“What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. "Utterly," reiterated Jack, gloomily,—"as regards all I hold dear. 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. Her father read a draft prospectus warily, and her aunt dropped fragments of her projects for managing while the cook had a holiday. He was dressed immaculately in a suit of heavy Shantung silk.
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