A Parisian Romance — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

A PARISIAN ROMANCE, 39 me to myself,” she said, in a voice which sounded far away, it was so low and hollow. Poor Henri was completely unnerved at the spec- tacle of his mother, who was usually so calm and self-possessed, in this state of physical and mental bouleversement, “Mother! Mother!” he cried, in an agonized tone of entreaty. The voice that she had so loved seemed to rouse her; her eyes, as they rested upon the beloved face of her only child, lost something of their stony look. “Oh! Henri,” she murmured, “my boy, my boy! What will become of you? What will become of you?” The doctor, who had not moved from his seat, was lost in amazement. Was it possible that after all this woman had loved the man who lay dying just beyond the partition, and who, during their whole married life, had never shown her any affection, but who, on the contrary, had treated her with a coldness that amounted at times almost to brutality? “Mother! Mother!” cried Henri again, advanc- ing and shaking her hand. “While there’s life, there’s hope.” “Hope!” she repeated. “Hope? There is no such thing as hope for us. Heaven knows that it is not of myself, but of you that I think. How will you, who have been brought up as you have, bear——” Suddenly she stopped, and, snatching away her hand, which had rested. passively in Henri’s clasp, GEomicbooks im (eo)