He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. "We shall meet again ere long, my son," cried Mrs. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed.
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