Guy Hammersley; or, Clearing his Name — page 98: what you’re looking at

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

GUY HAMMERSLEY. 89 father’s full consent you were brought up to believe that I was really your mother.” ‘* But—but I don’t understand how you could do that,” said Guy. The whole thing still seemed utter- ly incomprehensible to him. He felt as though the foundations of the universe had been suddenly over- turned. ‘* Ishould think some one, someone of our friends, would have been certain to have said some- thing in an unguarded moment that would have roused my suspicions.” ‘That was easily managed. Soon after our mar- riage we removed from Chicago to Cincinnati, and all the friends we made there believed you to be my son, for neither your father nor I had ever been there before.” ‘‘ But where was your own son all this time, the boy who's out there in the box at this very minute, and who of course is more to you than I am?” In spite of himself, Guy’s tone took on a touch of bitterness. He felt that now indeed he was alone in the world, that there was no person to whom he had a right to go with his troubles or his joys, that the beautiful song of ‘“‘ Sweet Home” she whom he so devotedly loved had just sung, had no meaning for him except an inexpressibly sad one. ‘‘Don’t speak that way, Guy,” implored Mrs. Ham- mersley, ‘‘as if you felt I had not room in my heart fortwo. Yousurely can’t believe that I love youany less than I did when I first came into this place?” ‘No, I can’t say that, mother ” (Guy half choked over the word, as if doubting his right to utter it), ‘‘but then I have no longer that c/azm on you that that Gomicboo cS (E(0) m