agreed to be my guest for the night, regarding me as one of his own quality.  We stayed to sup at the Court, where he entertained us with a lengthy account of his late voyage, and how being taken in a tempest, his masts had all been swept by the board, and his craft so damaged that ’twas as much as she would hold together till he brought her into Falmouth, where she must lie a-repairing a good two months ere he could again venture to sea in her.  And this story he told with such an abundance of detail and so many nautical particulars, that no one in the world could have dreamt he was lying.

He explained to me later on that he had refused to lie at the Court, for fear a glass or two after supper might lead his tongue astray, telling me that he had touched nothing but penny ale all his long journey from London, for fear of losing his head; and on my asking why he had fabricated that long history of shipwreck he vowed I had put him to it by saying I had a house of my own where he could lie; “For,” says he, “my ship being laid up will furnish me with a very good excuse for coming to spend a day or two with you now and then.  So may I get another glimpse of my own dear Moll, and see her in the fulness of her joy.”

He could not sufficiently cry up the excellence of Mr. Godwin, his noble bearing, his frank, honest countenance, his tenderness for Moll, etc., and he did truly shed tears of gratitude to think that now, whatever befell him, her welfare and happiness were assured; but this was when he had emptied his bottle and had got to that stage of emotion which usually preceded boisterous hilarity when he was in his cups.

And whilst I am speaking of bottles, it will not be amiss to note here, for my future warning, a grave imprudence of mine, which I discovered on leaving the room to seek more wine.  On the flame of my candle blowing aside, I perceived that I had left my door unfastened, so that it now stood ajar.  And, truly, this was as culpable a piece of oversight as I could well have committed; for here, had an enemy, or even an idle busybody, been passing, he might very well have entered the little passage and overheard that which had been our undoing to have made known.

CHAPTER XXVI.

How Moll Dawson was married to Mr. Richard Godwin; brief account of attendant circumstances.

December 14. Dawson left us this morning.  In parting, Mr. Godwin graciously begged him to come to his wedding feast on Christmas day,—­they having fixed upon Christmas eve to be married,—­and Dawson promised he would; but he did assure me afterwards, as we were walking along the road to meet the stage waggon, that he would certainly feign some reason for not coming.  “For,” says he, “I am not so foolhardy as to jeopardise my Moll’s happiness for the pleasure this feast would give me.  Nay, Kit, I do think ’twould break my heart indeed, if anything of my doing should mar my Moll’s