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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Barnaby Rudge: a tale of the Riots of 'eighty"

It was she whom all this honour and distinction were to
gladden; the joy and profit were for her. What delight it gave her
to hear of the bravery of her poor boy! Ah! He would have known that,
without Hugh's telling him. And what a precious thing it was to know she
lived so happily, and heard with so much pride (he pictured to himself
her look when they told her) that he was in such high esteem: bold among
the boldest, and trusted before them all! And when these frays were
over, and the good lord had conquered his enemies, and they were all at
peace again, and he and she were rich, what happiness they would have
in talking of these troubled times when he was a great soldier: and when
they sat alone together in the tranquil twilight, and she had no longer
reason to be anxious for the morrow, what pleasure would he have in the
reflection that this was his doing--his--poor foolish Barnaby's; and
in patting her on the cheek, and saying with a merry laugh, 'Am I silly
now, mother--am I silly now?'
With a lighter heart and step, and eyes the brighter for the happy tear
that dimmed them for a moment, Barnaby resumed his walk; and singing
gaily to himself, kept guard upon his quiet post.


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