ved when she
found herself clear of the houses and on the downs.

Far down on the left the sea glittered and sparkled in the brilliant
sunshine, the cliffs were of a dazzling whiteness against the bright blue
sky, and in front of her and on her right stretched an apparently
limitless extent of down lands. In the hollows nestled farms and small
hamlets surrounded by trees, which in that wind-swept region only grew in
those more sheltered situations. The air was most invigorating for, in
spite of the sunshine, a fresh breeze was blowing off the sea, and this
cooled the air, which otherwise might have been too hot to make the quick
rate at which Margaret was walking agreeable. Mrs. Danvers' directions
were easy to follow, for not only were there signposts to aid her, but
when she was only half-way down the long white road which, with many
curves, wound down to the shore, she could see the dip in the cliffs that
gave the name of Windy Gap to the little cove at their base, and also
trace the road that ran inland from it along the bottom of the valley to
the little village of the same name that, well sheltered by trees, lay in
the middle of it, a mile or more away from the cliff-line.

Recognising that there was then no need for her to follow the road as
far as The Cove, Margaret struck across the downs to her right in the
direction of the village, thus saving herself two sides of a triangle. A
little grey church with a squat tower, a little grey house that was
obviously the parsonage, a row of small cottages, a few isolated ones,
and a farm or two made up the village, and Margaret, after wandering up
and down the little main street wondering where Mrs. Murray's house was,
went into the one small general shop, which was also the post-office,
that the village boasted, to inquire. She was told to follow the road
for another few hundred yards, and then to take the first turning to the
left, which would lead her directly to Rose Cottage, which was the name
of Mrs. Murray's house, and to nowhere else.

Following these instructions, Margaret presently found herself climbing
a very steep, rough lane, that ended abruptly at a pair of wide gates.
These opened on to a short, winding drive, and without any hesitation
Margaret approached the house, intending to ring and ask boldly for Miss
Anstruther. And that would be the last time, she earnestly hoped and
believed, that she would be obliged to give her name as Miss Carson. The
decept