The Freemason's Daughter: A Novel — page 233: what you’re looking at

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

226 THE FREEMASONS DAUGHTER. CHAPTER XVI. On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires; B’en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E’en in their ashes live their wonted fires. GRAY’S ELEGY. Amy LAWRENCE was not mistaken in the sad anti- cipation she had given utterance to respecting her mother, on the day when she parted with Henry Beacham. The poor old widow—prematurely old— for Time had marked his course by the scars which each succeeding year had left upon her heart—continued gradually to sink from a-state of dreamy apathy to a still more perfect unconsciousness of all around. The approach of death was so gradual, and the sufferer so worn and subdued by the trials and struggles of life, that the grim monarch found not an unresisting, but a willing victim. Misery had dimm’d his terrors—grief so numbed her heart, that it was all but insensible to the last pangs of Nature. Amy’s trial was indeed a severe one ; but her courage was sustained by that holiness of affection and strong sense of duty which supports the virtuous mind ecomnuicloooks (SO mn