But I almost know she had fancied that Sir Lionel might have made an
excuse to get a word with me, and had flown up to find out for herself.
You can imagine, dear, that I didn't feel much like going to bed when
I'd finished saying good-night, and shut my door upon the world. It
seemed to me that this birthplace of Sir Lionel's ancestor, King Arthur
Pendragon, was too romantic and wonderful to go tamely to sleep in. And
what was my covered balcony for, if not to dream dreams and think
thoughts, by moonlight?
So I switched off the electricity in my room, and went out to find that
the moon (which is big and grand now) had come out, too, tearing apart a
great black cloud in order to look down on Arthur-land, and see if she
had any adorers. Anyway, she must have seen me, for she turned the night
into silver dawn, so clear and bright that she couldn't have missed me
if she tried.
I did wish for you to be with me then, and I'm ashamed to confess I
wouldn't have minded Sir Lionel as a companion, because Tintagel seems
so much more his than mine.
Never did I hear the sea talk poetry and legend as it does round those
dark rocks of old "Dundagel.
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