Elizabeth clambered a little way
down the sloping side of the cliff and looked; on the stone, his back
towards her, sat Owen Davies. Slipping from stratum to stratum of the
broken cliff, Elizabeth drew slowly nearer, till at length she was
within fifty paces of the seated man. Here, ensconcing herself behind a
cleft rock, she also sat down; it was not safe to go closer; but in case
she should by any chance be observed from above, she opened the Bible on
her knee, as though she had sought this quiet spot to study its pages.
Three or four minutes passed, and Beatrice appeared round the projecting
angle of the Amphitheatre, and walked slowly across the level sand. Owen
Davies rose and stretched out his hand to welcome her, but she did not
take it, she only bowed, and then seated herself upon the large flat
stone. Owen also seated himself on it, but some three or four feet away.
Elizabeth thrust her white face forward till it was almost level with
the lips of the cleft rock and strained her ears to listen. Alas! she
could not hear a single word.
"You asked me to come here, Mr.
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