om the main land by a deep
chasm about thirty feet wide, over which there was then a broken bridge
which had once been a drawbridge. It was a huge, grim ruin with only a
few roofed rooms, built in about the thirteenth century originally, and
of course added to and modernized. The house actually standing within
the great towers is of the date of Louis XIV. It stood there, a dark
mass, defying the storm, although the huge waves splashed right up to
the windows."

"It sounds repellent."

"It was--fierce and grim and repellent, and it suited my mood--so I
stopped at the Inn, my old maid Simone and I, and I got permission to go
and see it. The landlord of the Inn had the keys. The last of the
Heronacs drank himself to death with absinthe in Paris, so the place was
closed, and was no doubt for sale. '_Mais oui!_' he told us. Simone was
terrified to cross the wretched bridge, with the water swirling beneath,
and we left her to go back to the Inn, while the landlord's son came
with me. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, and was a most
extraordinary day, for now it began to thunder and lighten."

"I wonder you were not afraid."

"I am never afraid--I tell you, it suited me. There was still some
furniture in the roofed part of the inner court, and in the two great
towers which flank the main building--but in that the roof was off, but
the view from the windows when we crept along to them across the broken
floor was too superb, straight out to the ocean, the waves thundering at
the base. I made up my mind that night I would buy it if I could--and,
as I told you before, I did so in the following week."

"How quaint of you!"

"It has been the greatest delight to me, and, as you will see, I have
done something with it. I restored the center, and have made its
arrangements modern and comfortable, but have left that one huge room on
the first floor as it was, only with the roof mended. I spend hours and
hours in the deep window embrasures looking right over the sea. It has
taught me more of the meaning of things than all my books."

"You speak as though you were an old woman," Lord Fordyce exclaimed,
"and you look only a mere child now--then, when you bought this
brigand's stronghold, you must have been in the nursery!"

"I was over eighteen!"

"A colossal age! it was simply ridiculous for you to be wanting dark
castles and solitude. What--?" and then he paused; he did not continue
his question.

"I was really ver