The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

20 THE CHILD OF WATERLOO. was still a something hidden there which marred the beauty of all things and tempered the young happiness of her heart to a sedater feeling. What could it be that interposed its cruel blight upon the joy of one so fair and surely so good? Too young was she for those ill-impressed affections that bring more tears than smiles; too young to bave yet discovered that the flowers of life only bloom in such rich beauty on the world’s threshold, and that, after that, they are few and far between. And yet she was unhappy. But now she raises her eyes to Heaven, and clasps her hands; she speaks, and her words fall like low notes of distant music on the ear. | ‘* He will tell me all to-day,” she said; ‘‘he has promised he will tell me al] to-day; I am the child of mystery. I have no kindred, none to love me with that love which should spring from a mother’s heart. I am desolate, very desolate.” . A tear stole down her cheek, and fell upon one of her small, exquisitely shaped hands. Oh! what beauty, what intelligence there may be ina hand! She started as the pearly drop made its presence known by thus gently flowing from her eyes. ‘* For shame!” she said; ‘‘is thistrue? Isthis grateful? Who has been so tenderly—so kindly, fondly nurtured as I have been —upon whom has so much care been Javished—upon whom have the eyes of true affection beamed more devotedly? and yet I weep and say that Iam desolate. No—no—no; I may be sad at times, but Iam not desolate, while warm, kind hearts exist beneath that roof which will ever, to me, be a hallowed spot. rendered sacred as the home of «learest affections. ** He will tell me all. now, to-day,’’ she said again; ‘‘ he has promised to tell me all, and yet, how little is that all he says. And, when I wept upon his breast, and begged to know the story of my life, he said he knew so little that he had not told me, lest I should be unhappy by losing my spirits in wild con- jecture.” A ray of sunlight, which had suddenly dipped from behind a projection of the house, fell upon her face, and she turned aside to avoid it. On the moment she became aware of the presence of a stranger in the wilderness, who was leaning against the trunk of a tree at some distance, and who seemed to be most intently observing her. CHAPTER VI. So unusual a sight was a stranger in the wilderness of Moncton Friars that for a moment Mabel could hardly believe the evidence of her own eyes to the fact that there was with her on that spot, which she thought secure from all intrusion, one whom she knew not. He did not speak. He looked tired, travel-worn, and ex- hausted. The apparel he wore had quent? seen much service; it was patched and repatched clumsily in all directions; shoes he had none; and one of his feet was bleeding as if from some comicbooks. com