"If I thought he lived——" observed Wood. She felt him as something solid and strong and trustworthy beyond measure. ” “You are not a coward,” she repeated, “or you would not be my friend. Wild will hang me. There's a letter for the head turnkey, Mr. 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. "Perhaps he means well. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. She can't last long. That's well.
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