" Not many days after this event, on a bright October morning, the bells rang a merry peal from the old gray tower of Willesden church. O God! O God!" And he appeared convulsed with agony. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. "Go!" said Lady Trafford; "it is my last request. 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. An hour later the doctor arrived; and after a thorough examination, he looked doubtful. I’ve got nothing to do for a month but think. “What’s going on with you?” John asked inquisitively, looking down at her abdomen. "His lordship desires me to say—ough! ough!" Fresh groans and hisses.
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