with our advice in
such matters."

After a moment's reflection, Moll agreed to this, and saying she would
meet us at the posada for supper, left us, and walked briskly back the
way we had come.

When she was gone, Dawson had never a word to say, nor I either, for
dejection, yet, had I been questioned, I could have found no better
reason for my despondency than that I felt 'twas all a mistake coming
here for happiness.

Strolling aimlessly through the narrow back ways, we came presently to
the market that stands against the port. And here, almost at the first
step, Dawson catches my arm and nods towards the opposite side of the
market-place. Some Moors were seated there in their white clothes, with
bundles of young palm leaves, plaited up in various forms of crowns,
crosses, and the like,--which the people of this country do carry to
church to be blessed on Palm Sunday; and these Moors I knew came from
Elche, because palms grow nowhere else in such abundance.

"Yes," says I, thinking 'twas this queer merchandise he would point out,
"I noticed these Moors and their ware when we passed here a little while
back with Moll."

"Don't you see her there now--at the corner?" asks he.

Then, to my surprise, I perceived Moll in very earnest conversation with
two Moors, who had at first screened her from my sight.

"Come away," continues he. "She left us to go back and speak to them,
and would not have us know."

Why should she be secret about this trifling matter, I asked myself.
'Twas quite natural that, if she recognised in these Moors some old
acquaintance of Elche, she should desire to speak them.

We stole away to the port; and seating ourselves upon some timber, there
we looked upon the sea nigh upon half an hour without saying a word.
Then turning to me, Dawson says: "Unless she speak to us upon this
matter, Kit, we will say nought to her. But, if she say nothing, I shall
take it for a sign her heart is set upon going back to Elche, and she
would have it a secret that we may not be disheartened in our other
project."

"That is likely enough," says I, not a little surprised by his
reasoning. But love sharpens a man's wit, be it never so dull.

"Nevertheless," continues he, "if she can be happier at Elche than
elsewhere, then must we abandon our scheme and accept hers with a good
show of content. We owe her that, Kit."

"Aye, and more," says I.

"Then when we meet to-morrow morning, I will offer to go there, a