Fanshawe, as he watched his upward progress, deemed that every step would
be his last; but when he perceived that more than half, and apparently the
most difficult part, of the ascent was surmounted, his opinion changed.
His courage, however, did not fail him as the moment of need drew nigh.
His spirits rose buoyantly; his limbs seemed to grow firm and strong; and
he stood on the edge of the precipice, prepared for the death-struggle
which would follow the success of his enemy's attempt.
But that attempt was not successful. When within a few feet of the summit,
the adventurer grasped at a twig too slenderly rooted to sustain his
weight. It gave way in his hand, and he fell backward down the precipice.
His head struck against the less perpendicular part of the rock, whence
the body rolled heavily down to the detached fragment, of which mention
has heretofore been made. There was no life left in him. With all the
passions of hell alive in his heart, he had met the fate that he intended
for Fanshawe.
The student paused not then to shudder at the sudden and awful overthrow
of his enemy; for he saw that Ellen lay motionless at the foot of the
cliff. She had indeed fainted at the moment she became aware of her
deliverer's presence; and no stronger proof could she have given of her
firm reliance upon his protection.
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