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. “How did you become a vampire, then?” He asked. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. For Melusine was on him again, the point of her sword lunging so that he backed up onto the dais. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.
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