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. Well, it had to happen somewhen. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. ‘Kimble, you shouldn’t be here. To O'Higgins—for all his sordid business he was not insensible to beauty—to O'Higgins she appeared to have entered the room with the light.
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