• She stands on the very edge of the cliff, where the rock crumbles away only all too easily. But as much as he cares, as much as his heart is sinking, he knows this is her choice, he knows he can't help her.

    He feels like he is bound by chains, and he's desperatly fighting them on the inside. But on the outside he is free, his fine clothes are not even rumpled. The only thing that would appear to be even remotly wrong with him is the fact that the wind keeps blowing his silken black tophat from his head, and so he holds it in shaking hands.

    From a short distance one can see his lips moving only slightly, like he's speaking to himself, perhaps murmuring a prayer, but in fact he only speaks two words, time and time again. I'm sorry.

    He wishes the wind would die to a breeze, any stronger and it would rip her off the cliff face and fling her into the sea, but she doesn't care.

    The sun is setting, warm and golden, and she is sillohetted, the woman she always wanted to be, so incredibly beautiful and refined. And free.

    Her skirts are thick and full and fall to just beneath her knees. She's finally grown into her corset. For once the long baggy sleeves of the shirt she wears under it are not rolled up as she works. The plain brown sleeveless overdress she wears suits her hazel eyes and brown curly hair.

    He wishes that just once she could know how she looks to him, how beautiful she really is.

    He is much further back, off the cliff, on the grass behind the wooden fence, where he is safe. He feels he doesn't have the strength for this, he wants to turn away now, to walk away. And it occurs to him. He'll only walk away if she's walking with him.

    There are shouts behind him now. The women are practically tripping over their long skirts as they run, the men have lost their top hats and one, her father most probably, has taken his coat off and left it in the dust.

    She can hear them, she knows they are coming, and yet she doesn't feel pushed to jump any sooner than she should feel like, and she just stands, on the very edge of freedom itself, and watches the sun set over the sea.

    Those shouting for her have surpassed him now, and he watches her and knows they won't reach her in time, and everything slows down. And now he must decide, he can remain and live a shattered life, or he can find freedom with her, but in it lies death.

    He looks at her again, she's still watching the sun set. He starts running too. Before her father can reach her she jumps, launches herself into the clean fresh air with closed eyes.

    She spreads her arms and puffs her chest out, her father is on the cliff, his hand stretching for her, but he will not reach, and he knows it.

    And then he surpasses her father, he jumps after her, and spreads his arms. He catches her and holds her close, even though he knows it's only for a second, and they find freedom together.