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. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. Then came the great day. "Don't alarm yourself about him, Sir," replied Austin. That Capes should love her seemed beyond the compass of her imagination. ‘A thing Marthe told me of,’ Melusine answered, her attention on the garments that were still lying higgledy-piggledy, just as she had left them.
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