Do help me, Lady Ferringhall. 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. 1. His eyes swept down and Melusine felt the quiver at her lips where he gazed. His breath grew shallower as he approached the room, conscious of the loudness of his hallway-reverberated footfalls.
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