"I am so sorry to have given you so much trouble," she said, hurriedly.
"Let us not talk about that until we get safe down from this height," he said, with a smile.
"Oh! I was forgetting," she said, with some little confusion. "But the rest is comparatively easy, isn't it?"
"Comparatively," he replied. "But there are several very awkward places to be negotiated."
"It was wicked of me to put any one to so much trouble and risk. I do hope you will forgive me," and she looked appealingly up into his face.
"I hope you will not talk any more about trouble," he answered. "To have served you will be abundant compensation."
"It is kind of you to say nice things," she answered, looking at the yellow sand below; "but I feel very angry with myself all the same. You told me when we met on the top weeks and weeks ago that the cliffs were very dangerous. I don't know what possessed me to think I could climb to the top."
"You are not the first to make the attempt," he answered. "A visitor was killed at this very point only last summer."
"A girl?"
"No, a young man."
"I shall never attempt to do anything so foolish again, and I shall never forget that but for you I should have lost my life. It was surely a kind providence that sent you; don't you think so?"
"Do you think so?" he questioned, with a smile.
"I would like to think so, anyhow," she answered, seriously. "And yet it sounds conceited, doesn't it? If I were anybody of importance it would be different. I don't wonder you smile at the idea of providence interfering to save a chit of a girl after all."
"I don't know that I smiled at the idea," he answered, turning away his head. "If there is any interference or any interposition in human affairs, why should not you be singled out as well as anybody else?"
"Well, you see, it would presuppose, wouldn't it? that I was a person of some value, or of some use in the world?"
"You may be of very great use in the world."
"Ah! now you flatter me. What can an ordinary girl do?"
"I do not know," he answered. "We none of us can tell what lies hidden in the chambers of destiny. You may be – "
"What?"
"I cannot say."
"But you were going to mention something."
"Second thoughts are sometimes best," and he turned his head, and smiled frankly in her face.
"Now you are tantalising," she said, with a laugh; "but I will not find fault with you. I cannot forget how much you have risked for my sake."
"Had we not better try and complete the journey?" he questioned. "We are not out of the wood yet, and the tide is coming in rapidly."
She rose slowly to her feet, and steadied herself against the cliff. She was very stiff and cramped, and a good deal bruised.
He followed her example with a hardly suppressed groan.
"Are you hurt?" she asked, looking at him eagerly.
"Not at all," he answered, gaily. "A few scratches, but nothing to speak of. Now let me walk in front, and you can lean on my shoulder."
Neither spoke again for a long time. Rufus picked his way with great caution, and she was too frightened to run any more unnecessary risks.
They were within a dozen feet or so of the beach, and he with his back to the sea was helping her down a slippery bit of rock, when suddenly a stone gave way beneath his foot, and he was precipitated to the bottom. Feeling himself going he let go her hand, or he would have dragged her with him. With a little cry of alarm she sat down to save herself, while he disappeared from sight.
She was on her feet, however, in an instant, and scrambled quickly down to his side. He was lying on a broad slab of rock with his right leg doubled under him.
"Are you hurt?" she asked, eagerly and excitedly.
"A little," he answered with a pitiful smile.
She came and knelt by his side, and took his hand in hers. "Cannot I help you to get up?" she inquired.
"I am not sure," he said, pulling a very wry face. "I'm very much afraid I shall have to lie here until you can get assistance. You see it is my turn now."
"But what is the matter?" she asked, eagerly.
"I fear my leg is broken," he said, knitting his brows, as if in pain. "Something went with a snap, and I'm afraid to move."
"But you cannot lie here," she said, "for the tide is coming in. Oh! let me help you to get up. Do try your best."
"I will, for your sake," he answered, and he smiled at her in a way she never forgot.
"Oh, I shall never forgive myself," she said, chokingly, and the tears filled her eyes, and rolled down her cheeks. "All this comes of my stupid folly!"
"No, you must not blame yourself," he insisted. "You could not help the stone giving way. Now give me your hand. How strong you are! There, I'm in a perpendicular position once more," but while he spoke he became deathly pale, and the perspiration stood in big drops on his brow.
"Lean on me," she said; "lean all your weight on me."
He smiled pitifully, but he could not trust himself to speak.
He put his right arm about her neck, and used her as a crutch. This was no time to stand on ceremony. But the pain was too intolerable to move more than a few steps. With a groan he fell against the sloping foot of the cliff. "You must leave me here," he said, with a gasp.
"Leave you here?" she cried. "Why you will drown."
"We shall both drown if you stay," he answered.
"It doesn't matter about me a bit," she wailed, and she brushed away the blinding tears with her hand. "But you – you – oh! you must be saved at all costs."
"Perhaps, if you make haste you will be able to get help before it is too late," he said.
"But how? Oh! I will do anything for you. Tell me what I can do for the best."
"Make your way into town as fast as you can. Tell the first man you meet how I am situated. Let one party come round here with a boat, and another party come over the cliffs with a stretcher. Everything depends on the time it takes."
"Oh! I will fly all the distance," she said, with liquid eyes; "but who shall I say is hurt? I do not even know your name."
"Rufus Sterne," he answered. "Everybody in St. Gaved knows me."
She looked at him for a moment, pityingly, pleadingly, then rushed away over the level sand in the direction of Penwith Cove. She forgot her bruises and stiffness, and did not heed that every step was a stab of pain.
Rufus Sterne was lying helpless – helpless because he had risked his life to save her from the consequences of her folly. And all the while the tide was coming in, and he would be watching it rising higher and higher, and if help did not reach him before the cold salt water swept over his face, he would be drowned, and she would be the cause of his death.
How she climbed the zig-zag path out of Penwith Cove she never knew. She ran and ran until she felt as though she could not go a step farther even to save her life, and if her own life only had been at stake she would have lain down on the cliffs and taken her chance.
But it was his life that was in jeopardy, and to her excited imagination his life seemed of more value than the lives of a hundred ordinary people.
She had read of heroes in her girlhood days, and thrilled over the story of their exploits, but no hero of fact or fiction had ever so touched her heart as this lonely man who was lying helpless at the foot of the cliffs, watching with patient and suffering eyes the inflowing of the tide.
"Oh! he must be saved," she kept saying to herself, "for he deserves to live. And I must be the means of saving him."
She