“Why?” He inquired. 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. But ship that girl east as soon as you can. There was a great splash of blood upon it, her hand was all wet and sticky. " "You might trust me," said Rachel, in an offended tone; "but never mind.
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