Shortly afterwards,—it seemed an age to the anxious mother,—Mr. . The hansom drove off. A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued. . 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. His eyebrows arched, knotting in the middle. "In Heaven's name! what's all this?" cried Wood.
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