"This lake, I verily think, follows us; or we are stuck to its side like a lady's bauble."
"And no living thing to say 'Good-bye,' were it fish or woman."
"Or mermaid, which is both." Scarcely were the words uttered when Harrington pointed to the water.
"Something dark comes upon that burning track left on the surface by the sun's chariot wheels."
"A fishmonger's skiff belike," said Sir Ralph.
They plunged through the deep sandy drifts towards the brink, hastening to greet the first appearance of life which they had found in this region of solitude. At a distance they saw a female floating securely, and apparently without effort, upon the rippling current. Her form was raised half-way above the water, and her long hair hung far below her shoulders. This she threw back at times from her forehead, smoothing it down with great dexterity. She seemed to glide on slowly, and without support; yet the distance prevented any very minute observation.
"A bold swimmer, o' my troth!" said Molyneux; "her body tapers to a fish's tail, no doubt, or my senses have lost their use."
Harrington was silent, looking thoughtful and mysterious.
"I'll speak to yon sea-wench."
"For mercy's sake, hold thy tongue. If, as I suspect—and there be such things, 'tis said, in God's creation—thou wilt"——