But Father roused himself from his apathy. It had been her wish that I should complete my education at the Damenstift and should stay there until I was eighteen years old.

So I went back and I often thought that if the aunts had had their way that strange adventure would never have taken place.

It happened two years after my mother’s death. I had forgotten so much of life in Oxford and only rarely did I think of walking down the Cornmarket to Folly Bridge and St. Aldate’s, of the castellated walls of colleges; of the hollow silence of the Cathedral and the fascination of the Murder of St. Thomas a Becket in stained glass in the east window. But the reality was the convent life, the secrets shared with girls as we lay in our cell-like dormitory where a thick stone buttress divided one cell from another.

And so there came that early autumn after which nothing would be the same again.

I was nearly eighteen perhaps young for my years. I was frivolous yet in a way dreamily romantic. I have no one but myself to blame for what happened.

The most gentle of the sisters was Maria. She should have been a mother of children; perhaps she would have been overindulgent, but how happy she would have been and would they! But she was a virgin nun and had to content herself with us.

She understood me more than any of the others. She knew that I did not wish to be wayward; I was high-spirited; I was impulsive; my sin was thoughtlessness rather than wilfulness. I know she had constantly explained this to the Mutter.

It was October-and we were enjoying an Indian summer, for the autumn was long coming that year. It was a pity to waste the golden days, said Schwester Maria, and she was going to choose twelve girls whose conduct warranted the privilege to accompany her on a picnic. We could take the wagonette and go up to the plateau; and there we would make a fire and boil a part of water and make coffee and Schwester Gretchen had said she would bake a few of her spiced cakes as a special treat.

She chose me to be among the favoured twelve rather in the hope that I might mend my ways than because of past good conduct, I was sure; but whatever the reason I was in the party on that fateful day. Schwester Maria drove the wagonette as I had seen her so many times before, looking like a big black crow in her flapping black robes, sitting there holding in the horse with a masterly touch which was surprising.

Poor old horse, he would have known the road blindfolded, so it did not really need very much skill to lead him there. During his lifetime, he must have taken the wagonette full of girls up to the plateau many times.

So we arrived; we made the fire (so useful for the girls to learn these things); we boiled the water, made the coffee and ate the spiced cakes. We washed the cups in the nearby stream and packed them away; we wandered around until Schwester Maria clapped her hands to call us to her. We were leaving in half an hour, she told us, and we must all assemble at that time. We knew what this meant. Schwester Maria was going to lean against the tree under which she was sitting and for half an hour take a well-earned nap.

And so she did while we wandered off, and the feeling of excitement which being in the pine forests always gave me began to creep over me.

In such a setting Hansel and Gretel were lost and came upon their gingerbread house; in such a wood the lost. babes had wandered to lie down and sleep and be covered by the leaves. Along the river, although we could not see them here, castles would appear to hang on the edge of the hillside-castles such as the one in which the Beauty slept for one hundred years before she was awakened by the kiss of a Prince.

This was the forest of enchantment, of wood cutters, trolls, princes in disguise and princesses who must be rescued, of giants and dwarfs; it was the fairy-tale land.

I had wandered away from the others; no one was in sight. I must watch the time. Pinned to my blouse was a little watch with blue enamel decorations which had been my mother’s. It would not be fair to be late and upset dear kind Schwester Maria.

Then I started to brood on what I had found when I last returned home; the aunts in possession and my father grown indifferent to what went on around him; and it occurred to me that I would have to go back soon, for girls did not stay after nineteen at the Damenstift.

The mist comes suddenly in the mountainous forests. We were very high above sea level. When we went into the little town of Liechtenkinn which was the nearest to the Damen stift we went downhill all the way.

And as I sat thinking of home and wondering vaguely about the future the mist descended and when I got to my feet I could only see a few yards ahead of me. I looked at my watch. It was time to be going.

Schwester Maria would already be rousing from her slumbers, clapping her hands and peering about for the girls. I had climbed a little and the mist might be less thick where she was resting, but in any case the fact that it was there would alarm her and she would certainly decide that we must leave at once.

I started off in what I thought was the direction in which I had come; but I must have been wrong, for I could not find the road. I was not unduly alarmed. I had five minutes or sc to spare and I had not wandered very far. But my concern grew when I still could not find the way. I believed I could be wandering round in circles but I kept assuring myself that soon I would come upon the clearing where we had had our picnic. I would hear the voices of the girls. But there was no sound in the mist.

I called out: “Cooee!” as we did when we wished to attract each other’s attention. There was no response.

I did not know which way to turn and I knew enough of the forest to realize that one could be deceived by direction in a mist such as this one. A horrible panic came to me. It might thicken. It might not lift all night If so how could I find my way back to the clearing. I called again. There was no answer.

I looked at my watch. I was five minutes overdue. I pictured Schwester Maria fussing.

“Helena Trant again!” she would say.

“Of course she didn’`t mean it. She was just not thinking.

How right she was. I must find my way back. I could not worry poor Schwester Maria.

I started off again, calling: “Coo-ee. It’s Helena. Here!”

But no answer came out of the implacable grey mist. The mountain and forests are beautiful but they are also cruel, which is why there is always a hint of cruelty in the fairy tales of the forest. The wicked witch is for ever waiting to spring, the spell-bound trees are waiting to turn into the dragons they become when darkness falls.

But I was not really frightened although I knew I was lost. The wise thing was to stay where I was and call. So I did.

I looked at my watch. Half an hour had passed. I was frantic. But at least they would be searching for me.

I waited. I called. I abandoned my decision to remain where I was and began to walk frantically in several directions. An hour had passed since the time for our rendezvous.

It must have been half an hour after that. I had called until I was hoarse; and then I was alert, for the sound of a displaced stone rolling and the crackle of undergrowth indicated that someone was near.

“Cooee!” I called with relief.

“I’m here.”

He loomed up out of the mist like a hero of the forest on his big white horse. I went towards him. He sat for one second regarding me, then he said in English: “It was you who called. So you’re lost.”

I was too relieved to be surprised that he spoke in English. I began to talk quickly: “Have you seen the wagonette? And Schwester Maria and the girls? I must find them quickly.”

He smiled slowly.

“You’re from the Damenstift.”

“Why, yes, of course.”

He leaped down from his horse. He was tall, broad and immediately I was aware of what I could only describe then as authority. I was delighted. I wanted someone who could get me back to Schwester Maria with all speed and he gave an impression of invincibility.

“I’m lost,” I said.

“There was a picnic.”

“And you strayed away from the fold.” His eyes gleamed.

They were very bright topaz colour, I thought, but perhaps that was the strange light due to the mist. His mouth, which was firm and full, turned up at the corners; he had not taken his eyes from me and I was a little embarrassed by his scrutiny.

“Sheep who stray from the fold deserve to be lost,” he said.

“Yes, I suppose so, but I didn’`t exactly stray far. But for the mist I should have found them easily.”

“One must always expect mist at these heights,” he reproved.

“Well, yes, of course, but will you take me back to them? I’m sure they are still searching for me.”

“If you can tell me where they are, most certainly. But if you knew that important fact you would not need my help.”

“Couldn’'t we try and find them? They can’t be far.”

“How could we find anyone in this mist?”

“It’s more than an hour since I was supposed to be there.”

“Depend upon it. They`’ve gone back to the Damenstift.”

I looked at the horse.

“It’s five miles. Could you take me there?”

I was rather startled to be promptly lifted up and set sideways on the horse. He leaped into the saddle.

“Go on, Schlem,” he said in German.

The horse walked cautiously forward while the stranger kept one arm about me; he held the reins with the other. I could feel my heart beating very fast. I was so excited I had stopped worrying about Schwester Maria.

I said: “Anyone could get lost in the mist.”

“Anyone,” he agreed.

“You were lost, I suppose?” I asked.

“In a manner,” he said.

“Schlem -‘ he patted the horse ‘would always take me back.”

“You’re not English,” I said suddenly.

“I am betrayed,” he replied.

“Tell me what did it’ ” Your accent. It’s very faint, but there. “

“I was educated at Oxford.”

“How exciting! My home is there.”

“I believe I have risen somewhat in your estimation. Am I right?”

“Well, I hadn’`t started to make an estimation yet.”

“How wise of you. One never should on a very short acquaintance.”

“I’m Helena Trant, studying at the Damenstift near Liechtenkinn.”

I waited for him to introduce himself, but all he said was:

How interesting. “

I laughed.

“When you loomed out of the mist I thought you were Siegfried or somebody like that.”

“You are very complimentary.”

“It was the horse. Schlem. He’s magnificent. And you looked so tall and commanding seated up there, just as he must have looked Siegfried, I mean.

“You are well acquainted with our heroes?”

“Well, my mother comes from these parts. As a matter of fact, she was at the same Damenstift. That’s why I’m there.”

“How very fortunate.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because if your mother had not gone to this particular Damenstift you would not have come and you would never have been lost in the mist and I should never have had the pleasure of rescuing you.”

I laughed.

“So it is a pleasure?”

“It’s a great pleasure.”

“The horse keeps going. Where is he taking us?”

“He knows his way.”

“What! To the Damenstift! ” I doubt he has ever been there. But he will take us to some shelter where we can make plans. “

I was contented. I suppose it was that air of authority which gave me the impression that whatever the proposition it would not be too difficult for him to solve it.

“You haven’t told me your name,” I said.

“You`’ve already named me,” he said.

“Siegfried.”

I burst out laughing.

“Is it really? Well, that is a coincidence.

Fancy my hitting on the name. I suppose you are real. You’re not a chimera or something? You’re not suddenly going to disappear. “

“Wait and see,” he said. He held me tightly against him, which aroused in me a strange emotion which I had never felt before and which should, of course, have been a warning.

We had been climbing a little and the horse suddenly changed direction. A house loomed out of the mist.

“Here we are,” said Siegfried.

He dismounted and lifted me down.