" "And what—what was your answer?" demanded the widow, eagerly. . “I think this ends the business,” he said, turning to his sister. His arm fell to his side. 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. It’s—it’s a serious prohibition. She made lumpish and inadequate interruptions rather than replies. ‘I escape from a fate entirely misérable, you understand.
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