“I am sorry,” she said, “if you find the likeness unsatisfactory. 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 we were both pledged to secrecy, and I couldn’t reveal my part for fear that I would lose my place. They had chosen to deliberately and wickedly insult a lady who had done her best to entertain them for many weeks. The old aspect of the place was gone.
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