in my head, and
watch 'em all a bit,--me that keeps an inn."

Griffith groaned. "I'm a villain!" said he.

"Nay, nay," said Mrs. Vint. "Gentlefolks must be amused, cost what it
may; but, hoping no offence, sir, the girl was a good friend to you in
time of sickness; and so was this Paul, for that matter."

"She was," cried Griffith; "God bless her. How can I ever repay her?"

"Well, sir," said Mrs. Vint, "if that comes from your heart, you might
take our Mercy apart, and tell her you like her very well, but not
enough to marry a farmer's daughter,--don't say an innkeeper's daughter,
or you'll be sure to offend her. She is bitter against the 'Packhorse.'
Says you, 'This Paul is an honest lad, turn your heart back to him.'
And, with that, mount your black horse and ride away, and God speed you,
sir; we shall often talk of you at the 'Packhorse,' and naught but
good."

Griffith gave the woman his hand, and his breast labored visibly.

Jealousy was ingrained in the man. Mrs. Vint had pricked his conscience,
but she had wounded his foible. He was not in love with Mercy, but he
esteemed her, and liked her, and saw her value, and, above all, could
not bear another man should have her.

Now this gave the matter a new turn. Mrs. Vint had overcome her dislike
to him long ago: still he was not her favorite. But his giving her his
hand with a gentle pressure, and his manifest agitation, rather won her;
and, as uneducated women are your true weathercocks, she went about
directly. "To be sure," said she, "our Mercy is too good for the likes
of him. She is not like Harry and me. She has been well brought up by
her Aunt Prudence, as was governess in a nobleman's house. She can read
and write, and cast accounts; good at her sampler, and can churn and
make cheeses, and play of the viol, and lead the psalm in church, and
dance a minuet, she can, with any lady in the land. As to her nursing in
time of sickness, that I leave to you, sir."

"She is an angel," cried Griffith, "and my benefactress: no man living
is good enou