Holding the light in his right hand, Lance gave his left to Blanche, and they cautiously resumed their way. The ledge along which they were passing was about six feet wide; but a yard or two further on it narrowed abruptly, leaving a path barely twelve inches in breadth. It continued thus for a length of some twenty feet, and then widened out abruptly again, apparently to the full width of the passage. It seemed, in short, as though the terrible chasm terminated at this point.
Luckily, Lance was the first to see it, and his resolution was at once taken. He dropped the lighted paper as if by accident, and extinguished it by setting his foot upon it. He knew that if his companion caught so much as a single momentary glimpse of the short but frightfully perilous passage she would have to make, her nerve would utterly fail her, and too probably a dreadful catastrophe would happen. So he resolved upon the hazardous attempt to get her past the danger blindfold.
“Tut! what a clumsy fellow I am!” he exclaimed pettishly, as though in reference to his having dropped the lighted paper. “Now I shall have to expend another match. But, Blanche, your nerves are still unsteady; the sight of this threatening gulf is too much for you. I think you would do better blindfold. Give me your handkerchief, dear, and let me tie it over your eyes. I will remove it again as soon as we are past the chasm.”
“Thank you,” said Blanche. “I really believe I should feel better if the sight of that dreadful place were shut out. I can trust to your care and courage; but I confess with shame that, as far as I am concerned, I am thoroughly unnerved.”
Lance took the handkerchief which Blanche put into his hand, and bound it gently but firmly over her eyes, arranging it as well as he could in the darkness in such a manner as to make the blinding perfectly effectual.
He then led her cautiously forward a step or two until he felt with his outstretched foot the edge of the precipice, when, bidding her stand perfectly still and to cling firmly to the irregular surface of the rock, he once more lighted the short remaining end of paper, utilising its brief existence to note well the perilous path they had to tread.
“Now, sweetheart,” he said briskly, “do you feel better, and fit to go on?”
“Oh, yes,” was the reply, in a tone so bright and cheerful that Lance felt intensely relieved; and he forthwith set about the difficult task of getting his companion past the narrow ledge without further delay.
By the last expiring gleam of his short-lived taper, Lance took one more rapid glance at the terrible pass, and then, as the thick darkness once more closed round them, he said—
“Now, dear, you must be very cautious how you move. Keep close against the rock, and take a firm hold of any projections you can find. Do not move until you have a firm hold with both hands, nor without telling me of your intention, as I shall keep close to you and give you the support of my arm. And do not loose your hold of the rock with one hand until you have secured a firm grip with the other. Now, have you a tight hold? Then move gently along, side wise; and keep close to the rock.”