"Why! of course not; why do you ask such a dreadful question?"
"Because, if you wish to make sure of it, do what you have just said—go to the king and tell him all. I doubt if he could wait till morning. I believe he would awaken me at midnight to put me to sleep forever—at the end of a rope or on a block pillow."
"Oh! no! you are all wrong; I know what I can do with Henry."
"If that is the case, I say good-bye now, for I shall be out of England, if possible, by midnight. You must promise me that you will not only not go to the king at all about this matter, but that you will guard your tongue, jealous of its slightest word, and remember with every breath that on your prudence hangs my life, which, I know, is dear to you. Do you promise? If you do not, I must fly; so you will lose me one way or the other, if you tell the king; either 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.