At the top of the track her way turned sharply at right angles to where a narrow ridge--so narrow that two people could not walk it abreast--led to Tintagel Head.

It was the merest neck of land, very steep on either hand, like a slender bridge connecting what the Cornish folk generally speak of as "the Island" with the mainland.
Nan proceeded to cross the narrow ridge.

She was particularly surefooted as a rule, her supple body balancing itself instinctively.
But to-day, for the first time, she felt suddenly nervous as she neared the crag and, glancing downward, caught sight of the sullen billows thundering far below on either side.

Perhaps the events of the day had frayed her nerves more than she knew.

It was only by an effort that she dismissed the unaccustomed sensation of malaise which had assailed her and determinedly began the ascent to the castle by way of a series of primitively rough-hewn steps.