the bill was paid; the black horse saddled and brought round to the door. mr. and mrs. vint stood bareheaded to honour the parting guest; and the latter offered him the stirrup cup.

griffith looked round for mercy; she was nowhere to be seen.

then he said, piteously, to mrs. vint, "what, not even bid me good-bye?"

mrs. vint replied, in a very low voice, that there was no disrespect intended. "the truth is, sir, she could not trust herself to see you go; but she bade me give you a message. says she, 'mother, tell him i pray god to bless him, go where he will.'"

something rose in griffith's throat. "oh, dame!" said he, "if she only knew the truth, she would think better of me than she does. god bless her!"

and he rode sorrowfully away, alone in the world once more.

at the first turn in the road, he wheeled his horse, and took a last lingering look.

there was nothing vulgar, nor inn-like, in the "packhorse." it stood fifty yards from the road on a little rural green, and was picturesque itself. the front was entirely clad with large-leaved ivy. shutters there were none: the windows, with their diamond panes, were lustrous squares, set like great eyes in the green ivy. it looked a pretty, peaceful retreat, and in it griffith had found peace, and a dove-like friend.

he sighed, and rode away from the sight; not raging and convulsed, as when he rode from hernshaw castle, but somewhat sick at heart and very heavy.

he paced so slowly that it took him a quarter of an hour to reach the "woodman," a wayside inn not two miles distant. as he went by, a farmer hailed him from the porch, and insisted on drinking with him; for he was very popular in the neighbourhood. whilst they were thus employed, who should come out but paul carrick, booted and spurred; and flushed in the face, and rather the worse for liquor imbibed on the spot.

"so you are going, are ye?" said he. "a good job too." then, turning to the other, "master gutteridge, never you save a man's life if you can anywise help it. i saved this one's: and what does he do but turn round and poison my sweetheart against me."

"how can you say so?" remonstrated griffith. "i never belied you. your name scarce ever passed my lips."

"don't tell me," said carrick. "however, she has come to her senses, and given your worship the sack. ride you into cumberland, and i to the 'packhorse,' and take my own again."

with this he unhooked his nag from the wall, and clattered off to the "packhorse."

griffith sat a moment stupified, and then his face was convulsed by his ruling passion. he wheeled his horse, gave him the spur, and galloped after carrick.

he soon came up with him, and yelled in his ear, "i'll teach you to spit your wormwood in my cup of sorrow."

carrick shook his fist defiantly, and spurred his horse in turn.

it was an exciting race, and a novel one; but soon decided. the great black hunter went ahead, and still improved his advantage. carrick, purple with rage, was full a quarter of a mile behind, when griffith dashed furiously into the stable of the "packhorse," and, leaving black dick panting and covered with foam, ran in search of mercy.

the girl told him she was in the dairy: he looked in at the window, and there she was with her mother. with instinctive sense and fortitude she had fled to work. she was trying to churn; but it would not do: she had laid her shapely arm all across the churn, and her head on it, and was crying. mrs. vint was praising carrick, and offering homely consolation.

"ah, mother," sighed mercy, "i could have made him happy. he does not know that; and he has turned his back on content. what will become of him now?"

griffith heard no more: he went round to the front door, and rushed in.

"take your own way, dame," said he, in great agitation. "put up the banns when you like. sweetheart, wilt wed with me? i'll make thee the best husband i can."

mercy screamed faintly, and lifted up her hands; then she blushed and trembled to her very finger ends; but it ended in smiles of joy and her brow upon his shoulder. in which attitude, with mrs. vint patting him approvingly on the back, they were surprised by paul carrick. he came to the door, and there stood aghast.

the young man stared ruefully at the picture, and then said, very drily, "i'm too late, methinks."

"that you be, paul," said mrs. vint, cheerfully. "she is meat for your master."

"don't—you—never—come to me—to save your life—no more," blubbered paul, breaking down all of a sudden.

he then retired, little heeded, and came no more to the "packhorse" for several days.