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. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. A strong coarse man, and there were things in his eyes which made my blood run cold with terror.
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