One evening Brother Umphred appeared, his round face abeam with innocent good will. He carried a basket, which he placed upon the chapel steps. He looked Suldrun carefully up and down. "Marvelous!

You are as beautiful as ever! Your hair shines, your skin glows; how do you keep so clean?"

"Don't you know?" asked Suldrun. "I bathe, in yonder basin."

Brother Umphred raised his hands in mock horror. "That is the font for holy water! You have done sacrilege!"

Suldrun merely shrugged and turned away.

With happy gestures Brother Umphred unpacked his basket. "Let us bring cheer to your life. Here is tawny wine; we will drink!"

"No. Please leave."

"Are you not bored and dissatisfied?"

"Not at all. Take your wine and go."

Silently Brother Umphred departed.

With the coming of autumn the leaves turned color and dusk came early. There was a succession of sad and glorious sunsets, then came the rains and the cold of winter, whereupon the chapel became bleak and chill. Suldrun piled stones to build a hearth and a chimney against one of the windows. The other she wadded right with twigs and grass. Currents swinging around the cape cast driftwood up on the shingle, which Suldrun carried to the chapel to dry, and then burnt on the hearth.

The rains dwindled; sunlight burned bright through cold crisp air, and spring was at hand. Daffodils appeared among the flower beds and the trees put on new leaves. In the sky appeared the stars of spring: Capella, Arcturus, Denebola. On sunny mornings cumulus clouds towered high over the sea, and Suldrun's blood seemed to quicken. She felt a strange restlessness, which never before had troubled her.

The days became longer, and Suldrun's perceptions became more acute, and each day began to have its own quality, as if it were one of a limited number. A tension began to form, an imminence, and often Suldrun stayed awake all night long, so that she might know all to occur in her garden.

Brother Umphred paid another visit. He found Suldrun sitting on the stone steps of the chapel, sunning herself. Brother Umphred looked at her with curiosity. The sun had tanned her arms, legs and face, and lightened strands of her hair. She looked the picture of serene good health; in fact, thought Brother Umphred, she seemed almost happy.

The fact aroused his carnal suspicions; he wondered if she had taken a lover. "Dearest Suldrun, my heart bleeds when I think of you solitary and forlorn. Tell me; how do you fare?"

"Well enough," said Suldrun. "I like solitude. Please do not remain here on my account."

Brother Umphred gave a cheerful chuckle. He settled himself beside her. "Ah, dearest Suldrun—" He put his hand on hers. Suldrun stared at the fat white fingers; they felt moist and over-amiable.

She moved her hand; the fingers fell away reluctantly. "—I bring you not only Christian solace, but also a more human consolation.

You must recognize that while I am a priest I am also a man, and susceptible to your beauty. Will you accept this friendship?"

Umphred's voice became soft and unctuous. "Even though the emotion is warmer and dearer than simple friendship?"

Suldrun laughed drearily. She rose to her feet and pointed at the gate. "Sir, you have my leave to go. I hope that you will not return." She turned and descended into the garden. Brother Umphred muttered a curse and departed.

Suldrun sat beside the lime tree and looked out over the sea. "I wonder," she asked herself, "what will become of me? I am beautiful, so everyone says, but it has brought me only bane. Why am I punished, as if I had done wrong? Somehow I must bestir myself; I must make a change."

After her evening meal she wandered down to the ruined villa, where she liked best, on clear nights, to watch the stars. Tonight they showed an extraordinary brilliance and seemed to address themselves to her, like wonderful children brimming with secrets... She rose to her feet and stood listening. Imminence hung in the air; its meaning she could not decide.

The night breeze became cool; Suldrun retreated up through the garden. In the chapel, coals yet smouldered in the fireplace.

Suldrun blew them ablaze, lay on dry driftwood and the room became warm.

In the morning, wakening very early, she went out into the dawn.

Dew lay heavy on foliage and grass; the silence had a primitive quality. Suldrun went down through the garden, slow as a sleepwalker, down to the beach. Surf boomed up the shingle. The sun, rising, colored far clouds at the opposite horizon. At the southern curve of the beach, where currents brought driftwood, she noticed a human body which had floated in on the tide. Suldrun halted, then approached, step by step, and stared down in horror, which quickly became pity. What tragedy, that so cold a death had taken one so young, so wan, so comely...A wave stirred the young man's legs. His fingers spasmodically extended, clawed into the shingle. Suldrun dropped to her knees, pulled the body up from the water. She brushed back the sodden curls. The hands were bloody; the head was bruised. "Don't die," whispered Suldrun. "Please don't die!"

The eyelids flickered; eyes, glazed and filmed with sea-water, looked up at her, then closed.

Suldrun dragged the body up into dry sand. When she tugged the right shoulder he emitted a sad sound. Suldrun ran to the chapel, brought back coals and dry wood, and built up a fire. She wiped the cold face with a cloth. "Don't die," she said again and again.

His skin began to warm. Sunlight shone over the cliffs and down upon the beach. Aillas opened his eyes once more and wondered if indeed he had died, and now roamed the gardens of paradise with the most beautiful of all golden-haired angels to tend him.

Suldrun asked: "How do you feel?"

"My shoulder hurts." Aillas moved his arm. The twinge of pain assured him that he still lived. "Where is this place?"

"This is an old garden near Lyonesse Town. I am Suldrun." She touched his shoulder. "Do you think it's broken?"

"I don't know."

"Can you walk? I can't carry you up the hill."

Aillas tried to rise, but fell. He tried again, with Suldrun's arm around his waist, and stood swaying.

"Come now, I'll try to hold you."

Step by step they climbed up through the garden. At the ruins they stopped to rest. Aillas said weakly, "I must tell you that I am Troice. I fell from a ship. If I am captured I will be put in prison—at the very least."

Suldrun laughed. "You are already in a prison. Mine. I am not allowed to leave. Don't worry; I will keep you safe."

She helped him to his feet; at last they reached the chapel.

As best she could Suldrun immobilized Aillas' shoulder with bandages and withes and made him lie upon her couch. Aillas accepted her ministrations and lay watching her: what crimes had this beautiful girl committed that she should be so imprisoned?

Suldrun fed him first honey and wine, then porridge. Aillas became warm and comfortable and fell asleep.

By evening Aillas' body burned with fever. Suldrun knew no remedy save damp cloths on the forehead. By midnight the fever cooled, and Aillas slept. Suldrun made herself as comfortable as possible on the floor before the fire.

In the morning Aillas awoke, half-convinced that his circumstances were unreal, that he was living a dream. Gradually he allowed himself to remember the Smaadra. Who had thrown him into the sea?

Trewan? By reason of sudden madness? Why else? His manner since visiting the Troice cog at Ys had been most peculiar. What could have happened aboard the cog? What possibly could have driven Trewan past the brink of sanity?

On the third day Aillas decided that he had broken no bones and Suldrun eased his bandages. When the sun rose high the two descended into the garden and sat among the fallen columns of the old Roman villa. Through the golden afternoon they told each other of their lives. "This is not our first meeting," said Aillas. "Do you remember visitors from Troicinet about ten years ago? I remember you."