"I will, when I catch him, rely on it," rejoined Wild. If you talk of your faults, I shall talk of your splendors. 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. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands.
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