d sobs, and
told him she had never been at once so sorry and so comforted, since she
left home. Still she wept bitterly; and it was the greater pain to Tom
to see her weeping, from her standing in especial need, just then, of
sympathy and tenderness.

'Come, come!' said Tom, 'you used to be as cheerful as the day was
long.'

'Ah! used!' she cried, in such a tone as rent Tom's heart.

'And will be again,' said Tom.

'No, never more. No, never, never more. If you should talk with old Mr
Chuzzlewit, at any time,' she added, looking hurriedly into his face--'I
sometimes thought he liked you, but suppressed it--will you promise me
to tell him that you saw me here, and that I said I bore in mind the
time we talked together in the churchyard?'

Tom promised that he would.

'Many times since then, when I have wished I had been carried there
before that day, I have recalled his words. I wish that he should know
how true they were, although the least acknowledgment to that effect has
never passed my lips and never will.'

Tom promised this, conditionally too. He did not tell her how improbable
it was that he and the old man would ever meet again, because he thought
it might disturb her more.

'If he should ever know this, through your means, dear Mr Pinch,' said
Mercy, 'tell him that I sent the message, not for myself, but that he
might be more forbearing and more patient, and more trustful to some
other person, in some other time of need. Tell him that if he could know
how my heart trembled in the balance that day, and what a very little
would have turned the scale, his own would bleed with pity for me.'

'Yes, yes,' said Tom, 'I will.'

'When I appeared to him the most unworthy of his help, I was--I know I
was, for I have often, often, thought about it since--the most inclined
to yield to what he showed me. Oh! if he had relented but a little more;
if he had thrown himself in my way for but one other quarter of an hour;
if he had extended his compassion for a vain, unthinking, miserable
girl, in but the least degree; he might, and I believe he would, have
saved her! Tell him that I don't blame him, but am grateful for the
effort that he made; but ask him for the love of God, and youth, and
in merciful consideration for the struggle which an ill-advised and
unwakened nature makes to hide the strength it thinks its weakness--ask
him never, never, to forget this, when he deals with one again!'

Although Tom did not h