The Child of Waterloo, or, The Horrors of the Battle-Field — page 70: what you’re looking at

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

THE CHILD OF WATERLOO. 67 ‘‘Thanks, dame, thanks.” ‘Nay, it is not worth thanking me so earnestly for. You must return it to me early in the morning. You go armed?” ‘“*T had not thought of it.” “T can supply you, then. But not a word of this to any one.” She unlocked an old oaken cupboard that was fastened against the wall], and took from it an ancient-looking pistol with two barrels, The weapon was heavily inlaid with silver, a mass of which material nearly formed the whole of the stock of it. ‘‘T will take every care of it, you may depend, dame, and re- turn it to you along with the key of the church.” ‘‘ Ay, the key—the key,” she said, as if suddenly recollecting that she had not given it to him. She proceeded to the same cupboard from which she had taken the ancient pistol, and took from it the massive church key, which, with its curiously ornamented handle and compli- cated wards, most of which were far more for ornament than use, was quite in itself a curiosity. ‘‘There!” she said, ‘‘now go away—now goaway. You are satisfied. The pistol was loaded when put away.” ‘‘Indeed. I’m glad you told me, though I dare say that by this time the charge is useless.” “Go away—go away!” ‘Tam going. Thank you, dame—thank you.” Jem found that Dame Strangeways was getting into one of those desperate ill-humors for which she was so very celebrated all over the village, so he thought it better to go at once, than protract 2 conversation with her which, for all he knew, might end in her demanding from him again the key of the church. He did not wish to go until it was quite dark, but that period was now very close at hand; indeed, when he left the cottage of the sextoness, he was surprised to see what a rapid stride the coming night had made during only the period of his very brief conference with her. He walked bowagtl the low fence which skirted the old churchyard, and springing over it, was within the precincts of the consecrated ground. ell acquainted as was the hostler with the localities of the churchyard, whether it was from the novelty of the circum- stances in which he was placed, or the darkness of the night, certain it was he found great difficulty in making his way to the low, arched doorway of the church. He took the old gothic-looking key from his pocket, but so in- tensely dark was the deep hollow of the doorway, that it was only by feeling carefully over the surface of the old indented oak, that he could find the keyhole into which he was to place the massive key. The lock was rather massive than artful in its construction, and soon it shot back with a sullen sound that pro- duced a dreamy sort of echo within the ancient church, and then the low but heavy door creaked on its hinges as if question- ing the right of him who opened it at an unhallowed hour to enter the sacred edifice. A rush of cold air came from the inte- tior of the church, so cold indeed, in consequence of its contact comicbooks. com