It was on this shore, just under the windows of our house, that I was once the heroine of a very real adventure, which had almost cost me my life. I think at the time I could not have been more than four years old, but it made such a deep impression on my mind that I can remember every detail as clearly as though it had happened only yesterday. I had been taken by Juanita to play in the cool of the evening on the little strip of silver sand and shingle which lay between our high garden wall and the dashing surf. I had left my doll's cape on the terrace, and I begged Juanita to go and fetch it. For a long time she refused, but on my promising not to stir from the spot where I was playing, she was at last persuaded, and hurried up the steep flight of steps on to the verandah. It had been an intensely hot day, and I was tired, so I thought I would sit down and rest until Juanita returned. Looking round I saw, as I imagined, a nice smooth round stone close by, upon which I settled myself very comfortably, curling my little fat legs under me. But the stone must surely have been an enchanted rock out of one of Tasso's fairy stories, for it suddenly began to move, and, rising up, it put out four flat feet, and marched briskly down the beach towards the sea. The entire unexpectedness of it so utterly terrified me that I could neither cry nor move, only hold on tight with both hands, and wonder what black magic had seized upon me. The turtle, for such in reality my stone proved to be, rapidly gained the water, and it was about to paddle off in a hurry with its strange burden, when Juanita, returning on to the verandah, saw my desperate plight, and by her frantic screams brought Tasso, who dashed down the steps and into the sea, just in time to rescue me before the turtle took a dive into the deeper water. I do not think Tasso ever quite forgave poor Juanita for this accident, though she beat her breast and lamented in a perfect hail-storm of southern grief. And always after this he would keep an eye upon me when I was in her charge, appearing mysteriously from behind trees, popping his dark head through windows, or peering between the vines of the pergola; coming so suddenly and unexpectedly upon us, that I began to think he had the gift of some of his magic heroes, and could make himself visible and invisible at pleasure. I like to recall those happy days of my early childhood; days when the sun always shone, and the air was full of the scent of orange-blossom, and my father and I lived a life apart among the flowers in the old terraced garden, where the hum of the little town and the roll of the surf below seemed but a distant echo of the world beyond.