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. “Forgive my coming in,” she said to Ennison. At this time of universal havoc and despair,—when all London quaked at the voice of the storm,—the carpenter, who was exposed to its utmost fury, fared better than might have been anticipated. So he obeyed Everett and married Mary, and kept the woman as his mistress. The image did not move. “I am giving my understudy a chance. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling.
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