On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. ’ ‘Pray don’t,’ begged Mrs Sindlesham, one eye on the general’s embattled features. 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. Explain to Sir John our feelings. Her heart thudded.
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