“I cannot bear to look at that cliff,” said Elfride. “It has a horrid personality, and makes me shudder. We will go.”
“Can you climb?” said Knight. “If so, we will ascend by that path over the grim old fellow’s brow.”
“Try me,” said Elfride disdainfully. “I have ascended steeper slopes than that.”
From where they had been loitering, a grassy path wound along inside a bank, placed as a safeguard for unwary pedestrians, to the top of the precipice, and over it along the hill in an inland direction.
“Take my arm, Miss Swancourt,” said Knight.
“I can get on better without it, thank you.”
When they were one quarter of the way up, Elfride stopped to take breath. Knight stretched out his hand.
She took it, and they ascended the remaining slope together. Reaching the very top, they sat down to rest by mutual consent.
“Heavens, what an altitude!” said Knight between his pants, and looking far over the sea. The cascade at the bottom of the slope appeared a mere span in height from where they were now.
Elfride was looking to the left. The steamboat was in full view again, and by reason of the vast surface of sea their higher position uncovered it seemed almost close to the shore.