She was aware of nothing except that this unhappy man
was perishing--had, perhaps, already perished--for her sake; through
fear for her safety, and his wish not to give her offense. She was on
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.
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