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. His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face. Ann Veronica had come down thinking of nothing in the world but her inflexible resolution to go to the dance in the teeth of all opposition. That poor child, trying to escape, and not knowing how. "Stop a minute," cried Jack, detaining his mistresses. “Beasts!” But Miss Miniver took no notice of his admission.
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