"He went over the cliff in search of a nosegay to offer to yourself, and--and--I fear--greatly fear--" "What, father ?" demanded Mildred, in a voice of horror, the rich color disappearing from a face which it left of the hue of death.
"No--no--no--he _cannot_ have fallen." Dutton bent his head down, drew a long breath, and then seemed to gain more command of his nerves.

He was about to rise, when the sound of a horse's feet was heard, and then Sir Wycherly Wychecombe, mounted on a quiet pony, rode slowly up to the signal-staff.

It was a common thing for the baronet to appear on the cliffs early in the morning, but it was not usual for him to come unattended.

The instant her eyes fell on the fine form of the venerable old man, Mildred, who seemed to know him well, and to use the familiarity of one confident of being a favourite, exclaimed-- "Oh! Sir Wycherly, how fortunate--where is Richard ?" "Good morrow, my pretty Milly," answered the baronet, cheerfully; "fortunate or not, here I am, and not a bit flattered that your first question should be after the groom, instead of his master.

I have sent Dick on a message to the vicar's.