The Freemason's Daughter: A Novel — page 32: what you’re looking at

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

THE FREEMASONS DAUGHTER. 23 wandering bee had stung them when he found them closed to guard the honied breath. The attention of Henry Beacham, who made part of the circle that night, had been excited by the words of his uncle, and, for the first time, he felt that Amy was really beautiful. Hitherto, from her quiet, unobtrusive manners, he had considered her as a child; he now felt that she was a woman, and his heart beat at the dis- covery. When, as a mere boy, Henry Beacham first became an inmate of his uncle’s house, he was treated with coldness, not to say harshness, by his selfish relative, who looked upon’ him as an incumbrance, which the opinion of the world would not allow him to shake off. Time gradually changed the feeling, and the heartless man of business became proud of his handsome nephew —he found, to his astonishment, that he could love something else besides his money-bags. It was during the period when all thought they might safely treat the orphan with neglect, that the father of Richard and Amy Lawrence showed himself most kind. His house became his second home, Richard and Amy, his brother and sister—at least he loved the former as such: his feelings for the latter he had scarcely found time to analyse. “What are you thinking of?” demanded Henry, addressing his friend, who, reclining on his easy chair, seemed lost in a pleasing reverie. “<I was trying to understand old Gridley’s influence COUN Goo! SS (SO