choing through the cliffs--and in another instant all
that remained of him was a lifeless, mangled corpse. The poor fellow's
story is soon told. He was an idiot, and having wandered from his mother's
side, had reached the fatal spot, no one knew how, and thus met a fearful
death.

His poor mother witnessed the dreadful catastrophe, and agonizing was her
grief as she followed the body of her child, which was borne on the
shoulders of the awe-struck villagers to her home. Mr Gordon also followed
the body to the house, and, feeling that at such a time any attempt at
comforting the childless widow would be of no avail, he merely placed a sum
of money in the hands of a respectable-looking person, a bystander, for her
use, and slowly and sick at heart he was in the act of returning to his
friends, when he met Christina Cunningham, who was in search of him, for
the purpose of bringing him back to luncheon. She saw that he was deadly
pale, and hurriedly asked if he felt ill. He told her all that had
happened.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "if it had been _you_!"

"Well, Miss Cunningham," he replied, carelessly, "and if it had, few would
have missed me. I should probably have had fewer mourners than that poor
idiot boy."

"Oh, how can you say so?" she returned, and bending down her head, became
visibly agitated. And yet poor Christina knew not, even now, that she loved
Charles Gordon: she understood not the true cause of the beatings of her
disturbed heart. He looked at her. As he looked, a momentary smile passed
over his features, which was soon exchanged for an expression of deep
sorrow, as he thought of the lonely widow, bending over the lifeless form
of her lost son. The sad story was related to the rest of the party, and
all cheerfulness for the time was at an end.

This was destined to be an eventful day. Another calamity--and one that,
although it was not attended with fatal results, affected Charles more than
that which had occurred--was yet to take place. We have said that there
were some remarkable caves at this place, which had long been objects of
interest to the traveller and excursionist. One there is in particular,
called the Devil's Cave, which penetrates far into the heart of the rock,
on the face of which lies its entrance. From the steepness of the path
which leads into this cavern, it is rarely visited by tourists. The party,
however, with perhaps more curiosity than prudence, determined to explore
and visit thi