Next morning he was awake early, and jumping out of bed, so as not to
disturb the sleeping Vernon, he drew up the window-blind, and gently
opened the window. A very beautiful scene burst on him, one destined to
be long mingled with all his most vivid reminiscences. Not twenty yards
below the garden, in front of the house, lay Ellan Bay, at that moment
rippling with golden laughter in the fresh breeze of sunrise. On either
side of the bay was a bold headland, the one stretching out in a series
of broken crags, the other terminating in a huge mass of rock, called
from its shape the Stack. To the right lay the town, with its grey old
castle, and the mountain stream running through it into the sea; to the
left, high above the beach, rose the crumbling fragment of a picturesque
fort, behind which towered the lofty buildings of Roslyn School. Eric
learnt the whole landscape by heart, and thought himself a most happy
boy to come to such a place. He fancied that he should be never tired of
looking at the sea, and could not take his eyes off the great buoy that
rolled about in the centre of the bay, and flashed in the sunlight at
every move.
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