The next day Sir George took leave to observe that this Paul Carrick did not seem to appreciate her preference so highly as he ought. "I understand he has never been here." Mercy colored, but made no reply; and Sir George was sorry he had taunted her. He followed her about, and showed her great attention, but not a word of love. There were fine trout streams in the neighborhood, and he busied himself fishing, and in the evening read aloud to Mercy, and waited to see Paul Carrick. Paul never came; and from a word Mercy let drop, he saw that she was mortified. Then, being no tyro in love, he told her he had business in Lancaster, and must leave her for a few days. But he would return, and by that time perhaps Paul Carrick would be visible. Now his main object was to try the effect of correspondence. Every day he sent her a long love-letter from Lancaster. Paul Carrick, who, in absenting himself for a time, had acted upon his sister's advice, rather than his own natural impulse, learned that Mercy received a letter every day. This was a thing unheard of in that parish. So then Paul defied his sister's advice, and presented himself to Mercy; when the following dialogue took place. "Welcome home, Mercy." "Thank you, Paul." "Well, I'm single still, lass." "So I hear." "I'm come to say let bygones be bygones." "So be it," said Mercy, dryly. "You have tried a gentleman; now try a farrier." "I have; and he did not stand the test." "Anan." "Why did you not come near me for ten days?" Paul blushed up to the eyes. "Well," said he, "I'll tell you the truth. 'T was our Jess advised me to leave you quiet just at first." "Ay, ay. I was to be humbled, and made to smart for my fault; and then I should be thankful to take you. My lad, if ever you should be really in love, take a friend's advice; listen to your own heart, and not to shallow advisers. You have mortified a poor sorrowful creature, who was going to make a sacrifice for you; and you have lost her forever." "What d'ye mean?" "I mean that you are to think no more of Mercy Vint." "Then it is true, ye jade; ye've gotten a fresh lover already." "Say no more than you know. If you were the only man on earth, I would not wed you, Paul Carrick." Paul Carrick retired home, and blew up his sister, and told her that she had "gotten him the sack again." The next day Sir George came back from Lancaster, and Mercy lowered her lashes for once at sight of him. "Well," said he, "has this Carrick shown a sense of your goodness?" "He has come,--and gone." She then, with her usual frankness, told him what had passed. "And," said she, with a smile, "you are partly to blame; for how could I help comparing your behavior to me with his? _You_ came to my side when I was in trouble, and showed me respect when I expected scorn from all the world. A friend in need is a friend indeed." "Reward me, reward me," said Sir George, gayly; "you know the way."