The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 132: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE CHILD OF WATERLOO. 129 tryman once said, when he saw London for the first time, ‘‘ the road was hedged with houses.” In three-quarters of an hour they were in the heart of London, and, stopping before a large public house, the mendicant dis- mounted, and helped Mabel to dismount also: then he took her by the arm ani hurried her into the house, and along a narrow, winding passage, before she could recover her breath, and thrust her intu asmall room. A light was brought, and then the men- dicant said to her: ‘‘ Here you will remain for a few hours, and then you will go to your final destination; you can have what you desire here, and can rest at your leisure, for unless you desire the attendance of any one you will not be intruded on.” Mabel made noreply. — ‘*Do you want anything ?”’ he said, after he had paused for some time. ‘Since you wil] not permit me to see my friends,” said Mabel, ‘¢ will you Jet me write to them ? they are anxious—most anxious for my safety. I knowthey are my real friends and benefactors. Let me write to them and tell them where I am.” ‘¢That will be madness, and I tell you it cannot be done—not in any one particular. TIT now reiterate what I have said often and often to you. You are my child—I am your father.” ‘¢ And yet you have not any of the affection that they have, to whom [ do not belong; but whose kindness and tenderness have been of such vast importance and benefit to me, and to whom I cannot be too grateful.” ‘Be that as it may, Iam a fugitive—my life is in danger at every step I take. We have been strangers to each other until this moment: and last, not least, you are unmindful of our rela- tionship, and act in direct opposition to all my wishes.” ‘‘But I know you not; you say you are my father; but you are a desperate criminal also, and may not speak the truth.” ‘‘Act upon this impression,” said the mendicant, ‘‘and you are a parricide.” : He then rose and left the apartment, locking it after him; but the key was hung up on the outside. The mendicant himself, after a whispered consultation with some man in the house, threw himself upon a bed, and fell into a slumber, from which he arose and partook of some breakfast that had been prepared for him. After that, it being late, he went out to visit a house in the vicinity of Hoxton. He was employed in and about the old house for some hours. He went to different brokers in the neighborhood, and procured different articles of furniture, cf a mean and wretched appear- ance; enough only to accommodate two persons in the meanest possible manner; and having placed them in the house, he re- turned to the public house in which he had left Mabel. “IT now come,” he said, ‘‘to convey you away from this place, where you are liable to all the inconveniences of a public ouse, to one where you will not be so annoyed,”’ ‘‘It matters little to me,” said Mabel, ‘‘ where I am taken to, since, wherever it may be, my presence is compelled,” comicbooks. com