page 55

Chapter IX.

O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free;
Far as the breeze can bear the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home.

—Byron.

Meanwhile, in what way has time passed over the heads of Harry's cousins? Have these weeks, so full of meaning, and fraught with events bearing such danger to him, been mere breezes of circumstance to Lizzie and her sister?

Of course, they had no knowledge of the occurrences at the office, and Harry's duties prevented him giving much time to them. Save for an occasional Saturday afternoon picnic, or a long walk on Sunday, they saw nothing of him alone. The three young people frequently spent Saturday afternoon at St. Clair, and Flora had so far overcome her moodiness and chagrin at the relations of her sister and cousin, that she was able to join them in rambling excursions on the rocks and beach, and take an interest in the discovery of shells and seaweed. On one of these occasions Lizzie suggested that they should climb the rocks known as the “Cliffs”—a high, steep, rugged, and almost barren, promontory, overhanging where the rushing waves dashed wildly and majestically upon the rocks, with which the beach is studded. These rocks are covered at high water; but when the tide is out, leave only occcasional channels through which the water pours with swelling force, swaying to and fro the heavy marine growth of kelp and seaweed.

page 56

Flora declined to accompany the others on this exploit. She said she would wait at the bottom of the cliff until they returned. Lizzie was not very anxious for her sister's company in the climb, and consequently did not press her. Flora sat down on a rock under the cliff, and was soon deeply engrossed in the pages of the latest number of the Family Herald.

Harry and Lizzie then began the ascent of the cliff. It proved harder work than they had anticipated. However, by dint of great care, and resting frequently, they soon made considerable progress up the face of the hill. On, on they went up the cliff, then to its summit, where they sat and gazed far out upon the sea. The ocean's bosom moved slowly as with the pulsation of a regular breathing. All seemed quiet and tranquil, as if in its inmost heart the huge Pacific was at peace with all the universe.

It gave no token of the resistless fury of which it is capable, and save where it fringed the shore, signs only of serenity existed. Taking an omen from their peaceful surroundings, the lovers sat and gazed in silence on the heaving waters—gazed away into the distance and futurity. Calmness only in their environment, what wonder that joy and peace were in their hearts; that hope held sway in the breasts of both; and that no clouds seemed to overhang the horizon of their love.

To the right were the verdant slopes of the hill once covered with beautiful Native bush, now the pasture ground of many a dairy farm. The ruthless destructive hand of man had been at work, clearing from the face of the earth monuments of Nature's handiwork.

To the left was the long stretch of beach which formed such a delightful promenade for Dunedin citizens, and the magnificent breathing place which no enterprising engineer can ever destroy. Beyond that, the evergreen Peninsula, page 57 where again, trees which Nature had been long years in providing fell before the axe and fire of the settlers. Man is nothing, if not destructive. The ordinary pioneer sees no utility in trees which Nature has taken so much time to place there: down they must come to make way for the spade and the plough. Axe and fire are set to work, and land is cleared even to the last tree, so that crops may grow and cows may graze where it stood. To have left anything standing that the hand of man could lay low would be leaving his work incomplete; so that nothing remains to tell the tale or provide a shelter for man or beast.

Does the ordinary mortal ever consider the effect of his destruction; ever reflect that what takes him so short a time to destroy has been the work and care of Nature's providence far back into other years; that man may undo, but cannot create?

Then lying away to the west of where the lovers sat was the picturesque city they had left. Dunedin, the Edinburgh of the Antipodes, possesses beauties to charm lovers of scenery far beyond her parent of the Northern Hemisphere. While Edinburgh is rich in historical interest, her youthful Colonial daughter boasts the possession of natural beauties. The long, irregular bay, at the head of which the city is situated, is hemmed in by gently sloping hills, clad with natural forest, where the hand of man has not displaced that by fertile fields or modest Colonial residences, and extends from the Port of Otago for eight or nine miles westwards, until it is merely separated from the ocean by a narrow neck of low-lying sandy soil.

Skirting the head of this long bay, the town is built from there up the slopes of many hills, extending upwards and outwards in several directions. The pioneers of this city made ample provision for recreation, and a large page 58 reserve, many hundreds of acres in extent, creeps round the more populous parts of the town. Beyond this, connected by numerous lines of cable and horse tramways, lie the suburban boroughs.

The majority of the business streets are formed on land which the hand of industrious man has reclaimed from the waters of the bay, and below these are the wharves, where intercolonial and coastal steamers are coming and going every day. To the eye of the stranger landing there for the first time, Dunedin presents the appearance of having outgrown its strength. Its palatial hotels and lofty warehouses seem more in keeping with a city of centuries in age. They are, however, only monuments of Colonial enterprise—not what the carping pessimist would sneer at as being built for show. Solid and substantial as its founders, Dunedin stands as a typical Colonial city, and an index of the improving tendency of the sturdy race to which it owes its being.

As they sat, the lovers discussed the scenery around them, the advantages of life by the seaside, and that never-ending topic of conversation—the weather.

Harry spoke of his experiences in his uncle's office, and of his liking for commercial pursuits. He was careful, however, not to refer in any way to the events of the last month or two, or to give any idea of the troubles through which he had gone.

After spending some time thus, Harry proposed that they should go still further up the hill and return by way of the road.

“It's much safer and easier,” said he.

“What! are you afraid to go back the way we came?”

“Afraid! no! but it's better not.”

“Better for you?” asked Lizzie, with a mischievous smile.

page 59

“No! better for you! It's not so easy to go down the hill as to come up.”

“Oh! I'm not afraid!” and Lizzie, as she spoke, rose hurriedly from her seat and started off down the cliff.

Harry called to her to stop; she waited for him to overtake her; then he tried hard to persuade her to come back by the road. More out of bravado—more to show him she was without fear, with nothing but a desire to tease him—she flatly refused. He must perforce give way, and so silently accompanied her on her return down the cliffs. For some distance descent was easy, but presently they found the face more difficult to negotiate than even Harry had imagined. Lizzie carried no encumbrances, so was able to make every use of her hands. Harry went first, and pointed out the most accessible way for her. Presently she sat down.

“I'll go no further; you shouldn't have brought me this way.”

“But, Lizzie, 'twas you compelled me to come.”

“Well, you shouldn't have followed me; you should have started by the road, and I would have followed you.”

This was an unanswerable assertion, so Harry remained silent and watched the breakers play upon the beach.

Presently he turned to his companion—

“Come, Lizzie, the sun is getting low. We must get homewards.”

Sulkily, but in silence, Lizzie obeyed. She saw that Harry was patient with her, and his patience and silence exasperated her. Again the descent proceeded. Neither spoke, but gave all their attention to the work in hand. A slight sudden breeze caught Lizzie's hat, and it went rolling down the cliff before them, rolling and jumping as if certain to reach the waters below. As it was carried from her head, Lizzie gave a startled scream, which drew page 60 her companion's attention to the accident; too late, however, to arrest the flight of the hat. It was carried down until it rested on the edge of the cliff overhanging the seething waves.

“Never mind, we'll reach it when we get down. Come along,” and Harry held out his hand towards his cousin.

Down again they went with increasing difficulty, but, under the care exercised by Harry, without accident or slip.

When they had neared the base of the cliff, Lizzie sat down, and said, “Now I'll wait here until you get my hat.”

“No. Come down first to where Flora is; I can get it easier from below.”

“Indeed I won't. I'll wait until you go for it, if I have to sit here all night. I'm tired, and won't go any further without a rest.”

Harry saw it was best to comply. To reach the hat was no easy matter, but he must needs try. Down he went towards the spot, carefully picking his way. Step by step he drew nearer to the hat. It was resting on a ledge near the bottom of the cliff where it overhung the rolling waters below. Firmly grasping the stones which formed his hold, he stooped over and got possession of the article he sought. Lizzie sat watching him, and as he neared the spot held her breath and closed her eyes with nervous apprehension that he was in danger. Opening her eyes again, she saw that he had grasped her hat. A throb of relief and satisfaction sped through her breast, and she felt that he was safe. She saw him rest a moment before turning to re-ascend; saw him move his hold of the stones and plant his foot firmly, as if to swing round where he stood; saw him grasp the jutting rock, and crouch, as if for a spring upwards. Then, oh! horror! the stone h page 61 held gave way, and before he could recover his balance he had fallen backwards on the face of the rock. With a wild scream Lizzie rose and strained every muscle of her body in the gaze towards her cousin as she saw him roll down the cliff towards the sea. Oh! Heaven! will nothing save him! Must he be hurled into eternity by this awful fall upon the rocks below? Her strained and terror-stricken vision saw him roll down, down the awful stones, down towards the end. Another dreadful scream rent the air as she saw him dash over the edge, and knew that he must be lost for ever in the rolling waters beneath. Shriek upon shriek was uttered as he disappeared from view.

Far above the din of the waters Lizzie's shrieks had been heard. Flora, seated on the rocks below, heard her sister's terrified screams. They awoke her to the dreadful reality of a possible accident, suggested to her that perhaps she could do something to avert the doom of anyone falling over the rocks above her. Starting up, Flora saw the form of her cousin fall over the cliff near the rock on which she stood. Instantly she prepared to render help. Fortunately Harry's fall had not been far; he was not hurt by the rocks, and in the water had all his senses about him. Where he fell, the water washed through a channel almost filled with a thick undergrowth of kelp. This broke the force of his fall, and buoyed him up in the water. Realising his position, he carefully nursed his strength, and awaited the next breaker which might carry him up the face of the rock. As the rolling water touched him he struck out on its summit, but could not reach the ledge. The wave merely tossed him further up amongst the kelp. To this he still clung with desperate hands. Flora saw his position. She had around her shoulders a stout woollen shawl. Could she reach him with that? Hurrying towards the edge of the rock she called to Harry page 62 to hold on firmly. He heard, and hope revived within him. Firmly grasping the corner of her shawl, she threw it from her as far as her strength aided her. Too short! Harry could not reach it. What could she do? The merciless waves were fast wearing out his strength, while by no unaided effort of his could he ever reach a place of safety. He called to Flora—

“Tear your shawl in strips, and tie them firmly together; it'll reach then.”

Flora obeyed him, and proceeded to tear the fabric. It was heavy and well-made, and required all her strength to rend it.

Harry called more feebly—

“Quick, Flora, quick; tie the knots firm.”

With nervous haste she proceeded. The shawl was torn into four strips and tied together.

Trembling with apprehension, Flora went towards the edge of the rock and again threw the end of the line towards Harry. Oh! horror! it still fell short. What could she do? All his efforts to reach it had been futile, and each succeeding wave seemed to leave him feebler than before. Presently a greater rush of water was heard, and Harry, glancing round, saw a breaker coming which must engulf him and dash him against the cruel rocks.

With a prayerful sigh he felt that he had looked his last upon the earth, and gave himself up to his doom. He felt himself rising on the crest of the water and impelled fiercely forward. He did not lose his presence of mind, but doubted if any chance of escape was possible. Before him, curling up in the foam, was a dark object at which he clutched as he was being driven madly past. This proved to be the end of Flora's shawl. She had watched it in the breaker, and dimly realised that Harry had grasped it. Holding firmly to the shawl, and planting her feet strongly on the ledge, she felt the line tighten. page 63 The big wave spent its strength upon the adjoining rock, and the water rushed back slowly. Harry had been borne against another bed of kelp, and was now receding with the body of water. With a frantic effort Flora held firmly to her life-line. It did not yield, and Harry's backward course was stayed. Getting clear of the avalanche of water, he was borne towards the rock on which Flora stood, and with her aid drawn up clear of the surrounding kelp, from which he was able to scramble up the rock, saved. The reaction overcame Flora, and she fainted by his side.

The interval between Flora's being seated quietly upon the rock reading her book and the moment when Harry saw her fall fainting as he scrambled from the water was only a few brief moments, but how full of events had it been—in less time than it takes the reader to scan the relation, her cousin had been hovering on the brink of a watery grave. The acts she had performed to save his life had been within the compass of a few deep breaths; yet what an eternity of events had been comprehended in those moments! The first throbbing of her consciousness, free from the excitement which had sustained her, was the signal for oblivion to come to her relief. As Harry realised that his cousin had fainted, weak though he was, he hurried to her aid. As he did so, Lizzie, ignorant of the danger she was in, and heedless of the difficulty, rushed down, she knew not how, over the cliff, and joined him. She, too, had come through a great danger; she, too, had been in peril of her life; her nerves were unstrung, and she gave way to tears and laughter—tears and laughter, twin children of a great joy,—for her lover's life had been spared to her; her maiden heart had escaped the widowhood of a desolation fraught with the awful reality that her mad foolish act had sent her lover to his death. Her waywardness had placed him in the danger from which her sister's coolness and courage had saved him.