He
was told to go to the beach, and he would see it. He did so, leaving his
sea-chest behind him, and there, about two hundred paces from the land,
and built upon a solitary mountain of rock, measuring half a mile or
so round the base, he perceived a vast mediaeval pile of fortified
buildings, with turrets towering three hundred feet into the air, and
edged with fire by the setting sun. He gazed on it with perplexity.
Could it be that this enormous island fortress belonged to him, and, if
so, how on earth did one get to it? For some little time he walked
up and down, wondering, too shy to go to the village for information.
Meanwhile, though he did not notice her, a well-grown girl of about
fifteen, remarkable for her great grey eyes and the promise of her
beauty, was watching his evident perplexity from a seat beneath a rock,
not without amusement. At last she rose, and, with the confidence of
bold fifteen, walked straight up to him.
"Do you want to get the Castle, sir?" she asked in a low sweet voice,
the echoes of which Owen Davies never forgot.
"Yes--oh, I beg your pardon," for now for the first time he saw that he
was talking to a young lady.
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