Chapter 4 - Page 2

solid.'

"At last, when he saw it was no good warning me that way any longer,
he turned round to me rather sharply--he was a Tyrrel, you see, and
conscientious, as we all of us are--it runs in the blood somehow--'If
you don't mind for yourself, at least mind for others. Who can say who
may be walking underneath those rocks? If you let a loose stone fall
you may commit manslaughter.'

"I laughed, and thought ill of him. He was such a fidget! I was only a
boy. I considered him absurdly and unnecessarily particular. He had
stalked on a yard or two in front. I loitered behind, and out of pure
boyish deviltry, as I was just above Michael's Crag, I loosened some
stones with my foot and showered them over deliberately. Oh, heavens,
I feel it yet; how they rattled and rumbled!

"My uncle wasn't looking. He walked on and left me behind. He didn't
see me push them. He didn't see them fall. He didn't hear them rattle.
But as they reached the bottom I heard myself--or thought I heard--a
vague cry below. A cry as of some one wounded. I was frightened at
that; I didn't dare to look down, but ran on to my uncle. Not till
some hours after did I know the whole truth, for we walked along the
cliffs all the way to Kynance, and then returned inland by the road to
the Lizard.

"That afternoon, late, there was commotion at Penmorgan. The servants
brought us word how a bit of the cliff near Michael's Crag had
foundered unawares, and struck two people who were walking below--a
Mr. Trevennack, in lodgings at Gunwalloe, and his boy Michael. The
father wasn't much hurt, they said; but the son--oh, Eustace! the son
was dangerously wounded. ... I listened in terror.... He lived out the
night, and died next morning."

Tyrrel leaned back in agony as he spoke, and looked utterly crushed.
It was an awful memory. Le Neve hardly knew what to say, the man's
remorse was so poignant. After all those years the boy's thoughtless
act seemed to weigh like a millstone round the grown man's neck.
Eustace held his peace, and felt for him. By and by Tyrrel went on
again, rocking himself to and fro on his rough seat as he spoke. "For
fifteen years," he said, piteously, "I've borne this burden in my
heart, and never told anybody. I tell it now first of all men to you.
You're the only soul on earth who shares my secret."

"Then your uncle didn't suspect it?" Eustace asked, all breathless.

Walter Tyrrel shook his head. "On the contrary," he answered, "he said
to me next day, 'How glad I am Walter, my boy, I called you away from
the cliff that moment! It was quite providential. For if you'd
loosened a stone, and then this thing had happened, we'd both of us