Wives and Widows; or, The Broken LifeStephens, Ann S. (Ann Sophia)
General
Wives and Widows; or, The Broken Life
Stephens, Ann S. (Ann Sophia)
Fiction
"Lawrence had been grave and preoccupied all the way, but when we
quitted our horses and went down to the fall, his spirits rose, and he
looked around upon the scene with animation. The cataract, for it was
little more, leaped through a chasm between two precipices, formed by a
vast rock, which some convulsion of nature had split asunder. Down this
chasm the crystal waters plunged nearly a hundred feet, like a stream of
shooting diamonds, covering the sides of each precipice with fleeces of
emerald-green moss. From these mosses sprung ferns that waved like ten
thousand plumes in the current of air that blew coolly down the ravine,
keeping every thing in graceful motion. Young trees added their
luxuriance to the scene, crowning the summit of the rocks like a diadem,
and a host of clustering vines fell over the edge of the precipice,
streaming downwards like banners on a battlement, and sometimes sweeping
out with the current.
"We entered the ravine first, and stood within the very spray of the
cataract; for the stream widened out directly after it left the chasm,
and went rioting off among boulders and broken rocks, across which a
plank bridge had been flung, which commanded a full view of the fall. We
stood a while enjoying the view, and then moved up a footpath that ran
along the right-hand precipice, from which we could look down the
ravine, and attain an entirely different view from the one we had left.
The path was broken and abrupt, but this was scarcely an objection to
us. There was something exhilarating in the exercise, and I rather liked
the vigorous climbing after so long a ride on horseback; even with the
obstruction of a long skirt flung over one arm, it was scarcely
fatiguing. We had nearly reached the top of the precipice, I had taken
Mr. Lawrence's arm, for he insisted that I must be out of breath, and I
was protesting against his assertion, when a large dog rushed out of the
undergrowth, which grew thickly on that side of the path, as if
frightened at something, and made a plunge directly against me.
"My arm was torn from its support, I staggered--reeled on the verge of
the precipice, flung out my arms, and plunged down--down--down into
chaos. I had neither struck the earth nor water, something hard and firm
girded my body. My face was smothered in green, damp leaves, and my hair
already dripped with falling spray.
"I heard the roar and rush of waters all around me, and through it a
fierce cry as of some one in agony. I attempted to move, but the
branches that supported me swayed downward, and with a desperate spring
I caught at the stem of a wild vine, which clung to and spread over the
face of the precipice, twisting itself in with the young tree, which but
for that would have broken under my weight. Looking upward through the
blinding mist, I saw a white face bending over the precipice, and heard
a voice hoarse with terror calling upon me to hold firmly and keep
still.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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