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. “When did you get home last night, Lucy?” Cathy interrogated through a yawn. Stanley, standing on the hearthrug with his back to the unlit gas-fire. Seeing from the threatening looks of his captors, that they were about to wreak their vengeance upon him, the miserable wretch besought mercy in abject terms, and charged his master with the most atrocious crimes. ” He bit, feeling the numb desire to maul her. Then, in a few years, he and Ruth might fare forth in comfort and security. “She found my collection of witchcraft books under my bed and threw them away.
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