The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 213: what you’re looking at

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

210 THE CHILD OF WATERLOO. the mendicant reached the street-door, which he succeeded in opening before they could move to offer any opposition, and he got clear off. CHAPTER XL. THE information which had been now given by the Mortons to Monsieur Rouselli, partly of a joyous, and partly of a sad character, as it was, at first did not seem likely to produce any bad consequences upon the health of the old man, for he, to all appearance, quickly enough recovered from the first shock that he had sustained; but it was when he was left alone that memory conjured up to him the scenes of the past, and he felt deeply and keenly all his misfortunes. And when we come to consider the melancholy situation of the old man, we can scarcely wonder at his indulgence in such regrets. He had lost that son who had been dearer to him than life itself. That dear son, for whom he would have laid down his existence a hun- dred times over rather than he should have suffered, and, like- wise, that son’s child, who might, and from all that be had now heard, would have been such a solace and joy to him. She, too, was gone; perchance dead: or what was, perhaps, worse than a direct knowledge of her death, he was, in her case, left to all the agony of thought, and to all the horrors of a too keen and vivid imagination. And then, too, as if some fatality bung over all that he loved,—as if to have his affection was a fatal- gift that soon burried the possessor to the tomb,—the young and generous-minded man who, to assuage the father’s deep griefs, had devoted his life to the task of endeavoring to dis- cover his son’s child, had fallen a sacrifice to his devotion. Yes; he. too, was dead! and Monsieur Rouselli might well tell him- sels that he was desvlate, or nearly so; for what now had he to cling to but the hope of Mabel being found, after she had been so long missing? No wonder that he tormented himself with harrowing reflections—reflections which, at his age, were sure to tell most fearfully upon the physical structure; so that when Captain Morton and his brother saw him again, they were sur- prised at the ravages that grief was making in him. . But what could they do? and what could they say to him fur- ther than they had said to assuage his griefs? They could only implore him to hope,—that last resource of the wretched.— and when he told them upon what a slender founda:ion he con. sidered that hope was resting, they could not but very faintly contradict him. When Captain Morton, an hour or so after having seen old Monsieur Rouselli. was seated by himself in deep thought, and with something of dejection upon his countenance, Rafferty Brolickbones came to bim, and with more earnestness of man- ner than he usually threw into his speeches. he said— ‘“‘ Sir, if it pleases you, or if it don’t, I’m after wanting a mat- ter of a pound or two.” ‘Money, Rafferty ?” ** It’s only a pair of sovereigns that I want to look at just now; comicbooks. com