s if
'twas a happy notion that had come to me in my sleep, and do you back me
up with all the spirit you can muster."

So after some further discussion we rose, and returned to our posada,
where we found Moll waiting for us. She told us she had found no clothes
to her liking (which was significant), and said not a word of her
speaking to the Moors in the market-place, so we held our peace on these
matters.

We did not part till late that night, for Moll would sit up with us,
confessing she felt too feverish for sleep; and indeed this was apparent
enough by her strange humour, for she kept no constant mood for five
minutes together. Now, she would sit pensive, paying no heed to us, with
a dreamy look in her eyes, as if her thoughts were wandering far
away--to her husband in England maybe; then she would hang her head as
though she dared not look him in the face even at that distance; and
anon she would recover herself with a noble exaltation, lifting her head
with a fearless mien. And so presently her body drooping gradually to a
reflective posture, she falls dreaming again, to rouse herself suddenly
at some new prompting of her spirit, and give us all her thoughts, all
eagerness for two moments, all melting sweetness the next, with her
pretty manner of clinging to her father's arm, and laying her cheek
against his shoulder. And when at last we came to say good-night, she
hangs about his neck as if she would fain sleep there, quitting him with
a deep sigh and a passionate kiss. Also she kissed me most
affectionately, but could say never a word of farewell to either of
us--hurrying to her chamber to weep, as I think.

We knew not what to conclude from these symptoms, save that she might be
sickening of some disorder; so we to our beds, very down in the mouth
and faint at heart.

About six the next morning I was awoke by the door bursting suddenly
open, and starting up in my bed, I see Dawson at my side, shaking in
every limb, and his eyes wide with terror.

"Moll's gone!" cries he, and falls a-blubbering.

"Gone!" says I, springing out of bed. "'Tis not possible."

"She has not lain in her bed; and one saw her go forth last night as the
doors were closing, knowing her for a foreigner by her hood. Come with
me," adds he, laying his hand on a chair for support. "I dare not go
alone."

"Aye, I'll go with ye, Jack; but whither?"

"Down to the sea," says he, hoarsely.

I stopped in the midst of dressing, overcome