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. “Thank you. Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had never yet failed her.
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