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. (Fifteen pounds! And she wanted forty!) Part 4 It was, perhaps, the natural consequence of a long and tiring and exciting day that Ann Veronica should pass a broken and distressful night, a night in which the noble and self-subduing resolutions of Canongate displayed themselves for the first time in an atmosphere of almost lurid dismay. "I am," replied Jonathan, following him, "and so," he added in an undertone, "are your captors. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them.
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