d, that ye trust yourself now, ay and me to,
poor body that deserve better of you, to a parcel of loons on a wild
voyage like this? Are ye fool enough to expect any good of such as
they? Was not I myself served thus when I was a fresh young maid like
you? Innocent indeed! I fancy I can see the ship they talk of, and the
hills of old Tirconnell! Take my word, 'tis a trap to lead ye back to
London, girl, and no more. And then, you had better have gone west with
the Captain, than east with these smooth-faced schemers."

Thus she complained, and the maiden soothed her as best she could, and
composed her gently to rest. Amongst us, we made the poor body a bed on
the floor of the boat, where she might at least lay her limbs at ease.

For an hour or more she broke fitfully into murmurs and complaints, but
presently, as we neared Chiswick, sleep came to her help and ours.

After that, the night seemed to me like a dream. The serving man lay
snoring in the prow, and only we three sat up to feast on the beauty of
the night. The moon rode high above our heads, changing the river into
a silver band, and deepening the mysterious shadows of the crowding
woods on either bank. Not a sound was heard but the regular plash of
our blades; naught moved but our gliding boat, and the silent water
which bore us. Ludar, lugging steadily at his oar, spoke not a word.
Yet I knew, though I was at his back, where his eyes rested, and what
was the big content in his heart. As for me, lulled by music of our
oars, and entranced by the balmy brightness of the night, I forgot my
great sorrow, and with my eyes on naught but one fair face, felt a
strange peace. Nor I think was she, as she sat there, erect, in the
stern, her form clear cut against the silver water behind, indifferent
to the restfulness of the scene. Her eyes, gazing far away, seemed to
gather in them the wandering rays of the moon; and when presently,
scarce heeding, perhaps, what she did, she broke into a soft murmuring
chant, which rose and fell with the cadence of our oars, I, at least,
felt the bewitchment complete.

Little dreamed any of us how soon the peace of that brief voyage was to
be broken.

When the midsummer dawn chased the moonbeams from off the water, we had
reached Battersea, on a fast failing tide. Before we reached Lambeth,
the stream was turning against us; and it needed all the strength of our
arms after that to make headway. Yet how could we tire?