Mercy. Nay, sir, I ask naught for telling the truth.
Whitworth. You were in the prisoner's company yesterday?
Mercy. Yes, sir, I visited her in the jail last night.
Whitworth. And there concerted this ingenious defence?
Mercy. Well, sir, for that matter, I told her that her man was alive, and I did offer to be her witness.
Whitworth. For naught?
Mercy. For no money or reward, if 't is that you mean. Why, 't is a joy beyond money to clear an innocent body, and save her life; and that satisfaction is mine this day.
Whitworth (sarcastically). These are very fine sentiments for a person in your condition. Confess that Mrs. Gaunt primed you with all that.
Mercy. Nay, sir, I left home in that mind; else I had not come at all. Bethink you; 't is a long journey for one in my way of life; and this dear child on my arm all the way.
Mrs. Gaunt sat boiling with indignation. But Mercy's good temper and meekness parried the attack that time. Mr. Whitworth changed his line.