But if I escape, my gratitude—" "Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully. ” They eyed her incredulously. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. 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. Borne along by the current, Darrell was instantly at the boat's side.
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