Beadle's Dime Novels No. 47: Tim Bumble's Charge — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

* 28 TIM BUMBLE’S CHARGE. “* My father and Mr. Lattison have gone in search of him’ I said, still striving to calm her. “*Oh! how kind!’ she cried, clasping her hands, ‘ and sey. eral of the servants are out, too. If they are only in time- if—only—he may—not—have destroyed himself’ “ Again that,chill of horror in my veins—I could not bring myself to think of that beautiful temple dispossessed of reason —for oh ! was he not growing very dear to my heart? How dear I dared not whisper to myself. Meantime Mrs. Lattison walked hurriedly back and forth—stopping occasionally at the window to listen, ®embling with newly-awakened hopes or fears as her imagination tortured the sounds of the subsiding tempest into wild cries, or framed them to gentler sounds. [ shall never forget the dramatic intensity of her look, and above all, her gesture. The dim light gave to her face a supernatural pallor and her eyes gleamed in two hollow rings of fire. Her lips were pressed together, a strange, wild anguish, that was suflicient in its concentrated torture to age one by years in as | many moments, possessed her whole face and frame, made more apparent by frantic gesture, and that low, smothered cry which, more than any outburst, tells of wretchedness full and complete, The poor mother, yearning over her lost child. “ We sat, very quiet, Anne and I, save that her suppressed sobbings sometimes shook me. I alone was tearless and calm. I was thinking of the day, more than a year ago, when I looked into the room which I then thought so strangely . contrived. Little did I imagine by whom it was occupied. = In the midst of our trouble there was a humble knock, and in came Bridget as we started to our feet, bearing a tray on which tea and coffee. ie — on me I know—if ye can bear the sight of me for the of that careless Tim Bumble who niglicted his duty as I never done such a thing in all me born days. Now won't the Miss jist taste o’ the tay. Iv'll stringthen ye to watch for the blissid young gentleman the like o’ which ‘arth hasn’t got, an’ heaven would be findin’ it hard to bate. Sure avin’—come now. Ye'll not. ‘ter, while it’s ‘ating, but after it’s down ye will’? = “ Mrs, Lattison shook her head. , ~ ConmiclooOoks. conn