The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 226: what you’re looking at

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

THE CHILD OF WATERLOO. 223 consideration for that rascally individual was likely to find a place in his heart. ; But now, as he reached the door of the officer's house, joy at the prospect of being so soon able to take his beloved Mabel to his arms again, overpowered every other feeling. But what were Captain Morton's sensations of peste compared with those of his brother Henry, the joy of whose whole existence was mingled with the thought of Mabel, whom he loved so truly. e should despair of doing justice to his thoughts and feelings. CHAPTER XLII. MABEL sat alone in the officer's house absorbed in deep and melancholy reflections, not the least powerful feature of which was the seeming absolute desertion of her by the Mortons, She could not conceive how it was possible that the magistrate’s letter should have remained unanswered. That it had been answered, and the answer, somehow, however rare such a thing may be, had been lost in its progress, she for some time strove to convince herself, and that consequently the whole question was only one of a little time. But when she came again to consider what she would have done under such circumstances, and what she would have ex- pected the Mortons to do, that hope died away from her com- pletely, and she said, with a sigh, — ‘No, no; had they intended to take any notice of me, they would, some of them, have most assuredly come to London long ere this, They are either all dead or dispersed somewhere, that the letter has never reached them—or—or they have forgotten me!’ This last supposition was indeed a terrible one, and she leaned her head upon her hands, and wept! The tears trickled through her fingers as deep sighs came from her over-burdened heart; and then suddenly she rose, asa loud knocking at the street door struck upon her ears, and recalled her to a sense of where she was. ‘*These are foolish tears,” she said. ‘‘ The time for weeping has gone past. If I am to be henceforward alone in the world, I must gather around my heart such energy as I may be capable of, and meet, with what courage I may, whatever chances may befall me. Couraget courage! [ will not forget that Iam inno- cent of all ill, and that there is a God above, who will not suffer even a sparrow to fall without his will. These tears but mar all resolution; I will shed no more.” She dashed some cold water over her face to clear away the appearance of having been weeping, for she knew that the offi- cer’s wife, from a feeling of kindness toward her. never left her for a long time alone, and to be found with the traces of tears upon her countenance seemed like a reproach against those per- sons who were striving to make her happy, that they had not succeeded, even sufficiently to subdue the most violent accesso-~ yies of despondency, comicbooks. com