The Works of George W. M. Reynolds — page 269: what you’re looking at

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

202 REYNOLDS’ WORKS Yad wont to be so pale, were glowing with excitement, her eyes, habitually so mild and soft in their pensive expression, had dancing Lght in their looks, and her sweet lips were wreathed into a sunny smile. The poor mother instan- taneously caught some faint reflection of that joyousness which invested her daughter, for it struck her that the poor eirl had received a httle increase of salary, perhaps a shilling or two; and such a circumstance would indeed be fraught with hope and bliss for a family that had to count and weigh well the pence that it daily disbursed. | “Oh, my dear mother,’ exclaimed Henrietta, flinging her arms about Mrs. Leyden’s neck, “ such good news! I have found so kind a friend.” , ‘A friend, my child? ’’? echoed Mrs. Leyden, with a sud- den paroxysm of affright, for what friend was a pretty young cirl of sixteen, belonging to the ballet, and therefore regarded as a legitimate object tor every libertine overture, — what ~— sort of a friend was such a girl likely to find? “Yes, dear mother, a good and generous friend, who took compassion upon me,’’ continued Henrietta, with rapid and excited utterance; and she perceived not the sudden alarm which had struck with so sickening a sensation to the heart of her mother. ‘“‘I have money about me—I know not yet how much it is, but let us see.”’ “Money, child?” murmured Mrs. Leyden, sinking back upon the bolster. “ Yes, look, dear mother!” cried the exultant Henrietta, as she took the little packet from her bosom and opened it. ‘Heavens! gold! five sovereigns! Oh!” and the poor eirl, overcome by her feelings at finding pounds where she had perhaps only thought of shillings, burst into tears. “ Henrietta,’ almost shrieked forth her mother, now springing frantically up on the wretched couch, “‘ answer me as you would reply to your God! That gold —” ‘Good heavens, mother,’ cried the damsel, now all in- an instant comprehending what was passing in Mrs. Leyden’s mind, ‘‘do you think so ill of your daughter? No, no, thank God, it is not so!” And with a cold shudder at the bare idea — likewise with a -cruel revulsion of feeling produced by her parent’s dis- honouring suspicion — she sank down on her knees at the side of the bed, and wept bitterly. Little Charley, awakened Gomicbooks- co ) * = 5 % Pee