” Ennison laughed softly. It was among artistic people. 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. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. The next door neighbor's dog, chained outside, let out a single bark, but was silent as soon as she turned in that direction, instinctively afraid. "Farewell!" cried Jack, embracing them. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. You have been her guardian angel.
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