She had not noticed such beauty in many years, and it almost caused her to weep. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. 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. —'Why, hang every bailiff that sets a foot in your territories, and you're safe,' says I. So Mrs. So he decided to stay.
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