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‘Gone!’ he said. Poor little one. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. " "I don't mind the throuble," hesitated Terence, who was really a good-hearted fellow at the bottom; "and I'd like to sarve you if I could, for you look like a gentleman's son, and that goes a great way wi' me. We have seen pitted cheeks, which we would not exchange for dimples and a satin skin. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. He beheld a tall gaunt man, his brown face corrugated like a winter's road, grim, stony.
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