'
By the Mall we came into Whitehall, and so to Westminster Bridge.
Falconer had changed his mind, and would cross at once. The
present bridge was not then finished, and the old bridge alongside
of it was still in use for pedestrians. We went upon it to reach
the other side. Its centre rose high above the other, for the line
of the new bridge ran like a chord across the arc of the old.
Through chance gaps in the boarding between, we looked down on the
new portion which was as yet used by carriages alone. The moon had,
throughout the evening, alternately shone in brilliance from amidst
a lake of blue sky, and been overwhelmed in billowy heaps of
wind-tormented clouds. As we stood on the apex of the bridge,
looking at the night, the dark river, and the mass of human effort
about us, the clouds gathered and closed and tumbled upon her in
crowded layers. The wind howled through the arches beneath, swept
along the boarded fences, and whistled in their holes. The
gas-lights blew hither and thither, and were perplexed to live at
all.
We were standing at a spot where some shorter pieces had been used
in the hoarding; and, although I could not see over them, Falconer,
whose head rose more than half a foot above mine, was looking on the
other bridge below. Suddenly he grasped the top with his great
hands, and his huge frame was over it in an instant. I was on the
top of the hoarding the same moment, and saw him prostrate some
twelve feet below.
Pages:
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672