had of course now and
again been for short periods to various places; but the wonder of the sea
as a constant companion had been practically unknown to her.

Now at her new home its full splendour burst upon her; and so impressed
itself upon her that new life seemed to open.

Lannoy was on the north-eastern coast, the castle standing at the base of
a wide promontory stretching far into the North Sea. From the coast the
land sloped upward to a great rolling ridge. The outlook seaward was
over a mighty expanse of green sward, dotted here and there with woods
and isolated clumps of trees which grew fewer and smaller as the rigour
of the northern sea was borne upon them by the easterly gales.

The coast was a wild and lonely one. No habitation other than an
isolated fisher's cottage was to be seen between the little fishing-port
at the northern curve away to the south, where beyond a waste of
sandhills and strand another tiny fishing-village nestled under a high
cliff, sheltering it from northerly wind. For centuries the lords of
Lannoy had kept their magnificent prospect to themselves; and though they
had treated their farmers and cottagers well, none had ever been allowed
to settle in the great park to seaward of the castle.

From the terrace of the castle only than one building, other than the
cottage on the headland, could be seen. Far off on the very crest of the
ridge was the tower of an old windmill.

CHAPTER XXIX--THE SILVER LADY

When it was known that Lady de Lannoy had come to Lannoy there was a
prompt rush of such callers as the county afforded. Stephen, however,
did not wish to see anyone just at present. Partly to avoid the chance
meeting with strangers, and partly because she enjoyed and benefited by
the exercise, she was much away from home every day. Sometimes, attended
only by a groom, she rode long distances north or south along the coast;
or up over the ridge behind the castle and far inland along the shaded
roads through the woods; or over bleak wind-swept stretches of moorland.
Sometimes she would walk, all alone, far down to the sea-road, and would
sit for hours on the shore or high up on some little rocky headland where
she could enjoy the luxury of solitude.

Now and again in her journeyings she made friends, most of them humble
ones. She was so great a lady in her station that she could be familiar
without seeming to condescend. The fishermen of the little ports to
north a