seems to me as if we were parting for ever."

"Why, then," returns he, laughing, "we will not part at all. You shall
come with me, chuck. What should prevent you?"

She starts with joy at this, then looks at him incredulous for a moment,
and so her countenance falling again, she shakes her head as thinking, I
take it, that if it were advisable she should go with him, he would have
proposed it before.

"No," says she, "'twas an idle fancy, and I'll not yield to it. I shall
become a burden, rather than a helpmate, if you cannot stir from home
without me. Nay," adds she, when he would override this objection, "you
must not tempt me to be weak, but rather aid me to do that which I feel
right."

And she would not be persuaded from this resolution, but bore herself
most bravely, even to the moment when she and her husband clasped each
for the last time in a farewell embrace.

She stood where he had left her for some moments after he was gone.
Suddenly she ran a few paces with parted lips and outstretched hands, as
if she would call him back; then, as sharply she halts, clasping her
hands, and so presently turns back, looking across her shoulder, with
such terror in her white face, that I do think her strong imagination
figured some accusing spirits, threatening the end of all her joys.

I followed her into the house, but there I learnt from Mrs. Butterby
that her mistress was gone to her own chamber.

As I was sitting in my office in the afternoon, Jack Dawson came to me
in his seaman's dress, his hand still wrapped up, but his face more
healthful for his long ride and cheerful thoughts.

"Why, this could not have fallen out better," says I, when we had
exchanged greetings; "for Moll is all alone, and down in the dumps by
reason of her husband having left her this morning on business, that
will hold him absent for three or four days. We will go up presently and
have supper with her."

"No, Kit," says he, very resolutely, "I'll not. I am resolved I won't go
there till to-morrow, for this is no hour to be a-calling on ladies, and
her husband being away 'twill look as if we had ordered it of purpose.
Besides, if Moll's in trouble, how am I to pretend I know nothing of the
matter and care less, and this Mother Butterby and a parcel of sly,
observant servants about to surprise one at any moment? Say no
more--'tis useless--for I won't be persuaded against my judgment."

"As you will," says I.

"There's another reason,