by this fearful hint; for,
knowing Moll's strong nature, the thought had never occurred to me that
she might do away with herself. Yet now reflecting on her strange manner
of late, especially her parting with us overnight, it seemed not so
impossible neither. For here, seeing the folly of our coming hither,
desponding of any happiness in the future, was the speediest way of
ending a life that was burdensome to herself and a constant sorrow to
us. Nay, with her notions of poetic justice drawn from plays, she may
have regarded this as the only atonement she could make her husband; the
only means of giving him back freedom to make a happier choice in
marriage. With these conclusions taking shape, I shuffled on my clothes,
and then, with shaking fear, we two, hanging to each other's arms for
strength, made our way through the crooked streets to the sea; and
there, seeing a group of men and women gathered at the water's edge some
little distance from us, we dared not go further, conceiving 'twas a
dead body they were regarding. But 'twas only a company of fishers
examining their haul of fishes, as we presently perceived. So, somewhat
cheered, we cast our eyes to the right and left, and, seeing nothing to
justify our fears, advanced along the mole to the very end, where it
juts out into the sea, with great stones around to break the surf. Here,
then, with deadly apprehensions, we peered amongst the rocks, holding
our breath, clutching tight hold of one another by the hand, in terror
of finding that we so eagerly searched,--a hood, a woman's skirt
clinging to the stones, a stiffened hand thrust up from the lapping
waters. Never may I forget the sickening horror of the moment when,
creeping out amidst the rocks, Dawson twitches my hand, and points down
through the clear water to something lying white at the bottom. It
looked for all the world like a dead face, coloured a greenish white by
the water; but presently we saw, by one end curling over in the swell of
a wave, that 'twas only a rag of paper.

Then I persuaded Dawson to give up this horrid search, and return to our
posada, when, if we found not Moll, we might more justly conclude she
had gone to Elche, than put an end to her life; and though we could
learn nothing of her at our inn, more than Dawson had already told me,
yet our hopes were strengthened in the probability of finding her at
Elche by recollecting her earnest, secret conversation with the Moors,
who might cer