Jackson. I'm glad to recognise you. 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. ’ ‘Oh, that tragic pair,’ uttered her ladyship in saddened tones. The aunt rushed over to her nephew, knelt and wrapped him in her arms. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. “Please don’t,” she said.
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