Now think of her! Now think of her!" And as she spoke she pressed him backwards towards his fall.

He had power enough to bend his knee, and to crouch beneath her grasp on to the loose crumbling soil of the margin of the rocks.

He still held her by her cuff and it seemed for a moment as though she must go with him.

But, on a sudden, she spurned him with her foot on the breast, the rag of cloth parted in his hand, and the poor wretch tumbled forth alone into eternity.
That was the end of Frederic Neville, Earl of Scroope, and the end, too, of all that poor girl's hopes in this world.

When you stretch yourself on the edge of those cliffs and look down over the abyss on the sea below it seems as though the rocks were so absolutely perpendicular, that a stone dropped with an extended hand would fall amidst the waves.
But in such measurement the eye deceives itself, for the rocks in truth slant down; and the young man, as he fell, struck them again and again; and at last it was a broken mangled corpse that reached the blue waters below.
Her Kate was at last avenged.