Stars shone in the deep purple sky; bright watchful eyes looking down unwearied upon the sleeping world.
The sound of the sea below fell from a roar to a murmur, and drew away into the distance.
It was a warm June night, and very still.
Jim Airth had moved along the ledge to the further end, and sat swinging his legs over the edge. His content was so deep and full, that ordinary speech seemed impossible; and silence, a glad necessity. The prospect of that which the future might hold in store, made the ledge too narrow to contain him. He sought relief in motion, and swung his long legs out into the darkness.
It had not occurred to him to wonder at his companion’s silence; the reason for his own had been so all-sufficient.
At length he struck a match to see the time; then, turning with a smile, held it so that its light illumined Myra.
She knelt upon the ledge, her hands pressed against the overhanging cliff, her head turned in terror away from it. Her face was ashen in its whiteness, and large tears rolled down her cheeks.
Jim dropped the match, with an exclamation, and groped towards her in the darkness.
“Dear!” he cried, “Oh, my dear, what is the matter? Selfish fool, that I am! I thought you were just resting, quiet and content.”
His groping hands found and held her.