“So much the better,” she declared.  “I prefer anything which does not make too great a strain upon the intellect.  Besides, it is the very simplicity of this country which makes it so beautiful.”

“Yet it is a land,” I remarked, “of elusive charms.”

“Sometimes, unless they are pointed out,” she replied, “by one who has the eye and ear for nature, these are the hardest to appreciate.  Only the other evening I was standing upon the cliffs, and I thought what a dreary waste of marshes and sands the place was, and then a single gleam of late sunshine seemed to transform everything.  There is hidden colour everywhere if one looks closely enough, and I suppose it is true that the most beautiful things in the world are those which remain just below the surface—­a little invisible until one searches for them.  By-the-bye, Mr. Ducaine,” she added, “if you are on your way home I can show you a path which will save you nearly half the distance.”

“You are very kind, Lady Angela,” I answered.  “Cannot I find it, though, without taking you out of your way?”

She smiled.

“You might,” she said, “but I walk down to the cliffs every afternoon.  I was just starting when you came.  It is quite a regular pilgrimage with me.  All day long we hear the sea, but except from the upper windows we have no clear view of it.  This is the path.”

We crossed the Park together.  All the while she talked to me easily and naturally of the country around, the great antiquity of its landmarks, the survival of many ancient customs and almost obsolete forms of speech.  At last we came to a small plantation, through which we emerged on to the cliffs.  Here, to my surprise, we came upon a quaintly shaped grey stone cottage almost hidden by the trees.  I had passed on the sands below many times without seeing it.

“Rather a strange situation for a house, is it not?” Lady Angela remarked.  “My grandfather built it for an old pensioner, but I do not think that it has been occupied for some time.”

“It is marvellously hidden,” I said.  “I never had the least idea that there was a house here at all.”

We stood now on the edge of the cliff, and she pointed downwards.

“There is a little path there, you see, leading to the sands,” she said.  “It saves you quite half the distance to your cottage if you do not mind a scramble.  You must take care just at first.  So many of the stones are loose.”

I understood that I was dismissed, and I thanked her and turned away.  But she almost immediately called me back.

“Mr. Ducaine!”

“Lady Angela?”