Her ascent seemed very slow, as I gazed. I began to realise how much steeper and loftier those heights were than we two had imagined.
But Thyrza went on, sometimes pausing, sometimes turning to right or left, as if choosing her steps. At present she showed no inclination to come back.
I observed her movements steadily, wondering how much farther she would go. Her last words had been—"Perhaps I shall have had enough of it half-way up." She appeared now to be more than half-way up, but there were no signs that she had had enough of it. Hardly probable that she should. If the enthusiasm of climbing had possession of her, she would scarcely rest content short of the summit.
The little black figure still rose,—more and more like a big ant clinging to the wall of a house; or I thought so.
All at once she came to a pause. I judged that she had mounted somewhere about three-quarters of the height from my level: but it is very difficult to judge truly, looking upward. For some minutes she remained perfectly still. I supposed her to be resting: yet it seemed a curious spot to choose for a rest.
I was growing rather nervous at her prolonged fixity in one position, when I distinctly saw her move. She seemed to crawl a few paces to the right, and there to pause afresh. At all events, she could start again, when she chose. That set my mind at ease. It seemed likely that she saw the last piece to be too much for her powers: and that after a brief repose she would come down.
"Time enough too," I said aloud; and my voice sounded strange in the solitude. "This takes longer than I calculated on. We ought to be getting homeward."
Then, curiously, it flashed into my mind that I had an unread letter with me. Why not wile away some minutes by reading it, as I sat there?
I pulled out the black-edged envelope, which was a good deal crumpled; and noticed the London postmark. "Not Bath!" I said, with momentary surprise. And one look at the agitated uneven handwriting showed me that it was not Ellen Smyth's,—but—Miss Millington's! Strange that I had not recognised it at first sight; only hers, as I had known it previously, was neither agitated nor uneven, but neat and precise to a fault.
Within were two sheets, blotted, blurred, and closely filled.