“Well, no,” she answered. She had even confided to him how lonely it was in the island. ’ ‘Then who is this Englishman?’ demanded Gerald on a sceptical note. Wild had escaped. She regarded the young man coldly. To-night they say he will be conscious. Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers. 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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