Sheppard," cried the carpenter's wife bitterly; "and, I repeat, Bedlam's too good for her. “I don’t want you to do it, to go on talking to me. His eyes never left her face. 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. "I am—I am!" cried the widow, snatching the babe, and pressing it to her breast with rapturous delight "God be thanked, I have found it!" "We have both good reason to be grateful," added the lady, with great emotion. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible. The beachcomber, the lowest in the human scale; and some day he would enter into this estate. I'll forgive him if he does. ” “I couldn’t do that,” said Ann Veronica, sharply.
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