"Well, I'm sure I don't know what to do," said Mrs. Menteith. "She says she will lie at your door all night, but she will see you. 'Tis the face of a friend. She may know something. It seems hard to thrust her and her child out into the street, after their coming all the way from Lancashire." Mrs. Gaunt stood silent awhile, and her intelligence had a severe combat with her deep repugnance to be in the same room with Griffith Gaunt's mistress (so she considered her). But a certain curiosity came to the aid of her good sense; and after all she was a brave and haughty woman, and her natural courage began to rise. She thought to herself, "What, dare she come to me all this way, and shall I shrink from _her?_" She turned to Mrs. Menteith with a bitter smile, and she said, very slowly, and clenching her white teeth, "Since you desire it, and she _insists_ on it, I will receive Mistress Mercy Vint." Mrs. Menteith went off, and in about five minutes returned ushering in Mercy Vint in a hood and travelling-cloak. Mrs. Gaunt received her standing, and with a very formal curtsy, to which Mercy made a quiet obeisance, and both women looked one another all over in a moment. Mrs. Menteith lingered, to know what on earth this was all about; but, as neither spoke a word, and their eyes were fixed on each other, she divined that her absence was necessary, and so retired, slowly, looking very much amazed at both of them. CHAPTER XII "Be seated, mistress, if you please," said Mrs. Gaunt, with icy civility, "and let me know to what I owe this extraordinary visit." "I thank you. Dame," said Mercy, "for indeed I am sore fatigued." She sat quietly down. "Why I have come to you? It was to serve you, and to keep my word with George Neville." "Will you be kind enough to explain?" said Mrs. Gaunt, in a freezing tone, and with a look of her great grey eye to match. Mercy felt chilled, and was too frank to disguise it. "Alas," said she, softly, "'tis hard to be received so, and me come all the way from Lancashire, with a heart like lead, to do my duty, God willing." The tears stood in her eyes, and her mellow voice was sweet and patient. The gentle remonstrance was not quite without effect. Mrs. Gaunt colored a little: she said, stiffly, "Excuse me if I seem discourteous: but you and I ought not to be in one room a moment. You do not see this, apparently. But at least I have a right to insist that such an interview shall be very brief, and to the purpose. Oblige me then, by telling me in plain terms why you have come hither." "Madam, to be your witness at the trial." "_You_ to be _my_ witness?" "Why not? If I can clear you? What, would you rather be condemned for murder, than let me show them you are innocent? Alas, how you hate me!" "Hate you, child?" said Mrs. Gaunt, coloring to her temples: "of course I hate you. We are both of us flesh and blood, and hate one another. And one of us is honest enough, and uncivil enough, to say so."