"Why not? I begin to think he has wronged you almost as much as he has me."
"Worse, madam; worse. He has robbed me of my good name. You are still his lawful wife, and none can point the finger at you. But, look at me: I was an honest girl; respected by all the parish. What has he made of me? The man that lay a dying in my house, and I saved his life, and so my heart did warm to him, he blasphemed God's altar, to deceive and betray me; and here I am, a poor forlorn creature, neither maid, wife, nor widow; with a child on my arms that I do nothing but cry over; ay, my poor innocent, I left thee down below, because I was ashamed she should see thee; all me! ah me!" She lifted up her voice, and wept.
Mrs. Gaunt looked at her wistfully; and, like Mercy before her, had a bitter struggle with human nature; a struggle so sharp that, in the midst of it, she burst, out crying with strange violence: but, with that burst, her great soul conquered.
She darted out of the room, leaving Mercy astonished at her abrupt departure.
Mercy was patiently drying her eyes, when the door opened, and judge her surprise when she saw Mrs. Gaunt glide into the room with her little boy asleep in her arms, and an expression upon her face more sublime than anything Mercy Vint had ever yet seen on earth. She kissed the babe softly, and, becoming infantine as well as angelic by this contact, sat herself down in a moment on the floor with him, and held out her hand to Mercy. "There," said she, "come sit beside us; and see how I hate him; no more than you do—sweet innocent."
They looked him all over, discussed his every feature learnedly, kissed his limbs and extremities after the manner of their sex, and comprehending at last that to have been both of them wronged by one man was a bond of sympathy, not hate, the two wives of Griffith Gaunt laid his child across their two laps, and wept over him together.
Mercy Vint took herself to task. "I am but a selfish woman," said she, "to talk, or think of anything but that I came here for." She then proceeded to show Mrs. Gaunt by what means she proposed to secure her acquittal, without getting Griffith Gaunt into trouble.
Mrs. Gaunt listened with keen and grateful attention, until she came to that part: then she interrupted her eagerly.
"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."