Ireton will do no such thing," replied the head-turnkey. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. “Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. Lucy gestured to Michelle to follow her downstairs. ’ ‘Yes, I’m sorry about that,’ Gerald uttered in a rueful tone. 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 my heart has ached for him!” “Oh, no doubt it cut him at the time.
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