something and to be away from Heathcote. Still, she could not help
believing that he would miss her; men had been known to be very much
interested in girls, and yet make no sign for a long time. They watched
them from a distance. In this case Valeria was to have her hopes
realized. She was to be watched, and from a distance.

The eight who reached the summit sported gayly to and fro for a while,
now near the edge, now back, gathering flowers and throwing them over,
calling down to the smokers, who lay and watched them, without, however,
any burning desire especially visible on their countenances to climb up
and join them. Valeria, with a stubborn determination to make herself in
some way conspicuous, went to the edge of the cliff, and even leaned
over; she had one arm round a young tree, but half of her shoes (by no
means small ones) were over the verge, and the breeze showed that they
were. Anne saw it, and spoke to Isabel.

"If she will do it, she will," answered Isabel; "and the more we notice
her, the more she will persist. She is one of those dull girls intended
by Nature to be always what is called sensible. And when one of _those_
girls takes to making a fool of herself, her idiocy is colossal."

But Isabel's philosophy did not relieve Anne's fear. She called to
Valeria, warningly, "You are very near the edge, Miss Morle; wouldn't it
be safer to step back a little?"

But Valeria would not. They were all noticing her at last. They should
see how strong her nerves were, how firm her poise. The smokers below,
too, were now observing her. She threw back her head, and hummed a
little tune. If the edge did not crumble, she was, in truth, safe
enough. To a person who is not dizzy, five inches of foot-hold is as
safe as five yards.

But--the edge did crumble. And suddenly. The group of women behind had
the horror, of seeing her sway, stagger, slip down, frantically writhe
on the verge half an instant, and then, with an awful scream, slide over
out of sight, as her arm was wrenched from the little tree. Those below
had seen it too. They sprang to their feet, and ran first forward, then
round and up the hill behind.

For she had not slipped far. The cliff jutted out slightly a short
distance below the verge, and, by what seemed a miracle, the girl was
held by this second edge. Eight inches beyond, the sheer precipice
began, with the pile of broken stones sixty feet below. Anne was the
first to discover this, reaching