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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Malcolm"

She gave
a shriek of terror, and laid hold of the broken wall. To heighten
her dismay to the limit of mortal endurance, she found at the very
first effort, partly, no doubt, from the paralysis of fear, that
it was impossible to reascend; and there she lay on the verge of
the steeper slope, her head and shoulders in the inner of the two
chambers, and the rest of her body in the outer, with the hideous
vacancy staring at her. In a few moments it had fascinated her so
that she dared not close her eyes lest it should leap upon her.
The wonder was that she did not lose her consciousness, and fall
at once to the bottom of the cliff.
Her cry brought her father in terror to the top of the slope.
"Are you hurt, child?" he cried, not seeing the danger she was in.
"It's so steep, I can't get up again," she said faintly.
"I'll soon get you up," he returned cheerily, and began to descend.
"Oh, papa!" she cried, "don't come a step nearer. If you should
slip, we should go to the bottom of the rock together. Indeed,
indeed, there is great danger! Do run for Malcolm."
Thoroughly alarmed, yet mastering the signs of his fear, he enjoined
her to keep perfectly still while he was gone, and hurried to the
little window. Thence he shouted to the men below, but in vain,
for the wind prevented his voice from reaching them. He rushed from
the vaults, and began to descend at the first practicable spot he
could find, shouting as he went.
The sound of his voice cheered Florimel a little, as she lay
forsaken in her misery.


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