The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 256: what you’re looking at

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

THE CHILD OF WATERLOO. — 259 have already far too long, for a friend, left it. Come with me, and we can talk in whispers there without the fear of disturb- ing him. He was sleeping soundly.” enry accompanied Mabel to the old man’s chamber, and at the first glance of his face that they took it would almost seem that he was dead, so death-like did the countenance look. The eyes were only partially closed, and the portion of them that were visible had. that strange opaque appearance which only ensues when the spirit has quitted, or is very shortly about to uit, its earthly abiding place. The cheeks, too, had strangely allen. There were all the indications of the hand of the de- stroyer, and Mabel uttered a sound of alarm as she looked upon what at that moment she believed to be the corpse of her grand- father. But such was not the case. He spoke again, and his voice was, strange to say, nearer now to its natural tone than it had been when last she heard it; but too soon she found that al- though the tones were more like a happier state, the mind was one. What he now said had no method in it. All was dis- jointed and variable. Mabel could not speak for weeping; and he seemed to hear the deep sobs that came from her lips. ‘¢ Hush, hush!” he said; ** who is that who—I cannot see—who weeps for the old man? Mabel! Mabel! my child’s child; Mabel, come to my arms.” He stretched out his arms, and clasped her for a moment to his breast. ‘‘Happy!” he said; ‘‘ quite happy now, May God’s choicest blessings light upon you—upon all—Mabel!” The hands relaxed their hold, and with a sigh he fell back upon the pillow, from which he had partially raised himeelf. ‘‘He.will sleep again,” said Mabel, as she dashed the tears Naa her eyes. ‘‘ He will sleep again, and I will still watch by nim.” Henry gently led her from the bed, as he whispered to her, — ‘‘There is no need of watching. He does sleep, my Mabel, on oe the sleep which knows no waking—it is the sleep of eath. CHAPTER XLVII. MABEL's grief for the death of her grandfather was at first of such a character as to be beyond all control. It was the first time she had ever felt such a bereavement so as to feel conscious of the time and the mode at which it occurred; for although death had taken from her those near and dear ties which should have helped to make up the joy of her existence, yet she had not personally witnessed the disseverment of any of these holy ties which bind human nature together. It took her indeed some days before she could look upon the whole matter as a re- ality. But by then the affectionate solicitude of the Mortons had taught her to feel that although death had robbed her of one loving, gentle heart, which beamed upon her with affection. comicbooks. com