Mindful of Uncle George's saying that the water-cave held light at times,
we visited it again, and yet again, until coming down the sloping path one
time, we saw the narrow roof above us and the rough walls on either side
tinged with a faint soft light, and hastening down like children into a
forbidden room, we found ourselves in a curious place.

The tide was very far out, and the black cave, in which we had hitherto
seen only sulky waves tumbling unhappily, had become a wonder equal to
those Krok used to open to us in the Gouliots.

We could now go quite a long way down the shelving side of the rock, and
the water that lay below was no longer black but a beautiful living green,
from the light which stole up through it by means of an archway at the
farther end. The arch was under water, but the light streamed through it,
soft and mellow and glowing, so that the whole place seemed to throb with
gentle life. Outside I judged it was early morning, with the sun shining
full on the sea above the archway.

And here we found what Krok had shown us in the Gouliots as their chiefest
beauties,--the roof and walls were studded with anemones of every size and
colour, green and crimson, and brown and pink, and lavender and white and
orange; so completely was the rock clothed with them that it was not rock
we saw, but masses and sheets and banks of the lovely clinging things, all
closed up within themselves till the water should return, and shining like
polished gems in the ghostly green light.

The boulders that strewed the sloping sides of the cave-floor were covered
with them also, and in the glowing green water they were all in full bloom
and waving their arms merrily to and fro in search of food.