The perspiration broke out in great drops upon Mark Eden's face; and for
some minutes he hung there, expecting moment by moment that each was his
last, for he knew that he could do nothing, and that he must not stir
hand or foot.
And now he began to realise how mad his attempt had been. Better far
that he had resigned himself to circumstances, and climbed back to the
top. But even then he felt he could not have done this. It would have
been like humbling himself to an enemy of his house, and a flush of
pride came into his pallid cheeks as he felt that he had boldly played
his part. Then a sense of misery and despair crept over him as he
thought of home, of his father and sister, and their sorrow when they
knew of his fate.
All that passed off, and a flush of anger and indignation made his
temples throb, for he distinctly heard Nick Garth say,--
"Why not? Heave it down yourself, then, and put him out of his misery."
What else was said he could not make out; voices were in hurried
converse evidently a short distance back from the edge of the cliff, and
then Mark recognised Ralph's tones, as he said huskily,--
"Can you hold on?"