"And pray who told you?" he asks.
"No one, father, since you forbade me to ask questions. But though I may be dumb to oblige you, I can't be deaf. Kit and you are for ever a-talking of it."
"Maybe, child," says Dawson, mightily nettled. "Maybe you know why we left Alicante this morning."
"I should be dull indeed if I didn't," answers she. "And if you hadn't said when we saw the ships that we might meet more Englishmen in the town than we might care to know hereafter, why,--well, maybe we should have been in Alicante now." "By denying yourself that satisfaction," says Don Sanchez, "we may conclude that the future we are making for you is not unacceptable."
Moll stopped and says with some passion:
"I would turn back now and go over those mountains the way we came to ride through France in my fine gown like a lady."
"Brava! bravamente!" says the Don, in a low voice, as she steps on in front of us, holding her head high with the recollection of her former state.
"She was ever like that," whispers Dawson, with pride. "We could never get her to play a mean part willingly; could we, Kit? She was for ever wanting the part of a queen writ for her."
The next day about sundown, coming to a little eminence, Don Sanchez points out a dark patch of forest lying betwixt us and the mountains, and says:
"That is Elche, the place where we are to stay some months."