ght was a heavy one. Her balance was lost, her feet
flew up, she fell upon her back, and the smooth beaver cloak began
sliding upon the slippery rock. Horrible death was pulling at her; not
a stick nor a stone was in reach of her hands, and the pitiless crags
echoed one long shriek above all the roar of the water-fall. She strove
to turn over and grasp the ground, but only felt herself going faster.
Her bright boots were flashing against the white mist--a picture in
her mind forever--her body was following, inch by inch. With elbow and
shoulder, and even hair coils, she strove to prolong the descent into
death; but the descent increased its speed, and the sky itself was
sliding.

Just when the balance was inclining downward, and the plunge hanging on
a hair's-breadth, powerful hands fell upon her shoulders; a grating of a
drag against the grain was the last thing she was conscious of; and Sir
Duncan Yordas, having made a strong pull, at the imminent risk of his
life, threw back his weight on the heels of his boots, and they helped
him. His long Indian spurs, which had no rowel, held their hold like a
falcon's hind talon; and he drew back the lady without knowing who she
was, having leaped from his horse at her despairing scream. From his
knowledge of the place he concluded that it was some person seeking
suicide, but recoiling from the sight of death; and without another
thought he risked his life to save.

Breathless himself--for the transit of years and of curry-powder had not
improved his lungs--he labored at the helpless form, and laid it at last
in a place of safety.

"What a weight the lady is!" was his first idea; "it can not be want of
food that has driven her, nor of money either; her cloak would fetch a
thousand rupees in Calcutta. And a bag full of something--precious also,
to judge by the way she clings to it. Poor thing! Can I get any water
for her? There used to be a spring here, where the woodcocks came. Is
it safe to leave her? Certainly not, with her head like that; she might
even have apoplexy. Allow me, madam. I will not steal it. It is only for
a cushion."

The lady, however, though still in a stupor, kept her fingers clinched
upon the handle of the bag; and without using violence he could not move
them. Then the stitching of the frail gave way, and Sir Duncan espied
a roll of parchment. Suddenly the lady opened large dark eyes, which
wandered a little, and then (as he raised her head) met his, a