’ ‘But I find it was extremely kind of him,’ protested Melusine, ‘and since it is that he is not any more under arrest—’ ‘No, he ain’t,’ interrupted Trodger in some dudgeon. . " "Ha!" ejaculated Trenchard. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. 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 fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome.
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