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. Two shots were fired, and presently the clashing of swords was heard below. ’ A twinkle crept into Mrs Sindlesham’s eye. Thank you for walking me home the other day.
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