It grew to be broad daylight as they stood here, and fresh news began to arrive from the war, brought by men who had been actors in the scene. Wagons and long country carts laden with wounded came rolling into the town; ghastly groans came from within them, and haggard faces looked up sadly from out of the straw. Jos Sedley was looking at one of these carriages with a painful curiosity--the moans of the people within were frightful--the wearied horses could hardly pull the cart. "Stop! stop!" a feeble voice cried from the straw, and the carriage stopped opposite Mr. Sedley's hotel.
"It is George, I know it is!" cried Amelia, rushing in a moment to the balcony, with a pallid face and loose flowing hair. It was not George, however, but it was the next best thing: it was news of him.

It grew to be broad daylight. Wagons and country carts laden with wounded came rolling into the town; ghastly groans came from them, and haggard faces looked up sadly from out of the straw. Jos watched one pass: the moans within were frightful - the wearied horses could hardly pull the cart.
"Stop! stop!" a feeble voice cried from the straw, and the carriage stopped opposite the hotel.
"It is George, I know it is!" cried Amelia, rushing to the balcony, with a pale face. It was not George, but it was the next best thing: it was news of him.
