There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. " "Loves!" echoed Winifred, slightly colouring. 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. There was every indication that she fled the island in company with a dissolute rogue. Was the situation so desperate that he could not pack his best things? She had packed lightly, not wanting to weigh down the carriage they would travel in. Earles,” she exclaimed.
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