It was an extraordinarily lonely feeling to be
there on the cliff by herself, with the white mist round her, as if she
were in the midst of the clouds. She would have been chilly only the
exercise kept her warm. She was obliged to rest every now and then, but
not for long. She did not mean to give in for some time yet. She kept
repeating over and over to herself:
'The worthy Abbot of Aberbrothock
Had placed that bell on the Inchcape rock.
On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,
And over the waves its warning rung.'
The occupation grew so monotonous that she began to feel as if she had
been on the cliff for weeks. After what seemed an absolute slice out of
eternity, there came a "Hello!" on the path behind her. She stopped
ringing and jumped to her feet.
"Bevis! It's never you!"
"Mavis! Did you do all this for me? You trump!"
"Did you hear my bell, then, on the sea?"
"Of course I did, and it gave me my right reckoning. I hardly knew where
I was. I might have been on the rocks without.
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