Fortunately, ever since Wild's late murderous attack, the household has all been well armed. 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. Her efforts were vain. " "That was my doing, dearest," urged the carpenter; "I was afraid if you saw her that some such scene as this might occur. Go for it. We wore invisible chains and invisible blinkers.
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