What was yet more worthy of note was, that the widow's countenance had an air of refinement about it, of which it was utterly destitute before, and which seemed to intimate that her true position in society was far above that wherein accident had placed her. 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. And now the fiend Gosse had taken even that away from her. Why did he imagine she was making this journey to England? She feigned interest. She bolted awake in the large bed which was awash in a sea of silks, furs, and red curtains. Maggot. But he was so feeble, that it seemed scarcely possible he could offer any effectual resistance in case of an attack.
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