The Freemason's Daughter: A Novel — page 136: what you’re looking at

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

THE FREEMASONS DAUGHTER. 127 Good-night—good-night ! how sweetly fall The whispered words on childhood’s ear; How oft will after-days recall The mother’s kiss—the mother’s tear. Good-night ! it is the heart’s farewell ! It hath a feeling eoft and sleek, A duloet chord, a silver spell, Which haunts us even in our sleep. “Hush!” whispered the anxious mother, as Amy terminated the song, “he sleeps.”’ Amy cast an anxious look towards the chair. Conversation was carried on in low whispers, for fear of disturbing the invalid. The fear was a vain one: his gentle spirit had passed away while his sister was singing—passed without a struggle. Beacham was the first to perceive it. Sinking on his knees, he drew Amy beside him, and prayed, in a voice broken by emotion, for strength to the widowed mother’s heart, fortitude to the brotherless girl, who first learnt from the voice of him she loved the sad loss she had sustained. Who but a mother, who has been bereaved of her first hope, can paint the agony of a mother’s heart? Who but a sister, who has seen the brother to whom she looked up with pride and affection torn away, can imagine a sister’s sorrow’ To attempt painting the widow and Amy’s would be a task beyond our strength. We draw a veil over sorrows which are too sacred to be exposed to the gaze of the world. ‘‘T was right,” said Small, on the following morning, COUN Goo! SS (SO mn