eyed wife and mother. He was a good-natured fellow, and averse to make mischief with his own hands. Besides, he took for granted Griffith loved his new wife better than the old one; and, above all, the punishment of bigamy was severe, and was it for him to get the Squire indicted, and branded in the hand for a felon?
So the women could get nothing more out of him; he lied, evaded, shuffled, and feigned utter ignorance; pleading, adroitly enough, his vagrant life.
All this, however, aroused vague suspicions in Mrs. Vint's mind, and she went and whispered them to her favorite, Paul Carrick. "And, Paul," said she, "call for what you like, and score it to me; only treat this pedler till he leaks out summut: to be sure he'll tell a man more than he will us."
Paul entered with zeal into this commission: treated the pedler to a chop, and plied him well with the best ale.
All this failed to loose the pedler's tongue at the time, but it muddled his judgment: on resuming his journey, he gave his entertainer a wink. Carrick rose and followed him out.
"You seem a decent lad," said the pedler, "and a good-hearted one. Wilt do me a favor?"
Carrick said he would, if it lay in his power.
"O, it is easy enow," said the pedler. "'T is just to give young Thomas Leicester, into his own hand, this here trifle as soon as ever he comes home." And he handed Carrick a hard substance wrapped up in paper. Carrick promised.
"Ay, ay, lad," said the pedler, "but see you play fair, and give it him unbeknown. Now don't you be so simple as show it to any of the womenfolk. D' ye understand?"
"All right," said Carrick, knowingly. And so the boon companions for a day shook hands and parted.
And Carrick took the little parcel straight to Mrs. Vint, and told her every word the pedler had said.
And Mrs. Vint took the little parcel straight to Mercy, and told her what Carrick said the pedler had said.
And the pedler went off flushed with beer and self-complacency; for he thought he had drawn the line precisely; had faithfully discharged his promise to his lady and benefactress, but not so as to make mischief in another household.
Such was the power of Ale—in the last century.
Mercy undid the paper and found the bullet, on which was engraved
"I LOVE KATE."
As she read these words a knife seemed to enter her heart, the pang was so keen.
But she soon took herself to task. "Thou naughty woman," said she. "What! jealous of the dead?"
She wrapped the bullet up; put it carefully away; had a good cry; and was herself again.
But all this set her watching Griffith, and reading his face. She had subtle, vague misgivings, and forbade her mother to mention the pedler's visit to Griffith yet awhile. Womanlike she preferred to worm out the truth.
On the evening of his return from Lancaster, as he was smoking his pipe, she quietly tested him. She fixed her eyes on him, and said, "One was here to-day that knows thee, and brought thee this." She then handed him the bullet, and watched his face.
Griffith undid the paper carelessly enough; but, at sight of the bullet, uttered a loud cry, and his eyes seemed ready to start out of his head.
He turned as pale as ashes, and stammered piteously, "What? what? what d'ye mean? In Heaven's name, what is this? How? Who?"
Mercy was surprised, but also much concerned at his distress; and tried to soothe him. She also asked him piteously, whether she had done wrong to give it him. "God knows," said she, "'t is no business of mine to go and remind thee of her thou hast loved better
