On her left hand, the peaks of the rock frowned down ghastly black; on her right hand, far aloft, the downs slept bright and cold.
The breeze had died away; not even a roller broke the perfect stillness of the cove.

The gulls were all asleep upon the ledges.

Over all was a true autumn silence; a silence which may be heard.

She stood awed, and listened in hope of a sound which might tell her that any living thing beside herself existed.
There was a faint bleat, as of a new-born lamb, high above her head; she started and looked up.

Then a wail from the cliffs, as of a child in pain, answered by another from the opposite rocks.