"All's over," muttered Jonathan. It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans. ’ ‘Lord, man, it’s only a scratch!’ Suddenly Gerald snapped his fingers. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. 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.
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