“‘Nonsense!’ he said, roughly; ‘do you think I’m a baby, that can’t take care of myself?’
“My mother said nothing; my sister looked at her lover with an imploring glance. I shall never forget it; there was both entreaty and despair in her eyes. He hesitated a moment, but my father was already out of the door, and loudly calling on him to follow.
“‘I’ll be back again in a few minutes,’ he said; ‘it won’t do to cross your father to-night.’
“Ah, those few minutes! She went to the door. It was a most lovely night; there was a flood of moonlight poured out upon land and sea. All that God had made was as beautiful as if sin had never spoiled it. Just a little to the right of our cottage the ground rose up suddenly, and sloped up about a quarter of a mile to the top of a high cliff, from the edge of which was a sheer descent, almost unbroken, to the beach, of several hundred feet. It was a favourite spot of observation, for vessels could be seen miles off.
“My sister watched her father and lover in the clear moonlight to the top. There they stood for about half an hour, and then they turned. But which way? Home? It seemed so at first—the young man was plainly hesitating. At last he yielded to my father’s persuasion, and both disappeared over the farther side of the high ground. My unhappy sister, with a wild cry of distress, came back into the cottage, and threw herself sobbing into a chair.
“‘Oh, mother, mother!’ she cried, ‘they’re off again—they’re gone to the public-house; father’ll be the death of him, body and soul.’
“My mother made no answer. She could not speak. She had no comfort to offer. She knew that my wretched father was the tempter. She knew that there was nothing but misery before her child.
“Oh, what a weary night that was! We sat for hours waiting, listening. At last we heard the sound of voices—two voices were shouting out snatches of sea-songs with drunken vehemence. We didn’t need any one to tell us whose voices they were. My sister started up and rushed out. I followed her, and so did my mother. We could see now my father and the young man, sharp and clear in the moonlight, arm in arm at the top of the cliff. They were waving their arms about and shouting, as they swayed and staggered to and fro. Then they went forward towards the edge, and tried to steady themselves as they looked in the direction of the sea.
“‘They’ll be over!’ shrieked my sister; ‘oh, let us try and save them!’
“My mother sank senseless on the ground. For a moment my sister seemed as if she would do the same. Then she and I rushed together towards the cliff at the top of our speed. We could just see the two poor miserable drunkards staggering about for a little while, but then a sinking in the ground, as we hurried on, hid them from our sight. A few minutes more and we were on the slope at the top, but where were they? They were gone—where? I dared not let my sister go forward, but I could hardly hold her, till at last she sank down in a swoon. And then I made my way to the top of the cliff, and my blood seemed to freeze in my veins as I looked over. There they were on the rocks below, some hundred and fifty feet down. I shouted for help; some of the neighbours had seen us running, and now came to my relief. I left a kind woman with my unhappy sister, and hurried with some fishermen the nearest way to the beach. It was sickening work climbing to the place on to which my miserable father and his companion had pitched in their fall. Alas! they were both dead when we reached them, and frightfully mangled. I can hardly bear to go on,” and the captain’s voice faltered, “and yet I must complete my story. We made a sort of large hammock, wrapped them in it, and by the help of some poles carried them up to our cottage. It was terrible work. My sister did not shed a tear for days, indeed I scarcely ever saw her shed a tear at all; but she pined away, and a few short months closed her sad life.”