“Yes?” came Jim Airth’s voice from behind her. “Yes? What? come in!—Hullo! Oh, I say!”
Myra smiled into the dawning. She had already come through those first moments of astonished realisation. But Jim Airth awoke to the situation more quickly than she had done.
“Hullo!” he said. “I meant to keep watch all the time; but I must have slept. Are you all right? Sure? No cramp? Well, I have a cramp in my left leg which will make me kick down the cliff in another minute, if I don’t move it. Let me help you up.... That’s the way. Now you sit safely there, while I get unwedged.... By Jove! I believe I’ve grown into the cliff, like a fossil ichthyosaurus. Did you ever see an ichthyosaurus? Doesn’t it seem years since you said: ‘And who is Davy Jones?’ Don’t you want some breakfast? I suppose it’s about time we went home.”
Talking gaily all the time, Jim Airth drew up his long limbs, rubbing them vigorously; stretched his arms above his head; then passed his hand over his tumbled hair.
“My wig!” he said. “What a morning! And how good to be alive!”
Myra stole a look at him. His eyes were turned seaward. The same dawn-light was in them, as shone in her own.
“Don’t you want breakfast?” said Jim Airth, and pulled out his watch.
“I do,” said Myra, gaily. “And now I can venture to tell you what delicious home-made bread I had for tea. What time is it, Jim?”
“Half past three. In a few minutes the sun will rise. Watch! Did you ever before see the dawn? Is it not wonderful? Always more of pearl and silver than at sunset. Look how the narrow rift has widened and spread right across the sky. The Monarch of Day is coming! See the little herald clouds, in livery of pink and gold. Now watch where the sea looks brightest. Ah!... There is the tip of his blood-red rim, rising out of the ocean. And how quickly the whole ball appears. Now see the rippling path of gold and crimson, a royal highway on the waters, right from the shore below us, to the footstool of his brilliant Majesty.... A new day has begun; and we have not said ‘Good-morning.’ Why should we? We did not say ‘Good-night.’ How ideal it would be, never to say ‘Good-morning’; and never to say ‘Good-night.’ The night would be always ‘good’, and so would the morning. All life would be one grand crescendo of good—better—best. What? Have we found the Best? Ah, hush! I did not mean to say that yet.... Are you ready for the climb down? No, I can’t allow any peeping over, and considering. If you really feel afraid of it, I will run to Tregarth as quickly as possible, rouse the sleeping village, bring ropes and men, and haul you up from the top.”
“I absolutely decline to be ‘hauled up from the top,’ or to be left here alone,” declared Lady Ingleby.