Clive made no reply, but knelt down panting and enraged against the weakness which kept him there supine, when, in spite of all, he would have given a dozen years of his life to have been able to descend and bear the poor girl up to a place of safety.
But he could only gaze down giddily with heart beating as he watched the Major slowly and carefully descending, now making good progress, now slipping or sending down a loose stone. Once they saw him hanging only by his hands, again losing his footing and seeming to be gone. The next minute, though, he was still descending, and in the silence of the mountain side, they could hear his words, short, sharp, and decisive, as he called to his child, bidding her be of good heart, for he would be with her directly; and that she would be safe.
Then, to Clive’s horror and despair, he saw the starting eyes which had looked up so wildly, gradually close, and the sun gleamed on them no more. He knew only too well what it meant; that Dinah was turning faint and weak; and once more unable to bear the agony, he made a rapid movement to descend.
“Madman!” cried the Doctor, and he flung himself upon Clive, mastering him directly, for the sudden strength flickered away at once. “Don’t you see,” he panted, “you cannot do it, and your fall would be destruction to them both. Keep still and silent. The Major will reach her directly. Yes: look: he is as active as a goat. Ah! great God! No: saved—he has her!”
The Doctor shrank away unable to bear it, for as they stared below with dilated eyes they saw Dinah begin to glide downward just as her father was steadying himself, holding on by one hand to a tough root. Then he seemed to make a dart with the other, and his child suddenly became stationary while he shifted his position, got his feet against a piece of rock, and they saw him draw her up to his side and hold her there.
The rest of that scene was dreamlike to Clive, as he lay with his breast over the edge looking down, till nerved and urged on by her father’s strong will, Dinah seemed to recover, and began to climb up under his directions and with his help, step by step, and inch by inch, till at last she was so close that Clive stretched out his hands to help her, while the Major supported her from below. But their eyes met, and she did not touch those hands, but gave her wet and bleeding fingers to the Doctor, who drew her into safety on the path, where she rose now to stand shivering while the Major sprang to her side.
“I did not think I could have done it,” he panted. “Oh, Dinah, my child, don’t say you threw yourself down there.”
“No,” she said, giving him a piteous look, and then turning slowly to face Clive. “I went down to fetch this—to give to Clive Reed before he left us for ever. I thought it must be there.”
She took from her breast, where it had evidently been thrust, a stained scrap of reddish paper, made more ruddy where she held it, for her fingers bled freely.
“A telegram,” cried the Doctor.