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. John was acutely focused upon her now, just as she had wanted him to be. Spare me yet a little while, Father! not for my own sake, but for the sake of this poor babe.
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