She had gone to the centre of the bridge before stopping. It was an old-fashioned structure, and the keystone of the arch was accented by a peak in the masonry. Along one side ran a narrow ridge as a footpath. Originally it had connected a mule-track. When mules in single file went out of fashion, it was widened for waggons. When the Marlowes vacated Old Lafer for the new Hall, to which this was the high road, the road was levelled and macadamised at great cost, but the old bridge underwent no alteration. It was said the Madam Marlowe of that day liked to keep her tenants waiting in their carts and shandrydans while her coach swung over it. At first this was taken as a matter of course, and the tenantry pulled their forelocks as the unwieldy vehicle, with its four black horses and buff-liveried out-riders, swayed past them. But gradually they became indifferent, then defiant, and at last it was known that some swore when they caught the glimpse of buff and the rattle of the drag that obliged them to pull up and stand to one side. More than once the present owner, the genial and popular old Admiral, had been petitioned by town and county to build a new one. It was represented to him that had it been a Borough bridge and within the jurisdiction of the Surveyor of Highways and dependent upon the ratepayers, it would have been done years before. He knew this, and declared himself glad that it was not. A generous and open-handed man, he had yet certain whims which no mortal power could combat; indeed, under the pressure of mortal power, a whim became a resolution. It did so in this case. He favoured the petitioners with his reasons for declining: there was not much traffic except on Wonston market-days; beyond the Hall the road ran only to the moors and the Mires, an unholy hamlet which he should allow gradually to fall into ruins; the old bridge was staunch in socket and rim--when he had been carried over it on his back Cynthia might do as she liked, but by that time electricity would probably have been adapted to night-travelling in carriages and her dinner-company would illumine the road beyond possibility of mishap. One day he asked Cynthia what she would do. 'I shall build a new one, grandpapa,' she said. 'You will? Why?' 'That I may not fear an accident some dark night to some poor creature while I am comfortable here.' 'The poor creature would be some rascal from the Mires, old Kendrew probably, getting home drunk, Cynthy.' 'Perhaps the doctor coming to you or grandmamma.' 'Or you, my blooming damsel.' 'Or me. Why not?' 'Which God forbid!' cried the Admiral. 'But in any case we would send for him with well-trimmed lamps.' 'The foolish virgins trimmed their lamps too late,' said Cynthia. 'Well, see you don't,' said the Admiral, with provoking good-humour. 'Oh grandpapa, has never a Marlowe got drunk at his own dining-room table?' 'Cynthia!' 'Well, gentlemen do,' she said with shame, but decisively.