bed on returning from
my evening walk. I am supposed to be doing a 'rest-cure' here. The maid
tried my door, went away, and did not turn up again until next morning.
Most likely she has done the same to-night."

"Then I don't suppose they will send out a search-party," said Jim
Airth.

"No. We are so alone down here. We only matter to ourselves," said Myra.

"And to each other," said Jim Airth, quietly.

Myra's heart stood still.

Those four words, spoken so simply by that deep tender voice, meant more
to her than any words had ever meant. They meant so much, that they made
for themselves a silence--a vast holy temple of wonder and realisation
wherein they echoed back and forth, repeating themselves again and
again.

The two on the ledge sat listening.

The chant of mutual possession, so suddenly set going, was too beautiful
a thing to be interrupted by other words.

Even Lady Ingleby's unfailing habit of tactful speech was not allowed to
spoil the deep sweetness of this unexpected situation. Myra's heart was
waking; and when the heart is stirred, the mind sometimes forgets to be
tactful.

At length:--"Don't you remember," he said, very low, "what I told you
before we began to climb? Did I not say, that if we succeeded in reaching
the ledge safely, we should owe our lives to each other? Well, we did;
and--we do."

"Ah, no," cried Myra, impulsively. "No, Jim Airth! You--glad, and safe,
and free--were walking along the top of these cliffs. I, in my senseless
folly, lay sleeping on the sand below, while the tide rose around me. You
came down into danger to save me, risking your life in so doing. I owe
you my life, Jim Airth; you owe me nothing."

The man beside her turned and looked at her, with his quiet whimsical
smile.

"I am not accustomed to have my statements amended," he said, drily.

It was growing so dark, they could only just discern each other's faces.

Lady Ingleby laughed. She was so unused to that kind of remark, that, at
the moment she could frame no suitable reply.

Presently:--"I suppose I really owe my life to my scarlet parasol," she
said. "Had it not attracted your attention, you would not have seen me."

"Should I not?" questioned Jim Airth, his eyes on the white loveliness of
her face. "Since I saw you first, on the afternoon of your arrival, have
you ever once come within my range of vision without my seeing you, and
taking in every detail?"

"On the afternoon of my arrival?" qu