“I saw his face in a mirror. It was not the arrival of the guests, but merely the maid moving about in the hall. 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. If she could have held it in, perhaps the Virgin Mary would have sent her a miracle as reward for her strength.
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