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. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly. Then she dropped the curtain and stepped back into the room. Then making a pretence of stooping to rearrange her flowing train, she glanced at Anna, and half stopped in her progress down the room. "That would be certain destruction. She knew she was a monster and so did they.
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