"And where is that? not in Cumberland?"
"Nay, in Lancashire, your worship. Why, whence come you that know not the 'Packhorse,' nor yet Allerton township? Come you from Cumberland?"
"No matter whence I come. I'm going on board ship,—like my father before me."
"Alas, sir, you are not fit; you have been very ill, and partly distraught."
She stopped; for Griffith turned his face to the wall, with a deep groan. It had all rushed over him in a moment.
Mercy stood still, and worked on, but the water gathered in her eyes at that eloquent groan.
By and by Griffith turned round again, with a face of anguish, and filmy eyes, and saw her in the same place, standing, working, and pitying.
"What, are you there still?" said he, roughly.
"Ay, sir; but I'll go, sooner than be troublesome. Can I fetch you anything?"
"No. Ay, wine; bring me wine to drown it all."