“It’s odd,” said Ann Veronica, re-entering the flat. ‘How did you get in? The house is all locked up. Thames took it, and beheld the portrait of a young man, apparently—judging from his attire—of high rank, whose proud and patrician features certainly presented a very striking resemblance to his own. “After all, why should he be surprised?” she remarked. 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. That night she found a ship bound to sail for the heathen nation called America.
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