A tall, thin,
white-faced boy, with great eyes and little hair, and a red
handkerchief tied over his head, to hide the deficiency; but a
beautiful boy in spite of all, for he bore a strange resemblance to
Charles Channing.
Was it Charles? Or was it his shadow? My lady turned again to the hall,
startling the house with her cries, that Charley's ghost had come, and
bringing forth its inmates in consternation.
CHAPTER LVIII.
BYWATER'S DANCE.
Not Charley's shadow--not Charley's ghost--but Charley himself, in real
flesh and blood. One knew him, if the rest did not; and that was
Judith. She seized upon him with sobs and cries, and sat down on the
hall bench and hugged him to her. But Charley had seen some one else,
and he slipped from Judith to the arms that were held out to shelter
him, his warm tears breaking forth. "Mamma! mamma!"
Mrs. Channing's tears fell fast as she received him. She strained him
to her bosom, and held him there; and they had to hold _her_, for her
emotion was great. It is of no use endeavouring to describe this sort
of meeting. When the loved who have been thought dead, are restored to
life, all description must fall short of reality, if it does not
utterly fail. Charley, whom they had mourned as lost, was with them
again: traces of sickness, of suffering were in his face, in his
attenuated form; but still he was in life. You must imagine what it
was.
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