I have a distinct recollection of so much. Then I think I must have lain stunned for half-a-minute. My first clear thought was of thankfulness at having escaped the black deep water, so awfully close.
"Not yet death!" flashed through my mind; and I said aloud, "How foolish I have been!"
Next I had a sense that I was very much hurt somewhere; but I thought I would get up; and when I tried to move an inch, the pain in my knee was so fearful, that I was obliged to desist at once.
I do not fancy I made any sound, for screaming is not at all in my line; but I did feel dismayed. The position was not an enviable one. I hoped that the pain might lessen soon; but it did not.
Then I recollected that I must try to make known where I was: and I called repeatedly—"Maggie!" "Denham!" "Help!" But there was no response. Indeed, I scarcely expected any. Even if the rest of my party had not already gone home without me,—and I began to feel sure that this must be the true state of the case,—they would content themselves easily with the conjecture that I might have started first alone, and would not search far. The woman in the cottage had very likely retired with her family for the night. Unless a passer-by came near the edge of Gurglepool, my voice from the depth would be unheard; and stray passers-by, on such a spot and at such an hour, were in the highest degree improbable.
I tried again to rise: but in vain. I tried to drag myself, crawling, to the path, only a yard or two off, but I could not. The least motion gave intolerable agony.
Darkness seemed to be coming all at once, in a rush. Outside Gurglepool, no doubt, it was pleasant twilight still; but I lay in black shadow; the straight rocky sides rising steeply for sixty feet or more, all around, in a circle broken only by the path. Small bushes sprouted out here and there from some tiny ledge; and overhead was a circular grey sky. That was all I could see. Dim light above, under the grey sky-roof; no light below. I could just make out the surface of the still water, near to my side. No sound or stir of life was to be heard.
It was strangely solemn to be there, all alone; fir from any human being; clear and calm in mind; but unable to stir.
While I kept absolutely still, the pain was so far bearable, that I could think. But the more I thought, the more I saw that I could do nothing, except endure passively until help should come. To climb the path was physically impossible.
Help of course would come in time:—but when?