Before it is too late. 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. ” Lord, he was right! But softly now. He was extremely loyal to you. All at once she realised that Kimble had halted, leaning heavily against the wall. It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole.
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