His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. All this juncture, a thundering crash was heard against the side of the bridge. Wanton! Had I been one, even God would have forgiven me, understanding. “Lighten up.
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