Then she turned to Neville, and said solemnly, "You wish to know the truth in this dark matter: for dark it is in very sooth." Neville was much impressed by her manner, and answered respectfully, Yes, he desired to know--by all means. "Then take my hand," said Mercy, "and kneel down with me." Sir George looked surprised, but obeyed, and kneeled down beside her, with his hand in hers. There was a long pause, and then took place a transformation. The dove-like eyes were lifted to Heaven, and gleamed like opals with an inward and celestial light; the comely face shone with a higher beauty, and the rich voice rose in ardent supplication. "Thou God, to whom all hearts be known, and no secrets hid from thine eye, look down now on thy servant in sore trouble, that putteth her trust in thee. Give wisdom to the simple this day, and understanding to the lowly. Thou that didst reveal to babes and sucklings the great things that were hidden from the wise, oh show us the truth in this dark matter: enlighten us by thy spirit, for his dear sake, who suffered more sorrows than I suffer now. Amen. Amen." Then she looked at Neville: and he said "Amen," with all his heart, and the tears in his eyes. He had never heard real live prayer before. Here the little hand gripped his hard, as she wrestled, and the heart seemed to rise out of the bosom and fly to Heaven on the sublime and thrilling voice. They rose, and she sat down; but it seemed as if her eyes once raised to Heaven in prayer could not come down again: they remained fixed and angelic, and her lips still moved in supplication. Sir George Neville, though a loose liver, was no scoffer; he was smitten with reverence for this inspired countenance, and retired, bowing low and obsequiously. He took a long walk and thought it all over. One thing was clear, and consoling. He felt sure he had done wisely to disobey Mrs. Gaunt's instructions, and make a friend of Mercy, instead of trying to set his wits against hers. Ere he returned to the "Packhorse," he had determined to take another step in the right direction. He did not like to agitate her with another interview, so soon. But he wrote her a little letter. "MADAM,--When I came here, I did not know you; and therefore I feared to trust you too far. But, now I do know you for the best woman in England, I take the open way with you. "Know that Mrs. Gaunt said the man would be here with you; and she charged me with a few written lines to him. She would be angry if she knew that I had shown them to any other. Yet I take on me to show them to you: for I believe you are wiser than any of us, if the truth were known. I do therefore entreat you to read these lines, and tell me whether you think the hand that wrote them can have shed the blood of him to whom they are writ. "I am, Madam, "With profound respect, "Your grateful and very humble servant,