Some terrible convulsion must have shaken the huge mass to its centre, to have made such a rift.

At the bottom ran a stream, looking from this height like little more than a silver thread.

Shrubs and low flowering things were waving all the way down the sides of the abyss, as if nature had done her best to fill up the ugly wound.

Many feet below them, on a projecting rock, waved one little white blossom, so fragile it seemed as if each swaying motion in the breeze must sever it from the stem.
"Oh, see the dainty, brave little thing!" exclaimed Mercy.

"It looks as if it were almost alone in space." "I will get it for you," said Stephen; and, before Mercy could speak to restrain him, he was far down the precipice.