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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. He was dressed with the utmost care, and he set his feet upon the broad walk as though the action were in some way a condescension. Wild's busy. "Do you hear me?" cried the lady, with increasing vehemence. Listen to your mother's prayers, and do not let her die brokenhearted. People were passing in the street below. “Please don’t,” she said.
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