The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 263: what you’re looking at

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

260 THE CHILD OF WATERLOO. ‘‘Tam well pleased,” said Henry; ‘‘ but where is this young fellow now ?” “‘Somewhere about town. I believe he has ill-used his mother very bidly, as indeed, he would anybody who gave hima chance of doing so—he’s a complete ingrate.” They all now sallied out, and walked through the streets, con- versing upon a variety of matters, which happened to become of interest at the moment, the while they were filled with pleas- ing emotions as they walked and talked. Suddenly they were startled by the sound of some one groaning, and on looking about them, they could discover nothing but what appeared a bundle beneath the doorway of a deserted house. ‘What can be the meaning of all this?” exclaimed the cap- tain. ‘I thought I heard some one moaning, as if in distress or pain; surely it cannot come from yonder heap of rags.” ‘* Indeed; we had better go over and look at it; surely it must be a woman,” said Henry Morton. They all three crossed over the road, and walked toward the doorway, where the object they perceived was now rocking her- self to and fro, as though in great pain. ‘*What is the matter, my good woman?” inquired Captain Morton in a kind tone of her; ‘‘ what is the matter with you ?” ‘*Oh! God!—oh, God! I am dying!” exclaimed the woman, in despairing accents; ‘‘J—I, who have done so much wrong!” ‘*’'You! you! who and what are you?’ inquired Henry Mor- ton; *‘ what is it that ails you ?” ‘“‘Tam dying!—dying!” ‘Well, what can be done?” inquired Henry, turning round. ‘‘She is evidently dying from disease. We cannot aid her here at all; she must be carried away to the hospital; we had better get some men to carry her.” ‘““No, no; Pm dying!—Pm dying!” said the woman; “it's no use—it’s no use moving me, lam dying! I cannot recover! Aht I would I could see one whom I have so much injured.” The unfortunate woman gasped for a moment, as she tried to get breath and speak, and then she mentioned the name of the village from which they had all come. ‘Good Heaven!” said Jem, the hostler, as he stepped forward, ‘**tis Dame Strangeways, the mysterious woman that lived in the cottage in the village. How, in the name of Heaven, came you up here ?” ‘“ Here ?” echoed the woman, “ here!—oh, God! I came to find oue who is no longer to be found;—but how came you here, Jem? is it, indeed, you ?” ‘*'Yegs; and that is Captain Morton, and this, Mr. Henry Mor- ton, if you have anything to confess.” ‘‘T have much—I cannot die until I doso! My life is now ebbing, but yet I linger to tell the truths I have come to tell. I have sought him, and have not found him,” ‘*Found who?” ** My step-son.” There was a pause of some moments, as if each were consid- ering what was best to be done, when Jem said: comicbooks. com