of Orizaba.

Had it not been for this vision I think it possible that I might have
left her. I wish to gloze over nothing; I did not make my own nature,
and in these pages I describe it as it was and is without palliation or
excuse. I know that this is not the fashion in autobiographies; no one
has done it since the time of Pepys, who did not write for publication,
and for that very reason my record has its value. I am physically and,
perhaps morally also, timid--that is, although I have faced it boldly
enough upon occasion, as the reader will learn in the course of my
history, I fear the thought of death, and especially of cruel and
violent death, such as was near to me at that moment. So much did I
fear it then that the mere fact that an acquaintance was in danger and
distress would scarcely have sufficed to cause me to sacrifice, or
at least to greatly complicate, my own chances of escape in order to
promote hers simply because that acquaintance was of the other sex. But
Emma had touched a new chord in my nature, and I felt, whether I liked
it or not, that whatever I could do for myself I must do for her also.
So I shuffled forward again.

"Listen," I whispered, "I have been to look and I do not believe that
the cliff is very steep just here. Will you try it with me?"

"Of course," she answered; "I had as soon die of a broken neck as in any
other way."

"We must watch our chance then, or they will see us run and shoot. Wait
till I give you the signal."

She nodded her head and we waited.