ms above his head, and the shelf on which he
stood, impended over a portion of the cliff that was absolutely
perpendicular, and which might be said to be out of the line of those
projections along which he had so lately been idly gathering flowers. It
was physically impossible for any human being to extricate himself from
such a situation, without assistance. This Wychecombe understood at a
glance, and he had passed the few minutes that intervened between his
fall and the appearance of the party above him, in devising the means
necessary to his liberation. As it was, few men, unaccustomed to the
giddy elevations of the mast, could have mustered a sufficient command
of nerve to maintain a position on the ledge where he stood. Even he
could not have continued there, without steadying his form by the aid of
the bushes.

As soon as the baronet and Dutton got a glimpse of the perilous position
of young Wychecombe, each recoiled in horror from the sight, as if
fearful of being precipitated on top of him. Both, then, actually lay
down on the grass, and approached the edge of the cliff again, in that
humble attitude, even trembling as they lay at length, with their chins
projecting over the rocks, staring downwards at the victim. The young
man could see nothing of all this; for, as he stood with his back
against the cliff, he had not room to turn, with safety, or even to look
upwards. Mildred, however, seemed to lose all sense of self and of
danger, in view of the extremity in which the youth beneath was placed.
She stood on the very verge of the precipice, and looked down with
steadiness and impunity that would have been utterly impossible for her
to attain under less exciting circumstances; even allowing the young man
to catch a glimpse of her rich locks, as they hung about her beautiful
face.

"For God's sake, Mildred," called out the youth, "keep further from the
cliff--I see you, and we can now hear each other without so much risk."

"What can we do to rescue you, Wychecombe?" eagerly asked the girl.
"Tell me, I entreat you; for Sir Wycherly and my father are both
unnerved!"

"Blessed creature! and _you_ are mindful of my danger! But, be not
uneasy, Mildred; do as I tell you, and all will yet be well. I hope you
hear and understand what I say, dearest girl?"

"Perfectly," returned Mildred, nearly choked by the effort to be calm.
"I hear every syllable--speak on."

"Go you then to the signal-halyards--let one end fly