"O, yes, she does. 'Tis not in nature she should do any other."
"Her acts prove the contrary."
"Her acts! She has _done_ nothing, but make fair promises; and that has
blinded you. Women of this sort are very cunning, and never show their
real characters to a man. No more; prithee mention not her name to me.
It makes me ill. I know he is with her at this moment Ah, let me die,
and be forgotten, since I am no more beloved."
The voice was sad and weary now, and the tears ran fast.
Poor Sir George was moved and melted, and set himself to flatter and
console this impracticable lady, who hated her best friend in this sore
strait, for being what she was herself, a woman; and was much less
annoyed at being hanged than at not being loved.
When she was a little calmer, he left her, and rode off to Houseman.
That worthy was delighted.
"Get her to swear to those hobnailed shoes," said he, "and we shall
shake them." He then let Sir George know that he had obtained private
information which he would use in cross-examining a principal witness
for the crown. "However," he added, "do not deceive yourself, nothing
can make the prisoner really safe but the appearance of Griffith Gaunt.
He has such strong motives for coming to light. He is heir to a fortune,
and his wife is accused of murdering him. The jury will never believe he
is alive till they see him. That man's prolonged disappearance is
hideous. It turns my blood cold when I think of it."
"Do not despair on that score," said Neville. "I believe our good angel
will produce him."
Three days only before the assizes, came the long-expected letter from
Mercy Vint. Sir George tore it open, but bitter was his disappointment.
The letter merely said that Griffith had not appeared in answer to her
advertisements, and she was sore grieved and perplexed.
There were two postscripts, each on a little piece of paper.