The Freemason's Daughter: A Novel — page 102: what you’re looking at

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

THE FREEMASON’S DAUGHTER. 93 “‘ searched for them; what could I do? while you were out the landlord called, and threatened to sell the very children’s beds from under them if he was not paid his rent; the baker refused me credit for another loaf,— what could I do ?”’ “Your duty!” exclaimed the poor little weaver, trying to look stern; but turning aside his head, to conceal the tear which, despite his philosophy, forced itself into his eye. “I did my duty,” replied Meg, with firmness ; “ I saved my children from starvation—their beds from being sold from under them. I gave the man the papers.” | Tim started, as if an adder had stung him; he had hitherto listened patiently to his wife’s tale, in the security that his hiding place was unknown; but the words “I gave them to him,” showed him the full extent of his misfortune—how cruelly he had been deceived. His pride was wounded—his dignity as a husband hurt—his confidence in his wife broken. He was a man of a few words; jumping from his chair, he snatched his hat from the table, and was hastily making his way towards the door, when Meg inter- cepted him, by darting between. “Tim, where be’st going ?”’ ** Let me out!” ‘< Where to?” ** Let me out, I say!” “Tim,” exclaimed his wife, resolutely, “I have COniiclooecl SS (SO