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Gaskell, Elizabeth Cleghorn, 1810-1865

"Mary Barton"

The multitude did not even whisper while he crossed the
perilous bridge, which quivered under him; but when he was across,
safe comparatively in the factory, a cheer arose for an instant,
checked, however, almost immediately, by the uncertainty of the
result, and the desire not in any way to shake the nerves of the
brave fellow who had cast his life on such a die.
"There he is again!" sprung to the lips of many, as they saw him at
the doorway, standing as if for an instant to breathe a mouthful of
the fresher air, before he trusted himself to cross. On his
shoulders he bore an insensible body.
"It's Jem Wilson and his father," whispered Margaret; but Mary knew
it before. The people were sick with anxious terror. He could no
longer balance himself with his arms; everything must depend on nerve
and eye. They saw the latter was fixed, by the position of the head,
which never wavered; the ladder shook under the double weight; but
still he never moved his head--he dared not look below. It seemed
an age before the crossing was accomplished.


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