y the name of cliff, fall
back to a gaping chasm, a sheer horror of depths, misty and
unfathomable. Onward slides the thick cloud, and soon the deep-mouthed
monotone of the fog-horns in the distance tells it is in the bay. There
is nothing commonplace about the Newport cliff in a fog; it is wild
enough and dreary enough then, for the scene of a bad deed. You might
meet the souls of the lost in such a fog, hiding before the wrath to
come.

Late on Tuesday afternoon Claudius and Margaret had taken their way
towards the cliff, a solitary couple at that hour on a week-day. Even at
a distance there was something about their appearance that distinguished
them from ordinary couples. Claudius's great height seemed still more
imposing now that he affected the garb of civilisation, and Margaret had
the air of a woman of the great world in every movement of her graceful
body, and in every fold of her perfect dress. American women, when they
dress well, dress better than any other women in the world; but an
American woman who has lived at the foreign courts is unapproachable. If
there had been any one to see these two together on Tuesday afternoon,
there would have been words of envy, malice, and hatred. As it was, they
were quite alone on the cliff walk.

Margaret was happy; there was light in her eyes, and a faint warm flush
on her dark cheek. A closed parasol hung from her hand, having an ivory
handle carved with an "M" and a crown--the very one that three months
ago had struck the first spark of their acquaintance from the stones of
the old Schloss at Heidelberg--perhaps she had brought it on purpose.
She was happy still, for she did not know that Claudius was going away,
though he had brought her out here, away from every one, that he might
tell her. But they had reached the cliff and had walked some distance in
the direction of the point, and yet he spoke not. Something tied his
tongue, and he would have spoken if he could, but his words seemed too
big to come out. At last they came to a place where a quick descent
leads from the path down to the sea. A little sheltered nook of sand and
stones is there, all irregular and rough, like the lumps in brown sugar,
and the lazy sea splashed a little against some old pebbles it had known
for a long time, never having found the energy to wash them away. The
rocks above overhung the spot, so that it was entirely shielded from the
path, and the rocks below spread themselves into a kind