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. ’ ‘And if she can’t?’ asked Lucy. Marvel, who, as he had helped to deprive her of her former husbands, thought himself in duty bound to offer to supply their place. This young man did not drink because he sought the false happiness that lured men to the bottle. Strewn across the bed was a multitude of jumbled garments.
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