At last the "Packhorse" came in sight. He drew rein, and had half a mind to turn back; but, instead of that, he crawled on, and very sick and cold he felt.
Many a man has marched to the scaffold with a less quaking heart than he to the "Packhorse."
His dejection contrasted strangely with the warm reception he met from everybody there. And the house was full of women; and they seemed, somehow, all cock-a-hoop, and filled with admiration of him.
"Where is she?" said he, faintly.
"Hark to the poor soul!" said a gossip. "Dame Vint, where's thy daughter? gone out a-walking be-like?"
At this, the other women present chuckled and clucked.
"I'll bring you to her," said Mrs. Vint; "but prithee be quiet and reasonable; for to be sure she is none too strong."
There was some little preparation, and then Griffith was ushered into Mercy's room, and found her in bed, looking a little pale, but sweeter and comelier than ever. She had the bedclothes up to her chin.
"You look wan, my poor lass," said he; "what ails ye?"
"Naught ails me now thou art come," said she, lovingly.