"Isabel! Isabel! Are you crazy?" he cried, as if
he meant to go mad himself. She moaned and shuddered in reply; he said,
to mend matters, that it was a jest, about the boat; and he was driven to
despair when Isabel repeated, "I never can go back by the bridges,
never."
"But what do you propose to do?"
"I don't know, I don't know!"
He would try sarcasm. "Do you intend to set up a hermitage here, and have
your meals sent out from the hotel? It's a charming spot, and visited
pretty constantly; but it's small, even for a hermitage."
Isabel moaned again with her hands still on her eyes, and wondered that
he was not ashamed to make fun of her.
He would try kindness. "Perhaps, darling, you'll let me carry you
ashore."
"No, that will bring double the weight on the bridge at once."
"Couldn't you shut your eyes, and let me lead you?"
"Why, it isn't the sight of the rapids," she said, looking up fiercely.
"The bridges are not safe. I'm not a child, Basil. O, what shall we do?"
"I don't know," said Basil, gloomily. "It's an exigency for which I
wasn't prepared." Then he silently gave himself to the Evil One, for
having probably overwrought Isabel's nerves by repeating that poem about
Avery, and by the ensuing talk about Niagara, which she had seemed to
enjoy so much.
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