The Freemason's Daughter: A Novel — page 162: what you’re looking at

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

THE FREEMASONS DAUGHTER. 153 say, of her taste, whatever it may be of her good nature.” This speech from any one less unaffected than William Bowles might have been set down as affecta- tion; for the speaker was one of the handsomest young fellows in Manchester. Toa fine, manly person, he added a countenance in which nature had written gentleman. As for his heart, that was gold—all gold. Poor Beacham found himself much relieved by his confidential conversation with his friend. He knew the man he trusted, and his fears for Amy were allayed. The young men shook hands and parted, but not before it was finally arranged that Bowles should call that very evening with him upon the Widow Lawrence and her daughter. With this understanding they separated : Henry to break the intelligence of his approaching departure from England to Amy, and William to his usual engagements upon Change. ‘And must you leave me ?”’ sobbed Amy,as, overcome by the unexpected blow, she sunk upon her lover’s breast, who felt her heart beating like a fmghtened bird’s against his. ‘I only half felt my loss while you remained to me. Poor Richard! 1 am rightly punished for my selfish consolation.” ‘“‘ But for a few weeks, dear girl; I shall soon return,” whispered Henry, soothingly. “¢ My heart will be broken before then,” she mur- mured, “ with watchful days and sleepless nights. I shall never hear the wind moaning round our cottage COniiclooecl SS (SO