What is it? Good God!” An unhappy little smile parted her lips. ’ ‘Take care,’ warned Hilary, his eyes on his improvised bandage. No mercenary consideration influences me. Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her. 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. Never had her father explained.
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