Beautiful but Poor — page 187: what you’re looking at

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

178 BEAUTIFUL BUT POOR. And her white, thin lips moved all the time he knelt in prayer. And before he arose to his feet, while the others, kneeling, listened and wept, a wild, glad cry broke > from that mother’s lips. “She is coming! My Georgiana is coming! I heard a carriage stop at the door. It isshe—thank Heaven, it is my, daughter !’’ How a mother’s ear, even when that mother was on her death-bed, could hear what no one else had heard, how she could feel so certain her child was near, is beyond our ken. But it was so. A minute, scarcely that, had elapsed when the door softly opened, and mother and child wept in each other’s arms. It was a holy scene. No word of recrimination, no breath of the past, only this: ‘‘Mother, dear mother!’’ ‘“My child! God bless my only child—my love!’’ There was not a dry eye in the room—those who had wept with grief before over a dying friend, now wept with joy to think her eyes had not closed be- fore that meeting—that reconciliation took place. But the physicians knew that the strength of Mrs. Lonsdale could not last—that the spark so near gone, flashing up, could last but little longer. And the change began almost before they ex- pected it. We need not say that Georgiana Emeline Lons- dale was the real name of our heroine, but that was the name of the dying lady’s daughter, and that daughter was our heroine. ‘“Raise me up. Let me look at you. Oh, Georgiana —my dear—dear child!’’ gasped the mother. “I comicbooks.co m