The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 155: what you’re looking at

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

THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTER 137 Owen. Then, as she strained her youngest daughter to her bosom, she cried, with much fervour, “ Thank God for having preserved you to comfort me! ”’ For some minutes neither mother nor daughter could give utterance to another word, so profound was their grief, so convulsive were the sobs that rent their bosoms, so deluging were the tears that they shed. Again and again did Mrs. Owen clasp Mary in her arms, for the worldly-minded woman was fearfully chastened by the awful catastrophe in which her intrigues and machinations had plunged her other three children. ‘‘ And you tell me, Mary, that you can forgive me? ”’ she said, at length. ‘‘ Ah! it is a sad thing for a mother to be compelled to ask pardon of her daughter. But I know and I feel deeply, deeply, that I have been very wicked, that. my conduct has been horrible — ”’ ‘““Oh, my dear mother, speak not thus,” interrupted. Mary, lavishing the most tender caresses upon her wretched. parent. ‘‘ And yet in one sense I am overjoyed to hear you use such language. Forgetting the sad past so far as you — yourself are concerned, I now feel that I have again a mother whom I can love and cherish. ‘“ Mary, you possess the kindest of hosirts,” murmured. - Mrs. Owen, profoundly affected; and all this woman of the world’s emotions were now as eenuine and as sincere as for so many years of her life her hypocrisies had been well sustained. ‘‘ But whenever you look upon me, shall you not shudder as you think that it was I who sent your sisters forth upon that fatal mission which has consigned one to an early grave and plunged the other two into mad- cells? ”’ ‘‘Q Heaven! I cannot bear to think of it, ” eried Mary, with a strong shudder convulsing her entire frame. ‘ But, ah! I charge not all this, my dearest mother, against you. Full well do I know that little indeed could you foresee so frightful a catastrophe.” | ‘““O God, no!”’ rejoined Mrs. Owen. ‘“ But now I ask you, Mary, will you be content to leave this peaceful asylum which was so generously granted you when compelled to fly from your own mother’s care, will you return to this poor mother, now that she is bereaved, stricken down with the strong hand of affliction? ”’ (C(O) nn) GDoOo “Si inn