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. “I was glad you did not send it back again,” he said. She sighed with relief. " Spurlock grew limp in his chair. “They are coming past our table. " "Wretch!" cried Mrs.
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