At the upper end of the pool the adventurer found a stone landing stage, with an iron ring, to which he fastened the canoe. He leaped lightly on to the rugged platform, and climbed up a rude stair, to find himself facing an arched opening hewn in the face of the cliff. It was masked, more or less, by neglected bushes, and evidently had not been made use of many years. Still, it undoubtedly led upward to the battlements of the Enchanted Castle. So Haskins pushed his way through the trees, and clambered up a ruinous and twisting stair, in complete darkness. Here, indeed, was an adventure not often to be met with in this unromantic age, and the young man's body thrilled as he experienced hitherto unknown emotions. He was Sir Galahad searching for the Grail; Columbus staring at a newly discovered world; a Calender from the Arabian Nights stumbling upon the magical Beauty of the World, a jinn's daughter, lovely and unapproachable.
Up and up went the stair, twisting and turning like an eel, until Haskins, losing count of time, thought that he was mounting to the North Star. Finally the steps ceased to wind, and the explorer clambered up a straight flight which terminated in a small opening, out of which he emerged on to the top of the cliff, and immediately below the ivy-draped wall. The house stood about twenty yards from the verge of the cliff, and the space between was filled with long grass, with stunted bushes, and with tolerably tall trees, all in full summer foliage. On looking up Gerald saw pointed roofs of weatherworn red tiles, twisted stacks of chimneys, and gray stone turrets, the whole so overgrown with greenery that it looked as though the mansion were a portion of the earth itself. There was no door in the wall visible. If there had been one (as was probable to reach the landing stage) it had been blocked up, or was hidden by the darkly green ivy.
"Faint heart never won fair lady," thought Gerald unoriginally, and began to swarm up the natural ladder afforded by the tough roots of the creeper. Out of breath he gained the top of the wall, and, flinging his leg over, sat astride to view this Jack-and-the-Beanstalk Country. Then he beheld--Charity Bird!
[CHAPTER IV.]
THE FAIRY PRINCESS.
Seated on the wall, like Humpty-Dumpty, Gerald gasped, for two excellent reasons. Firstly, he was a trifle breathed with the arduous climb, and, secondly, the sight of the girl whom he believed to be Miss Bird amazed him out of all common-sense. She stood under the wall, arrayed in a plain white dress, without frills or trimmings or ornaments, and looked more like a Vestal of Rome than a young lady of the twentieth century. And to add to Haskins' astonishment she did not appear to be the least startled, or even surprised.
"So you have come at last?" she said softly, and the voice had in it the same melody that Gerald had noted when the phonograph delivered its fantastical message.
"Charity! Miss Bird!" He could hardly get his tongue to move.
The girl looked puzzled. "My name is Mavis Durham," she said simply.
Haskins knew that he was awake, for he had grazed his knee while climbing and the pain assured him of material existence. Otherwise, he would certainly have believed that the whole thing was a delicious dream. But on looking downward more intently he saw that, although the image of Charity in physical appearance, this girl who declared herself to be Mavis Durham had a more spiritual look on her face. Her eyes were turquoise-blue like the dancer's: she possessed the same wonderful hair, the color of ripe corn, about which Miss Bird's admirers raved, and her features were cast in the same classic mold; but she had a mystical, etherial, evanescent look about her, which hinted at more spirituality than was apparent in Charity's pronouncedly material charms. It might have been the dying light of the evening, or the exalted state of mind consequent on emotion, that raised Gerald to a high plane, but the girl looked as though she would vanish like a wreath of mist under the influence of the newly risen sun.