no longer on
me, and I battled onward with wind and snow for a long way. Thanks
to the wind, the track was kept clear of the snow, and I did not
lose it again until it led me to help that was unlooked for.

There came the sound of a bell to me, strange sounding indeed, but
a bell nevertheless, and I knew that somewhere close at hand was
surely some home of monks who would take me in with all kindness.
And presently the track led me nearer to the sound of the sea, and
at last bent sharply to the right and began to go downhill, while
the sound of the bell grew plainer above the roar of nearer
breakers yet. I felt that I was passing down such a gorge as that
up which I had come from the boat, but far narrower, for I had not
gone far before I could touch the rocky walls with either hand.
Then I came to steps, and they were steep, but below me still
sounded the bell, and the hoarse breakers were very near at hand. I
expected to see the lights of some little fishing village every
moment, but the wind that rushed up the narrow space between the
cliff walls and brought the salt spray with it almost blinded me.

Suddenly the stairway turned so sharply that I almost fell, and
then I found my way downward barred by what seemed a great
rough-faced rock that was right across the gorge, if one may call a
mere cleft in the cliffs so, and barred my way, while the strange
bell sounded from beyond it. But it was sheltered under this
barrier, and I felt along it to find out where I had to climb over,
thinking that the stairway must lead up its face. But there was no
stair, and as I groped my hand came on cut stone, and when I felt
it I knew that I had come to a doorway, for I found the woodwork,
but in no way could I find how it opened.

I kicked on it, therefore, and shouted, but it seemed that none
heard. The bell went on and then stopped, and I thought I heard
footsteps on the far side of the barrier. They came nearer, and
then were almost at the door, paused for a moment, and then the
door was opened and the red light from a fire flashed out on me,
showing the tall form of a man in monk's dress in its opening.

"Come in, my son," said a grave voice, speaking Welsh, that had no
wonder in it, though one could hardly have expected to see an armed
and gold-bedecked Saxon here in the storm.

I stumbled into what I had thought a rock, and found when my eyes
grew used to the light that I was in a house built of great stones,
uncemente