The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

130 THE CHILD OF WATERLOO, ‘Well, well,” said the mendicant; ‘‘ we can converse more about that at our leisure, where we are going. I have a coach at the door, and we shall have but a short distance to walk be- fore we are safe.” He then led Mabel through the same narrow passage, and then. into a coach, the steps of which were rapidly put up after them, and in less time than she could seat herself the door was slam- med to and the horses put in motion, and then they rolled along over the stones at a decent rate. They arrived at a lonely spot, the coach stopped, and out they got; the same celerity of motion was observed, and the coach was out of sight in a minute. ‘‘ Now,” said the mendicant, ‘‘ walk quickly, and we shall be at home in another minute or so.” They hurried along, and ina few moments came to a desolate, dismal-looking house, and up the steps of which the mendicant hurried her. The key was placed in the lock, and it at once opened; they entered, and the door was immediately closed and secured by her conductor, who led her to an inner room. It was almost with a kind of stupefaction of intellect that poor Mabel looked around her, when she found herself fairly within that desolate and cheerless-looking abode to which she had been brought by that man. who certainly by his consanguinity to her, near or remote, was her evil genius, The rapidity with which incident had succeeded incident, since her departure from that happy home, which she never fully appreciated until now that she was torn from it, had made her feel as if years had elapsed since last she heard the tones of those well-known voices, she feared that she should never hear again, and looked upon those much-loved forms which never again might meet her longing eyes. She spoke not, and when she was rudely thrust into this room, she looked around her and shuddered at what she saw. It was meanly and barely furnished; it contained only what was absolutely necessary for her exigencies; but what was there, was of the commonest character. The light only came in at the top of the shutters, a short space being left unopened, or rather a portion of the woodwork had been sawed off, so as to present a shutter to the height of about two-thirds of the window upward. Above this space appeared some iron bars, and thus the win- dow was completely secured; she noticed this almost from the first, because her eyes glanced to where the light came from, and this precaution struck her with terror and dismay. ‘‘Have pity on me,” she said, ‘and do not confine me in such a place as this; it will be terrible; it is but a degree better than a dungeon.” ‘‘Tt may be so,” was the mendicant’s reply; ‘but it must be your home for some time.” ‘“My home! God of mercy!” ‘‘ Yes; you must remain here, if you will call it so, a prisoner, until circumstances change, and you become of a more amiable disposition,” | comicbooks. com