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. ’ The dagger was in her hand. But it don't much matter—though he's a devilish shrewd fellow, and might have helped me out of a difficulty, had any occurred. That suggested delicacy; and yet her young body was strong and vital. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved.
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