her knees upon the ledge, and craning over it with horror-stricken face
the next instant, and could see him plainly. His feet had fallen upon
that very part of the old path which the storms of last winter had torn
and jagged away. A few jolting fragments of rock were all that was left
of it--insufficient even for a practiced cragsman to make his way along
on either side. His head--she could not see his face--was but a yard
beneath her; but how could she get at him?

"I am here," she cried. "Be of good courage, Sir."

She had nothing to offer in the way of help at the moment; but she was
well aware of what vital importance it was that he should not lose
heart. She lay down with her face on the bare rock, and strove to reach
him; but, even had her arm been long enough, he had no hand to spare to
clasp her own. The whole force of the gale was full upon her, and
carried her hair to windward like a whip.

"Do not come too near the edge, brave girl," cried Richard, beginning to
be conscious of her efforts. "Is there no rope nor ladder?"

"Yes," answered the girl. "Keep heart. Do not look down. I must be five
minutes gone--not more."

She was up, and with the gate-key in her hand, ere she had done
speaking. Great Heaven! would that door never open? How her trembling
hands missed the keyhole; and when the key was in, how the rusty wards
opposed its turning. Then when the door was opened, it seemed as though
the winds had husbanded their strength behind it for one wild sortie,
with such fury did they rush out to beat her back. But she struggled in
somehow, and on across the howling waste of clifftop to a little hut of