The night at Black Gang Chine was dreadful; the rain came down in torrents; and the wind rushed by in such furious gusts that the slight fancy building they were in shook to its foundation. The Mertons had a double-bedded room, but none of them slept much; and once, when the house absolutely rocked, from the violence of the wind, Mrs. Merton rose, and throwing a dressing-gown round her, she knelt by the side of Agnes’s little bed, and took the poor child’s cold and trembling hand in her own, till Agnes, soothed and comforted by the pressure of her mother’s hand, at last fell asleep.
Mrs. Merton, herself, however, could not sleep, and she lay counting the tedious hours till the break of day, when she arose weary and unrefreshed.
The morning was extremely beautiful; and even the dark and gloomy hills of the Chine looked less fearful in the bright rays of the early sun. Mrs. Merton dressed herself, and was just going down stairs, when Agnes woke and begged her to wait for her. Mrs. Merton consented, and as soon as the little girl was ready they went down to the room in which they had sat the night before; one of the windows was open, but Agnes had no longer any pleasure in running out under the veranda; and she shuddered at the sight of the rocks, though the sea, which curled gently round them, at a depth of above five hundred feet below the situation of the inn, was now as smooth as glass. She could not even pat the black dog she had been so fond of the day before, and she sat on the sofa with her back to the window, while Mrs. Merton rang the bell to ask the waiter what had become of the sufferers of the night before. The account was unfavourable. The young fisherman was dead; and the Londoner, though alive, lay in a very enfeebled state, and his complete recovery was considered doubtful. Even the poor dog appeared to have sustained some severe internal injury, for it had refused its food, and seemed in great pain. A doctor had been sent for from Niton; but the young man had not yet been able to speak to tell where they could write to his friends. Neither Mrs. Merton nor Agnes felt inclined to walk out before breakfast; though, previously to their unfortunate visit to the Chine, they had intended to visit the medicinal spring, and to taste some of its nauseous waters. Now, however, they were only anxious to quit the place; and they were quite delighted to see Mr. Merton walk into the room a few minutes after they had finished their inquiries. Breakfast was immediately ordered, but not so easily obtained—first, there was no milk, and next the butter had to be sent for; then the cook had boiled only one egg, and the others had to be waited for;—till, with all this waiting and sending, the coffee became cold, and all the comfort of the breakfast was destroyed. To complete the whole, the waiter, who was a most respectable-looking person, and had the air of an old soldier, appeared so anxious to oblige them that it was impossible to scold him; and even the landlady was so civil, and so sorry for the delay, that nobody could blame her.
“What an uncomfortable breakfast!” cried Agnes, when they rose from table.
“And yet every thing was good of its kind,” said Mrs. Merton.
“But something must have been wrong,” said Agnes; “for I never saw so much trouble in getting a breakfast before; and yet we had nothing different to what we have in general. What can have been wanting?”
“Management and arrangement,” said Mrs. Merton. “When I ordered breakfast, the waiter ought to have told me that there was neither milk nor butter in the house; and we should then have waited till all was ready, before we sat down, and our coffee would have been kept near the fire till it was wanted. Remember, Agnes, if ever you should have to act as a housekeeper, that you can never make a family comfortable unless you exercise your forethought and judgment, so as to provide every thing that is likely to be wanted beforehand. I do not mean to recommend you to have a profusion of anything; for it is a common fault with young housekeepers to provide too abundantly; but I hope you will always take care to have a sufficient quantity of the common articles of food ready in the house; as nothing can more decidedly show bad management than to have to send out for anything required for a meal after that meal is served.”
The carriage being now ready, they drove along the road which led to the Undercliffe; and soon lost sight of the horrible Black Gang Chine. This remarkable part of the Island has been formed by a landslip,—or, rather, a succession of landslips; from the effects of which, a considerable portion of land has slipped or settled down from the lofty cliffs called St. Catherine’s Down, so as to form a sort of intermediate cliff between the down and the sea. The summit of the Undercliffe forms a fine terrace about six or eight miles long, and from a quarter of a mile to a mile broad, along which the road is carried, with St. Catherine’s Cliffs frowning above, and the remains, into which it was partly shattered by its fall, lying between it and the sea, and assuming a thousand fantastic shapes. The terrace is bordered with villas, shaded by trees, which grow with the greatest luxuriance and beauty; in some cases even down to the water’s edge. Many of the cliffs, however, which face the sea rise from sixty to a hundred feet above it, and these are crowned by the road; but, in other cases, the road is thrown to some distance back, and villas are erected among the broken rocks between it and the sea. During the whole length of the terrace, it is sheltered from the north by a bold line of rocks, rising from two hundred to three hundred feet above it; which, in some places, form a kind of wall composed of horizontal beds of sandstone, and, in others, a less abrupt slope covered with green sward. Agnes was very much interested in this singular region, and began conversing with her papa on the causes of this remarkable convulsion of nature. “Is it supposed to have been occasioned by an earthquake or a volcano?” asked she.
“No,” replied Mr. Merton; “the cause is supposed to be the numerous beautiful little springs, which you will see presently, meandering among the fallen rocks; sometimes collecting into little pools, and sometimes forming miniature cascades, in their progress towards the sea. The springs, it is thought, formerly flowed under this sunken cliff, and must have melted some of the softer under strata, which being washed away, the upper part would gradually sink down, as we see it has done.”
“Is it long since the fall took place?”