THE BRIDGE. 
427 
us all to think that there is nothing so des- 
picable (besides being wicked) as a lie.” 
The girls were now standing on the little 
foot-bridge, looking over the railing into the 
river, which was here quite deep. There 
were large trees at each end of this bridge, 
which cast their shadows entirely across it; 
and it was a favourite resting-place for the 
children in their walks to and from the 
village. 
“ How pleasant it is here!” said Annie, 
after a little pause. “If I should ever go 
away, I should like to have a picture of 
this bridge. I think one might make a 
very pretty sketch from that point below.” 
Antoinette did not answer; and Annie, 
glancing at the reflection of her face in the 
water, saw she was crying. 
“Pray, don’t cry!” she hastened to say. 
“ I did not mean to hurt your feelings. You 
know you began talking about it, or I 
should not have mentioned it.” 
Antoinette pressed her cousin’s hands. 
“Never mind,” said she. “ It was not any 
thing you said, but I am so ashamed to 
think of it; and I cannot get over it, though 
