A new bridge had been built; but it jarred frightfully when the heaped blocks of ice came down, or some great tree was dashed against it by the rapid stream.
Things were in this state when the two sisters reached home, one day, from town. When Maud felt how the bridge jarred, she ran back screaming, and told Daisy to go first, and make sure it was safe.
Daisy was not a coward; but this time she did think of her own life for once, or rather of Joseph—how he would grieve if she were swept away and drowned.
Her heart beat faster than usual; yet she walked on calmly, and soon gained the other side. Then she called back for Maud to wait till she could find Joseph, and secure his help.
But Maud, always impatient, grew tired of waiting, and mustering all her courage, stepped upon the bridge alone.
She had hardly reached the centre when its foundations gave way; and, with a great crash and whirl, with the trees, and ice, and drift wood whirling after it, the bridge went sweeping down the stream.
So Joseph and Daisy returned only in time to hear Maud's shrieks, which sounded louder than the heavy, jolting logs, and creaking beams, and grinding ice.
Running across the bridge wildly, she beckoned for Joseph to come to her—implored him to trust himself upon the blocks of ice, or else send Daisy, and not leave her to perish alone.
There came new drifts of ice from above, jolting against the bridge, and throwing Maud from her feet; and so the heavy structure went whirling, tossing like a straw upon the stream.
Joseph turned to Daisy. "If I go to her help, we both may slip from the unsteady blocks of ice, and drown. Yet I may possibly save her; shall I go or stay?"