" "Blessings upon him!" cried Lady Trafford, fervently. " "Prolonging the misery. Is there?” “Nothing,” said Ann Veronica, with a radiant face. 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.
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