"'Tis a water-sprite, my lord, that's what it be," said the man, coming in.
"Tush, man! 'tis some one in pain, who hath fallen over the cliff maybe. Stay with the child while I go and see."
Taking the torch in his hand, the knight went to the entrance, the girl and seaman following him close.
It was a weird scene, as the lurid light of the flickering torch shone on the wall of rock opposite, while the inky blackness of the gorge, yawning at their very feet, caused a shudder to pass through the child as she thought how near they all were to a fearful death.
"Holy saints!" a faint voice gasped, in awe-struck accents; "are these spirits or fiends? and have I fallen to the bottomless pit?"
"'Tis as I thought," said the knight. "'Tis some poor wight fallen down, and, by some marvel, he hath lighted on the only ledge that could save him. 'Tis the hand of Providence hath saved him from rolling into that black pit." Then he added, in a louder tone,--"Art hurt, man? Canst stand upon thy feet? Who art thou?"
No answer came. All was silent as the grave.
"Put the plank over, Simon; I will go see who it is."
In a few moments the plank was put across.
"Oh, father, take care! Maybe 'tis a trap to catch thee!" cried the girl in terror.