There was a tap on the door and a girl with towels entered.

"Can you ever see the Far Island from here?" I asked her.

"If it be clear enough, Miss."

As I washed and changed my blouse I was becoming more and more excited, for now I should learn something about my parents. All I knew was that they had been unhappy together because my mother had left my father. I had often wondered about him and pictured him as a sort of ogre. I believed then that this adventure was going to prove exactly what I needed to take me away from a past in which I could only grieve for Philip's death and suffer a certain remorse because I had not appreciated him enough when he was alive.

I did not unpack very much since I hoped I should be leaving the next day when the white horses had "gone to stable." I wondered whether Jago Kellaway would come to meet me and what he would be like. There had been a very warm welcome in his letter and I was growing very eager to meet him.

As I descended the stairs the savory smell of roasting pork made me feel hungry for the first time since Philip's death. There were no other guests in the dining room and, seeing that I had noticed this, Mrs. Pengelly explained that it was early yet. "We thought you'd be ready for it after traveling," she added.

I assured her that I was and I was sure that she was glad, as I was, that we were the only people in the dining room because that gave us an opportunity to talk.

"You must have known my mother very well," I began, determined to make the most of that opportunity.

"Oh yes, Miss Kellaway. You too, when you was a little 'un. You was a lively one, you was. 'Twas one body's work keeping you out of mischief."

"Why did my mother leave the Island?"

Mrs. Pengelly looked taken aback. "Well, my dear, that were for reasons best known to herself. Reckon her and your father didn't get along so well."

The innkeeper came into the room saying that he wanted to know how I was enjoying the meal and when I told him it was excellent, he rubbed his hands together and looked pleased; but I did intercept a look he gave his wife and I wondered whether he had come not only to assure himself of my satisfaction but to warn her against talking too much.

"If there's anything else you'm wanting," he began.

I told him there was nothing and his wife asked if I would like coffee and, when I said I would, she replied that it would be served in the inn parlor.

"I'll bring it to 'ee," she added, with, I thought, a promise to continue our conversation, but when she brought it and I tried to ask her more about my parents, she clamped her lips together as though she was not going to let them say what they would obviously have liked to, and I guessed her husband had warned her against indiscreet talk.

Was there something mysterious about the Island and its inhabitants? I wondered.

I finished my coffee and went up to my room, where I sat by the window looking out over the sea. It was a beautiful sight, for the moon had arisen and was throwing a pathway of silver light across the dark water. I fancied the sea was calmer than it had been on my arrival and that the wind was less persistently strong.

They'll come for me in the morning, I told myself.

The great feather bed in the cozy room was warm, but I could not sleep very well and when I did doze it was inevitable that I should have the dream. This time it was vague and shadowy. Again I stood in the room which I just recognized by the red curtains, but as the objects, with which I had become familiar over the years—the rocking chair, the picture, the brick fireplace, the gate-legged table and the rest—began to take shape, I awoke.

My feelings as I did so were not so much of apprehension, which was the usual reaction, as of excitement and a great desire to discover, as though I were at last on the verge of learning the meaning behind the mists of my dream. For a few seconds after waking I could not remember where I was and I got out of bed to stand at the window and gaze out to sea in the direction where I knew the Island to be. I realized that my dream had reflected my feelings to some extent, for I was indeed about to embark on a voyage of discovery.

In the early morning the wind had risen again and the waves were now pounding on the shore. I was dismayed. Yesterday's white horses had not returned to their stables; in fact, more had come out to join them.

I went down to breakfast. Mrs. Pengelly shook her head dolefully. "There be quite a sea on," she said. "There'll be no boat this morning."

I ate her freshly baked bread hot from the oven so that the butter melted into it as I spread it, and drank hot coffee from a brown earthenware mug. The day stretched before me, and I said I would stroll out to look at the town.

There was not a great deal of the town when one left the main street, just a few shops and houses and very little more. I noticed people looked at me curiously and supposed they were unused to visitors.

The post office was the general store and I decided that I would go in and buy some stamps, for I had promised to let Esmeralda know at the earliest possible moment how I had fared on my journey.

When I arrived on the Island I would write to her at length, giving her all those details which I knew she would relish, but that would be later and she would be longing to know something at once.

The postmistress and her husband, who was serving at another counter, looked up when I walked in. I smiled and said good morning, to which they replied cautiously. While she was getting the stamps the postmistress, recognizing me as a stranger, asked if I was visiting here.

"Yes," I replied, "although not on the mainland. I'm waiting for the sea to grow calm enough."

"So you be going to the Islands then?"

"Yes. My family have asked me to stay with them."

"And you've never been there before!"

"Actually I was born on the Far Island but I haven't been back since I was three."

"You can't be..."

"I'm Ellen Kellaway."

She stared at me in astonishment. "Well now," she said at length. "That be something!"

"You apparently know my family."

"Everyone do know the Kellaways. There's been Kellaways on the Far Island for hundreds of years, 'tis said."

"Mr. Jago Kellaway has invited me to stay. You know him, of course."

"Well, he be the Lord of the Island, as they do say."

I was aware that everyone in the shop was interested in me and it suddenly occurred to me that I had been talking too much and in a somewhat naive fashion, so I hastily paid for the stamps and went back to the inn, where I ate a cold luncheon of ham, cheese and fruit.

The long afternoon had begun and the sea had not changed for the better. The clouds were as lowering as they had been the day before and the waves, edged with white froth which the wind sent high into the air, were thundering on the sands.

I could not stay in, so I decided to walk again. I turned from the main street and went on towards the harbor. One or two little boats were tied up there. I read their names. Our Sally. Jennie. Gay Lass. Bold Adventurer. They danced on the water washing the quayside. I passed lobster pots, and a fisherman who was mending his nets looked at me curiously as I passed. I called a greeting. He mumbled a reply, and went on mending his nets. There was a big shed smelling of fish and in it was a great weighing machine. The fish market, I imagined, but silent and empty today. None of the little boats could go out. The gulls shrieked protestingly, it seemed, because of the lack of tidbits to which they would be accustomed when the catch came in.

I left the coast and took a winding path through some woods thinking of all that I was trying to forget. I found it so hard to shut out of my mind for any length of time the memory of Philip's face creased in laughter, gently mocking, but always ready to protect me; and as frequently I saw Rollo's accusing eyes. It was deeply wounding to know that he suspected me of having driven Philip to his death.

"Oh Philip," I said aloud, "I will never believe you did that. It is quite impossible; I know it is. But what happened?"

And there I was as close to the tragedy as I had been on the morning Rollo had come to tell me it had happened.

Because my thoughts had been far away in the past I had not noticed how deep into the woods I had penetrated and it occurred to me that I ought to retrace my steps and return to the inn, but I was in no great hurry to do this, as there was a lonely evening ahead of me.

I must not get lost, however, so I did turn and, as I thought, went back the way I had come, expecting I should shortly arrive at the spot where the trees grew less closely together and glimpse the sea again. But I did not and very soon I had lost all sense of direction and realized with dismay that I was lost.

I assured myself that I must eventually come out to the sea, but after I had walked for half an hour I was still in the woods. At last I came to a gate and hopefully opened it and passed through. Here the trees grew less thick and I thought that if I went on I might come to a house and ask the way.

As I entered a clearing I heard the sound of horse's hoofs and a rider came into sight. It was a man on a gray horse and he hurriedly pulled up at the sight of me.

"Can you help me?" I asked. "I'm lost."

"You are in fact trespassing," he replied. "These woods are private because of the pheasants."

"Oh dear, I am sorry. I was really trying to find my way out of them."

"Where do you want to go?" he asked.

"I'm staying at the Polcrag Inn."

"You have come a long way."

"Longer than I realized, I'm afraid."

"The easiest way now is past the house. Actually that is even more private, but it's a shortcut."

"Do you think the owner would mind?"

"I'm sure he wouldn't," he said with a smile. "As a matter of fact, I don't and it's my house. I'm Michael Hydrock."

"Then these are your woods. I must apologize."

"Oh, strangers often stray in. It's so easy to slip into the private section. We should have more notices put up."

"If you will kindly show me the way I should be grateful."

"I will with pleasure."

I took a step forward and as I did so tripped over an old beech trunk and fell sprawling onto the grass.

He immediately sprang from his horse and helped me up. I noticed what a pleasant face he had, it was comforting to see that he looked really concerned.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"I don't think so." I stood up. Then I touched my ankle.

"You can stand on it, I see. Can you walk?"

"Yes. I think so."

"It might be painful later. You certainly can't walk all the way back. I tell you what we'll do. We're close to the house. We'll go in and see how badly hurt you are and I could send you to the inn in a carriage."

"This is too kind."

"Not at all. I'll help you onto my horse and I can walk it back," he said.

"That's quite unnecessary. I'm sure I can hobble."

"You might do some harm if you did," he insisted quietly.

"But I'm being such a nuisance. First I trespass and then you have to give up your horse for me."

"It's the least I can do," said the man.'

He helped me onto his horse and, walking beside it, led it forward.

There is one thing I shall never forget—my first glimpse of Hydrock Manor House. We had come out of the wood and there before us it stood—this gray stone dwelling with its embattled gatehouse and the pointed arch at the entrance, the spandrels of the doorway decorated with Gothic patterns. On the smoothest and greenest of lawns I believed I had ever seen strutted a gorgeous peacock, brilliant and disdainful, followed admiringly by his comparatively drab little mate.

I experienced a deep sense of peace such as I had never known before. Places had always affected me deeply. For no reason I felt suddenly happy to be there in spite of the fact that I had hurt my ankle and was dependent on the kindness of a stranger.

There was a gravel path cutting across the lawn to the archway and we went along this and through the arch into a courtyard. Here, too, the sense of deep peace prevailed. Little tufts of grass grew between the cobbles, onto which latticed windows looked out.