The Freemason's Daughter: A Novel — page 165: what you’re looking at

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

156 THE FREEMASONS DAUGHTER. Richard’s funeral she has not shed a tear. If she could only weep, I should have hope, for tears relieve the heart.” Mrs. Lawrence, during the conversation between the lovers, was seated, with a listless air, by the win- dow of her little parlour, her eyes fixed upon the _ ground with that vacant expression which shows how deeply the soul is absorbed in contemplation. Her generally pale cheek had, since the loss of her son, become pinched and thin, her complexion changed to a waxen hue, like that which precedes death; and her form became more and more attenuated day by day. Sometimes she would mechanically return the caresses of her remaining child, who was unremitting in her attentions to her; but more frequently receive them with an impassibility which it was heart-breaking to the affectionate girl to witness. The only means to raise her from the stupor into which she had fallen were the notes of the piano, and the sound of Amy’s voice, who once tried, with a heavy heart, to sing one of poor Richard’s favourite songs. But the effect was too fearful to be repeated. The be- reaved mother, at the first touch of the instrument, started as if she had received an electric shock— looked wildly round the room as the words— ‘*T love thee more, my own fireside,” came tremulously from the lips of her child—fell, with a loud shriek, upon the floor—but no tears. The foun- COniiclooecl SS (SO