"Don't spare him for me. In your place I'd trounce the villain finely." "Ay," said Mercy, "and then forgive him. But I am different. I shall never forgive him; but I am a poor hand at punishing and revenging. I always was. My name is Mercy, you know. To tell the truth, I was to have been called Prudence, after my good aunt; but she said, nay: she had lived to hear Greed, and Selfishness, and a heap of faults, named Prudence: 'call the child something that means what it does mean, and not after me,' quoth she. So with me hearing 'Mercy, Mercy,' called out after me so many years, I do think the quality hath somehow got under my skin; for I can't abide to see folk smart, let alone to strike the blow. What, shall I take the place of God, and punish the evil-doers, because 'tis me they wrong? Nay, Dame, I will never punish him, though he hath wronged me cruelly: all I shall do is to think very ill of him, and shun him, and tear his memory out of my heart. You look at me; do you think I cannot? You don't know me. I am very resolute when I see clear. Of course I loved him: loved him dearly. He was like a husband to me, and a kind one. But the moment I knew how basely he had deceived us both, my heart began to turn against the man, and now 'tis ice to him. Heaven knows what I am made of; for, believe me, I'd liever ten times be beside you than beside him. My heart it lay like a lump of lead till I heard your story, and found I could do you a good turn; you that he had wronged, as well as me. I read your beautiful eyes; but nay, fear me not; I'm not the woman to pine for the fruit that is my neighbor's. All I ask for on earth is a few kind words and looks from you. You are gentle and I am simple; but we are both one flesh and blood, and your lovely wet eyes do prove it this moment. Dame Gaunt--Kate--I ne'er was ten miles from home afore, and I am come all this weary way to serve thee. Oh, give me the one thing that can do me good in this world, the one thing I pine for--a little of _your_ love." The words were scarce out of her lips when Mrs. Gaunt caught her impetuously round the neck with both hands, and laid her on that erring but noble heart of hers, and kissed her eagerly. They kissed one another again and again, and wept over one another. And now Mrs. Gaunt, who did nothing by halves, could not make enough of Mercy Vint. She ordered supper and ate with her, to make her eat. Mrs. Menteith offered Mercy a bed; but Mrs. Gaunt said she must lie with her, she and her child. "What," said she, "think you I'll let you out of my sight? Alas, who knows when you and I shall ever be together again?" "I know," said Mercy, very gravely. "In this world--never." They slept in one bed, and held each other by the hand all night, and talked to one another, and in the morning knew each the other's story, and each the other's mind and character, better than their oldest acquaintances knew either the one or the other. CHAPTER XIII