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. Fool that I was to marry for beauty! I ought to have remembered that a fair woman and a slashed gown always find some nail in the way. "Go on first with the light," he said. ’ At that, a flush drenched her cheeks and she snatched her hand away. She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years. “I look older.
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