"Yes. I suppose it has never occurred to you, Miss Stillwater, that this passion for exploring, in a man of my settled years—Miss Stillwater, I beg of you to be careful, remember it is five hundred feet. This passion for exploring might exist only for want of another interest—a dear and sacred interest—most men of my age possess. Life has withheld from me, so far—it's most precious gift. I shall hold it the sweeter when bestowed. Do you find it interesting to peer into the depths, Miss Stillwater?"
"Very! They say—"
"Yes, what do they say?"
"That if you look into them long enough, here at the Devil's Pulpit, you are seized with an impulse to throw yourself in."
"Dear me; well, I have no fear for you at present. But I shall take care you do not come here unaccompanied. What you have told me, however, is a fact which has been often proved. Whether it is a rocky precipice, five hundred feet of water, or a human soul—the depths have a dangerous fascination. Are you afraid, Miss Stillwater? Don't you wish to leave this dangerous spot?"
"I want my story, first."
"You will persist in peering into the depths—beware of them!"
"I'm not afraid."
"No, I don't think you are."
"Well, the story."