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. ‘Went to the dogs, did Jarvis, after Mary died. . "Come here," said the petticoated tyrant. “It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. ” “Not now. But although startled and clearly afraid, there was no self-consciousness in her gaze and she was standing her ground.
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