Still, to commit one’s self in such a vehicle, through a howling tempest of wind and rain, with a beetling precipice above and a raging abyss below, required that courage which despair alone can inspire. Yet, wild as the sounds and sights of danger were, both above, beneath, and around, and doubtful and dangerous as the mode of escaping appeared to be, Lovel and the old mendicant agreed, after a moment’s consultation, and after the former, by a sudden strong pull, had, at his own imminent risk, ascertained the security of the rope, that it would be best to secure Miss Wardour in the chair, and trust to the tenderness and care of those above for her being safely craned up to the top of the crag. “Let my father go first,” exclaimed Isabella; “for God’s sake, my friends, place him first in safety!” “It cannot be, Miss Wardour,” said Lovel;--“your life must be first secured--the rope which bears your weight may”-- “I will not listen to a reason so selfish!” “But ye maun listen to it, my bonnie lassie,” said Ochiltree, “for a’ our lives depend on it--besides, when ye get on the tap o’ the heugh yonder, ye can gie them a round guess o’ what’s ganging on in this Patmos o’ ours--and Sir Arthur’s far by that, as I’m thinking.” Struck with the truth of this reasoning, she exclaimed, “True, most true; I am ready and willing to undertake the first risk--What shall I say to our friends above?” “Just to look that their tackle does not graze on the face o’ the crag, and to let the chair down and draw it up hooly and fairly;--we will halloo when we are ready.” With the sedulous attention of a parent to a child, Lovel bound Miss Wardour with his handkerchief, neckcloth, and the mendicant’s leathern belt, to the back and arms of the chair, ascertaining accurately the security of each knot, while Ochiltree kept Sir Arthur quiet. “What are ye doing wi’ my bairn?--what are ye doing?--She shall not be separated from me--Isabel, stay with me, I command you!” “Lordsake, Sir Arthur, haud your tongue, and be thankful to God that there’s wiser folk than you to manage this job,” cried the beggar, worn out by the unreasonable exclamations of the poor Baronet. “Farewell, my father!” murmured Isabella--“farewell, my--my friends!” and shutting her eyes, as Edie’s experience recommended, she gave the signal to Lovel, and he to those who were above. She rose, while the chair in which she sate was kept steady by the line which Lovel managed beneath. With a beating heart he watched the flutter of her white dress, until the vehicle was on a level with the brink of the precipice. “Canny now, lads, canny now!” exclaimed old Mucklebackit, who acted as commodore; “swerve the yard a bit--Now--there! there she sits safe on dry land.”