That is the dreadful truth. ‘You’re as mad as she is, Gerald. That is I saw her. "Come on, my lads!" vociferated Blueskin, "we'll unkennel the old fox. 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. Your time isn't come yet. Even now, during the recurring doubts of the future, the thought of the island was repellent.
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