Stay yoursel then, an' I'll gae,» said the old man; «<let death spare the green corn and take the ripe.>> Stay both of you, I charge you,” said Isabella, faintly, « I am well, and can spend the night very well here--I feel quite refreshed; » so saying, her voice failed her-she sunk down, and would have fallen from the crag, had she not been supported by Lovel and Ochiltree, who placed her in a posture half sitting half reclining, beside her father, who, exhausted by fatigue of body and mind so extreme and unusual, had already sat. down on the stone in a sort of stupor. << It is impossible to leave them,» said Lovel << What is to be done?-Hark! hark!-Did Į not hear a halloo?»> « The skriegh of a Tammie Norie,»> answered Ochiltree, « I ken the skirl weel. >> << No, by Heaven,» replied Lovel, « it was a hu man voice! A distant hail was repeated, the sound plainly distinguishable among the various elemental noises, and the clang of the sea-mews by which they were surrounded. The mendicant and Lovel exerted their voices in a loud halloo, the former waving Miss Wardour's handkerchief on the end of his staff to make them conspicuous from above. Though the shouts were repeated, it was some time before they were in exact response to their own, leaving the unfortunate sufferers uncertain whether, in the darkening twilight and increasing storm, they could render the persons who ар, parently were traversing the verge of the precipice to bring them assistance, sensible ofthe place in which they had found refuge. At length their halloo was regularly and distinctly answered, and their courage confirmed, by the assurance that they were within hearing, if not within reach, of friendly assistance. CHAPTER VIII. There is a cliff, whose high and bending head And I'll repair the misery thou dost bear. THE shout of human voices from above was soon augmented, and the gleam of torches mingled with those lights of evening which still remained amidst the darkness of the storm. Some attempt was made to hold communication between the assistants above, and the sufferers beneath, who were still clinging to their precarious place of safety; but the howling of the tempest limited their intercourse to cries, as inarticulate as those of the winged denizens of the crag, which shrieked in chorus, alarmed by the reiterated sound of human voices, where they had seldom been heard. On the verge of the precipice an anxious group had now assembled. Oldbuck was the foremost and most earnest, pressing forward with unwonted desperation to the very brink of the crag, and extending his head (his hat and wig secured by a handkerchief under his chin) over the dizzy height, with an air of determination which made his more timorous assistants tremble. << Haud a care, haud a care, Monkbarns,>> cried Caxon, clinging to the skirts of his patron, and withholding him from danger as far as his strength permitted-« God's sake, haud a care! -Sir Arthur's drowned already, and an ye fa' ower the cleugh too, there will be but ae wig left in the parish, and that's the minister's.» << Mind the peak there,» cried Mucklebackit, an old fisherman and smuggler-« mind the peak-Steenie, Steenie Wilks, bring up the tackle -I'se warrant we'll sune heave them on board, Monkbarns, wad ye but stand out o' the gate. >> << I see thein," said Oldbuck, « I see them low down on that flat stone-Hilli-hilloa, hilli-ho-a!» * « I see them mysel weel aneugh,» said Mucklebackit, «< they are sitting down yonder like hoodiecraws in a mist; but d'ye think you'll help them wi' skirting that gate like an auld skart before a flaw o' weather?-Steenie, lad, bring up the mast - Odd, I'se hae them up as we used to bouse up the kegs o' gin and brandy lang syne -Get up the pick-axe, make a step for the mast Make the chair fast with the rattlin - haul taught and belay.» The fishers had brought with them the mast of a boat, and as half of the country fellows about had now appeared, either out of zeal or curiosity, it was soon sunk in the ground, and sufficiently secured. A yard, across the upright mast, and a rope stretched along it, and reeved through a block at each end, formed an extempore crane, which afforded the means of lowering an arm-chair, well secured and fastened, down to the flat shelf on which the sufferers had roosted. Their joy at hearing the preparations going on for their deliverance was considerably qualified, when they beheld the precarious vehicle, by means of which they were to be conveyed to upper air. It swung about a yard free of the spot which they occupied, obeying each impulse of the tempest, the empty air all around it, and depending upon the security of a rope, which, in the increasing darkness, had dwindled to an almost imperceptible thread. Besides the risk of committing a human being to the vacant atmosphere in such a slight means of conveyance, there was the fearful danger of the chair and its occupant being dashed, either by the wind or the vibrations of the cord, against the rugged face of the precipice. But to diminish the risk as much as possible, the experienced seamen had let down with the chair another line, which, being attached to it, and held by the persons beneath, might serve, by way of gy, as Mucklebackit expressed it, to render its ascent in some measure steady and regular. Still, to commit one's self in such a vehicle, through a howling tempest of wind and rain, with a beetling precipice above, and a raging abyss below, required that courage which despair alone can inspire. Yet wild as the sounds and sights of danger were, both above, beneath, and around, and |