One Drummond, a travelling artist, called; and Mercy, who had often refused to sit to him, consented now; for, she said, when he grows up he shall know how his parents looked in their youth, the very year their darling was born. So Griffith had to sit with her, and excellent likenesses the man produced; but a horrible one of the child. And Griffith thought,—"Poor soul; a little while and this picture will be all that shall be left to thee of me."
For all this time he was actually transacting the preliminaries of separation. He got a man of law to make all sure. The farm, the stock, the furniture and goodwill of the "Packhorse," all these he got assigned to Mercy Leicester for her own use, in consideration of three hundred and fifty pounds, whereof three hundred were devoted to clearing the concern of its debts, the odd fifty was to sweeten the pill to Harry Vint.
When the deed came to be executed, Mercy was surprised, and uttered a gentle remonstrance. "What have I to do with it?" said she. "'Tis thy money, not mine."
"No matter," said Griffith; "I choose to have it so."
"Your will is my law," said Mercy.
"Besides," said Griffith, "the old folk will not feel so sore, nor be afraid of being turned out, if it is in thy name."
"And that is true," said Mercy. "Now who had thought of that, but my good man?" And she threw her arms lovingly round his neck, and gazed on him adoringly.
But his lion-like eyes avoided her dove-like eyes; and an involuntary shudder ran through him.
The habit of deceiving Mercy led to a consequence he had not anticipated. It tightened the chain that held him. She opened his eyes more and more to her deep affection, and he began to fear she would die if he abandoned her.
And then her present situation was so touching. She had borne him a lovely boy: that must be abandoned too, if he left her; and somehow the birth of this child had embellished the mother; a delicious pink had taken the place of her rustic bloom; and her beauty was more refined and delicate. So pure, so loving, so fair, so maternal, to wound her heart now, it seemed like stabbing an angel.