The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 37: what you’re looking at

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

84 | THE CHIZD OF WATERLOO. “*T do—I will.” ‘*And you will be guided by us?” “Tn all things.” ‘‘Then leave us now. In an hour we will speak again upon this subject.” ‘¢ And may I then come to you?” **- Yes, do, dear Mabel, com2 tous. We shall be ready then to converse more freely; but, remember, let the determination to which we may come be what it may, it will be dictated by but one motive, and that is, your happiness.” ‘‘T know it—I know it.” She passed from the room, and immediately Henry Morton turned the key in the lock of the door, so that no one could intrude upon them unawares, and then turning to his wife, he said,— ‘‘ Alice, Alice, it has come to this at last. My constant dream of apprehension has begun to assume an aspect of reality. This, I feel convinced, is the beginning of the train of evils which may destroy our happiness.” ‘*Oh, Henry, we cannot part with her: she is to us, and has ever been, all that a dear, devoted child should be. We cannot part with her, Henry. Say you will not.” ‘‘Not unless she herself should wish to leave us.” «¢ And that she never will.” ‘¢ Never—never. She loves us too well for that. But now let us consider; if this indeed be the commencement of events which may end in Mabel being claimed from us, how are we to defeat them ?” -*TIn such a case as this ’tis easy.” “‘T cannot see any way.” ‘‘ And to me all is plain and clear. Listen, Henry, and your better judgment will be convinced, and furnish me with fresh argument to maintain the position that I take up.” **Speak—speak, Alice, I will listen.” “‘ Who, Harry, saved her from inevitable death but you—who looked to her welfare at a time when most would have been self- ish, and had every sympathy used up in a consideration of their own sufferings—who tenderly nurtured and saw to her welfare and wants in the early years of childhood but yourself? Then. who can love her as you love her? And for ten years, too, which have seemed short because they have passed away happily, have not I been as a mother to her? Then who can love her as I love her, and as you love her? Tis against nature, Henry—'tis against all justice; and besides, those who have not tended her as we have, never can really love her as we love her.” ‘* Alice—Alice! I know not what to do.” ‘‘Why, after all, Henry, he who died upon the battle-field, and consigned her to your care, may have been her father, and, in that case, you have a right to protect her.” ‘“‘But he did not say he was her father.” ‘‘ Death alone prevented him.” ‘‘] know not that, Some other explanation may have lin- comicbooks. com