“If you come in God’s name, come in.”  At this the women were stunned, for this kind of language they used not to hear or to perceive to drop from the lips of Christiana.  Yet they came in; but, behold, they found the good woman preparing to be gone from her house.  The conversation that ensued was all carried on by the two elder women.  For it was often remarked about Mercy all her after-days that her voice was ever soft, and low, and, especially, seldom heard.  But her ears were not idle.  For all the time the debate went on—­because by this time the conversation had risen to be a debate—­Mercy was taking silent sides with Christiana and her distress and her intended enterprise, till, when Mrs. Timorous reviled Christiana and said, “Come away, Mercy, and leave her in her own hands,” Mercy by that time was brought to a standstill.  For, like a rose among thorns, Mercy was thoughtful and wise and womanly far beyond her years.  So much so, that already she had made up her mind to offer herself as a maidservant to help the widow with her work and to see her so far on her way, and, indeed, though she kept that to herself, to go all the way with her, if the way should prove open to her.  First, her heart yearned over Christiana; so she said within herself, If my neighbour will needs be gone, I will go a little way with her to help her.  Secondly, her heart yearned over her own soul’s salvation, for what Christiana had said had taken some hold upon Mercy’s mind.  Wherefore she said within herself, I will yet have more talk with this Christiana, and if I find truth and life in what she shall say, myself with all my heart shall also go with her.  “Neighbour,” spoke out Mercy to Mrs. Timorous, “I did indeed come with you to see Christiana this morning, and since she is, as you see, a-taking of her last farewell of her country, I think to walk this sunshine morning a little way with her to help her on the way.”  But she told her not of her second reason, but kept that to herself.  I would fain go on with Mercy’s memoirs all night.  But you will take up that inviting thread for yourselves.  And meantime I shall stop here and gather up under two or three heads some of the more memorable results and lessons of that sunshine-morning call.

1.  Well, then, to begin with, there was something quite queen-like, something absolutely commanding, about Christiana’s look and manner, as well as about all she said and did that morning.  Mercy’s morning companion had all the advantages that dress and equipage could give her; while Christiana stood in the middle of the floor in her housewife’s clothes, covered with dust and surrounded with all her dismantled house; but, with all that, there was something about Christiana that took Mercy’s heart completely captive.  All that Christiana had by this time come through had blanched her cheek and whitened her hair:  but all that only the more commanded Mercy’s sensitive and noble soul.  To be open to impressions of that kind is one of