by my
flight or by my death."

"I promise," said Mary, with drooping head; the embodiment of despair;
all life and hope having left her again.

After a few minutes her face brightened, and she asked Brandon what
ship he would sail in for New Spain, and whence.

"We sail in the Royal Hind, from Bristol," he replied.

"How many go out in her; and are there any women?"

"No! no!" he returned; "no woman could make the trip, and, besides, on
ships of that sort, half pirate, half merchant, they do not take
women. The sailors are superstitious about it and will not sail with
them. They say they bring bad luck--adverse winds, calms, storms,
blackness, monsters from the deep and victorious foes."

"The ignorant creatures!" cried Mary.

Brandon continued: "There will be a hundred men, if the captain can
induce so many to enlist."

"How does one procure passage?" inquired Mary.

"By enlisting with the captain, a man named Bradhurst, at Bristol,
where the ship is now lying. There is where I enlisted by letter. But
why do you ask?"

"Oh! I only wanted to know."

We talked awhile on various topics, but Mary always brought the
conversation back to the same subject, the Royal Hind and New Spain.
After asking many questions, she sat in silence for a time, and then
abruptly broke into one of my sentences--she was always interrupting
me as if I were a parrot.

"I have been thinking and have made up my mind what I will do, and you
shall not dissuade me. I will go to New Spain with you. That will be
glorious--far better than the humdrum life of sitting at home--and
will solve the whole question."

"But that would be impossible, Mary," said Brandon, into whose face
this new evidence of her regard had brought a brightening look;
"utterly impossible. To begin with, no woman could stand the voyage;
not even you, strong and vigorous as you are."

"Oh, yes I can, and I will not allow you to stop me for that reason. I
could bear any hardship better than the torture of the last few weeks.
In truth, I cannot bear this at all; it is killing me, so what would
it be when you are gone and I am the wife of Louis? Think of that,
Charles Brandon; think of that, when I am the wife of Louis. Even if
the voyage kills me, I might as well die one way as another; and then
I should be with you, where it were sweet to die." And I had to sit
there and listen to all this foolish talk!

Brandon insisted: "But no women are going; as I told you, th