ombes
of Wychecombe-Regis, Herts, but has no connection with those of
Wychecombe-Hall, Devonshire."
"There--there--the cliff!--the cliff!" added Mildred, unable, for the
moment, to be more explicit.
As the girl pointed towards the precipice, and looked the very image of
horror, the good-hearted old baronet began to get some glimpses of the
truth; and, by means of a few words with Dutton, soon knew quite as much
as his two companions. Descending from his pony with surprising activity
for one of his years, Sir Wycherly was soon on his feet, and a sort of
confused consultation between the three succeeded. Neither liked to
approach the cliff, which was nearly perpendicular at the extremity of
the head-land, and was always a trial to the nerves of those who shrunk
from standing on the verge of precipices. They stood like persons
paralyzed, until Dutton, ashamed of his weakness, and recalling the
thousand lessons in coolness and courage he had received in his own
manly profession, made a movement towards advancing to the edge of the
cliff, in order to ascertain the real state of the case. The blood
returned to the cheeks of Mildred, too, and she again found a portion of
her natural spirit raising her courage.
"Stop, father," she said, hastily; "you are infirm, and are in a tremour
at this moment. My head is steadier--let me go to the verge of the hill,
and learn what has happened."
This was uttered with a forced calmness that deceived her auditors, both
of whom, the one from age, and the other from shattered nerves, were
certainly in no condition to assume the same office. It required the
all-seeing eye, which alone can scan the heart, to read all the agonized
suspense with which that young and beautiful creature approached the
spot, where she might command a view of the whole of the side of the
fearful declivity, from its giddy summit to the base, where it was
washed by the sea. The latter, indeed, could not literally be seen from
above, the waves having so far undermined the cliff, as to leave a
projection that concealed the point where the rocks and the water came
absolutely in contact; the upper portion of the weather-worn rocks
falling a little inwards, so as to leave a ragged surface that was
sufficiently broken to contain patches of earth, and verdure, sprinkled
with the flowers peculiar to such an exposure. The fog, also,
intercepted the sight, giving to the descent the appearance of a
fathomless abyss. Had t
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