"To—to—no matter what," returned the widow distractedly. It is not you who runs the risk of going dinnerless to-morrow. "Old Morgan the trader," she explained, "used to save me Tit-Bits. The owner was at the door unhooking a few articles of wearing apparel which he had exposed outside for sale. "The feeling is dead within my breast. 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. John finally wrested her away from the company of his parents, insisting that he wanted to take a walk in the park before it was completely dark.
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