"Still, you would be glad to have the connection severed?"

"Oh yes, I should be glad enough to be away; but what would become of my mother and the children?"

"Remember your oldest friends are on their way home; and I will try to speak to Mr. White myself."

They had reached the little door of Kalliope"s office, which she could open with a latch-key, and Miss Mohun was just about to say some parting words, when there was a sudden frightful rumbling sound, something between a clap of thunder and the carting of stones, and the ground shook under their feet, while a cry went up--loud, horror-struck men and women"s voices raised in dismay.

Jane had heard that sound once before. It was the fall of part of the precipitous cliff, much of which had been quarried away. But in spite of all precautions, frost and rain were in danger of loosening the remainder, and wire fences were continually needing to be placed to prevent the walking above on edges that might be perilous.

Where was it? What had it done? was the instant thought. Kalliope turned as pale as death; the girls came screaming and thronging out of their workshop, the men from their sheds, the women from the cottages, as all thronged to the more open s.p.a.ce beyond the buildings where they could see, while Miss Mohun found herself clasped by her trembling niece.

Others were rushing up from the wharf. One moment"s glance showed all familiar with the place that a projecting point, forming a sort of cusp in the curve of the bay, had gone, and it lay, a great shattered ma.s.s, fragments spreading far and wide, having crashed through the roof of a stable that stood below.

There was a general crowding forward to the spot, and crying and exclamation, and a shouting of "All right" from above and below. Had any one come down with it? A double horror seized Miss Mohun as she remembered that her cousin was to inspect those parts that very afternoon.

She caught at the arm of a man and demanded, "Was any one up there?"

"Master"s there, and some gentlemen; but they hain"t brought down with it," said the man. "Don"t be afraid, miss. Thank the Lord, no one was under the rock--horses even out at work."

"Thank G.o.d, indeed!" exclaimed Miss Mohun, daring now to look up, and seeing, not very distinctly, some figures of men, who, however, were too high up and keeping too far from the dangerous broken edge for recognition.

Room was made for the two ladies, by the men who knew Miss Mohun, to push forward, so as to have a clearer view of the broken wall and roof of the stable, and the great ruddy blue and white veined ma.s.s of limestone rock, turf, and bush adhering to what had been the top.

There was a moment"s silence through the crowd, a kind of awe at the spectacle and the possibilities that had been mercifully averted.

Then one of the men said--

"That was how it was. I saw one of them above--not Stebbing--No--coming out to the brow; and after this last frost, not a doubt but that must have been enough to bring it down."

"Not railed off, eh?" said the voice of young Stebbing from among the crowd.

"Well, it were marked with big stones where the rail should go," said another. "I know, for I laid "em myself; but there weren"t no orders given."

"There weren"t no stones either. Some one been and took "em away," added the first speaker.

"I see how it is," Frank Stebbing"s metallic voice could plainly be heard, flavoured with an oath. "This is your neglect, White, droning, stuck-up sneak as you always were and will be! I shall report this.

Damage to property, and maybe life, all along of your confounded idleness."

And there were worse imprecations, which made Miss Mohun break out in a tone of shocked reproof--

"Mr. Stebbing!"

"I beg your pardon, Miss Mohun; I was not aware of your presence--"

"Nor of a Higher One," she could not help interposing, while he went on justifying himself.

"It is the only way to speak to these fellows; and it is enough to drive one mad to see what comes of the neglect of a conceited young a.s.s above his business. Life and property--"

"But life is safe, is it not?" she interrupted with a shudder.

"Ay, ay, ma"am," said the voice of the workman, "or we should know it by this time."

But at that moment a faint, gasping cry caught Jane"s ear.

Others heard it too. It was a child"s voice, and grew stronger after a moment. It came from the corner of the shed outside the stable.

"Oh, oh!" cried the women, pressing forward, "the poor little Fields!"

Then it was recollected that Mrs. Field--one of those impracticable women on whom the shafts of school officers were lost, and who was always wandering in the town--had been seen going out, leaving two small children playing about, the younger under the charge of the elder. The father was a carter, and had been sent on some errand with the horses.

This pa.s.sed while anxious hands were struggling with stones and earth, foremost among them Alexis White. The utmost care was needful to prevent the superinc.u.mbent weight from falling in and crushing the life there certainly was beneath, happily not the rock from above, but some of the debris of the stable. Frank Stebbing and the foreman had to drive back anxious crowds, and keep a clear s.p.a.ce.

Then came running, shrieking, pushing her way through the men, the poor mother, who had to be forcibly withheld by Miss Mohun and one of the men from precipitating herself on the pile of rubbish where her children were buried, and so shaking it as to make their destruction certain.

Those were terrible moments; but when the mother"s voice penetrated to the children, a voice answered--

"Mammy, mammy get us out, there"s a stone on Tommy,"--at least so the poor woman understood the lispings, almost stifled; and she shrieked again, "Mammy"s coming, darlings!"

The time seemed endless, though it was probably only a few minutes before it was found that the children were against the angle of the shed, where the wall and a beam had protected the younger, a little girl of five, who seemed to be unhurt. But, alas! though the boy"s limbs were not crushed, a heavy stone had fallen on his temple.

The poor woman would not believe that life was gone. She disregarded the little one, who screamed for mammy and clutched her skirts, in spite of the attempts of the women to lift her up and comfort her; and gathering the poor lifeless boy in her arms, she alternately screamed for the doctor and uttered coaxing, caressing calls to the child.

She neither heard nor heeded Miss Mohun, with whom, indeed, her relations had not been agreeable; and as a young surgeon, sniffing the accident from afar, had appeared on the scene, and had, at the first glance, made an all too significant gesture, Jane thought it safe to leave the field to him and a kind, motherly, good neighbour, who promised her to send up to Beechcroft Cottage in case there was anything to be done for the unhappy woman or the poor father. Mr. Hablot, who now found his way to the spot, promised to walk on and prepare him: he was gone with a marble cross to a churchyard some five miles off.

Gillian had not spoken a word all this time. She felt perfectly stunned and bewildered, as if it was a dream, and she could not understand it.

Only for a moment did she see the bleeding face and p.r.o.ne limbs of the poor boy, and that sent a shuddering horror over her, so that she felt like fainting; but she had so much recollection and self-consciousness, that horror of causing a sensation and giving trouble sent the blood back to her heart, and she kept her feet by holding hard to her aunt"s arm and presently Miss Mohun felt how tight and trembling was the grasp, and then saw how white she was.

"My dear, we must get home directly," she said kindly. "Lean on me--there."

There was leisure now, as they turned away, for others to see the young lady"s deadly paleness, and there were invitations to houses and offers of all succours at hand, but the dread of "a fuss" further revived Gillian, and all that was accepted was a seat for a few moments and a gla.s.s of water, which Aunt Jane needed almost as much as she did.

Though the girl"s colour was coming back, and she said she could walk quite well, both had such aching knees and such shaken limbs that they were glad to hold by each other as they mounted the sloping road, and half-way up Gillian came to a sudden stop.

"Aunt Jane," she said, panting and turning pale again, "you heard that dreadful man. Oh! do you think it was true? Fergus"s bit of spar--Alexis not minding. Oh! then it is all our doing!"

"I can"t tell. Don"t you think about it now," said Aunt Jane, feeling as if the girl were going to swoon on the spot in the shock. "Consequences are not in our hands. Whatever it came from, and very sad it was, there was great mercy, and we have only to thank G.o.d it was no worse."

When at last aunt and niece reached home, they had no sooner opened the front door than Adeline came almost rushing out of the drawing-room.

"Oh! my dearest Jane," she cried, clasping and kissing her sister, "wasn"t it dreadful? Where were you? Mr. White knows no one was hurt below, but I could not be easy till you came in."

"Mr. White!"

"Yes; Mr. White was so kind as to come and tell me--and about Rotherwood."

"What about Rotherwood?" exclaimed Miss Mohun, advancing into the drawing-room, where Mr. White had risen from his seat.

"Nothing to be alarmed about. Indeed, I a.s.sure you, his extraordinary presence of mind and agility--"