ed against a sloping bank and watched the
ocean below. When he saw Mona he threw the weed away and sprung to his
feet.

"I'm very glad you came, Miss Hutton," he said, raising his hat, "yet I
did not dare hope you would," and then extending one hand to take the
bag and the other to assist her, he added, "It's a risky place to come
down into, and you had best let me assist you."

"I'll go first," she replied quickly, "for I know the way and can go
alone, and you can follow me."

And follow her he had to, but not easily, for with steps as fearless and
leaps as graceful as an antelope, she led the way down into the chaos of
boulders and then up through them, until she paused in a sheltering
embrasure.

When Winn reached her side he was out of breath, and as he handed her
the bag and looked about, he was almost speechless at the wild, rocky
grandeur of the spot. And well he might be, for seldom had he seen one
like it. He had looked down into the gorge from above, but now he was in
a half-circular, wide-open cave the size of a small room, far below
where he had stood, and looking out upon cliff-like walls down to where
the ocean waves were beating.

"And so this is the Devil's Oven," he said when he had looked all about,
and finally at Mona seated upon a jutting ledge and watching him. "I
think it a shame to have given such a hideous name to a place so grand
and picturesque. Rather should it have been called the Mermaid's Grotto.
I dislike this idea of naming all the beautiful bits of natural scenery
after his satanship. It's not fair." Then seating himself as far away
from Mona as possible he added gently, "Now, Miss Hutton, I am ready for
my treat. Please don't think or feel that I am here, but play to
yourself and for yourself, just as you did the day I first heard you."

And Mona, charmed a little by his gentle, courteous ways and speech, and
her sense of fear lulled by his entirely respectful manner, drew her
violin from its case.

It may have been the spot that inspired her, or the tender admiration
she saw in his eyes, or a little of both, but from the first moment she
drew the bow across the strings of her violin, a wondrous sweetness and
feeling graced her playing, and strange to say, all the melodies she
rendered bore the Scotch flavor. Most of them had been heard by Winn at
one time or another, but never played upon an instrument that seemed so
sweet or with such an exquisite touch as now. When "Bonnie Du