The Freemason's Daughter: A Novel — page 237: what you’re looking at

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

230 THE FREEMASONS DAUGHTER. towards her, and throwing her arms round her with that soothing confidence which makes its way at once to the wounded heart; “ one who can share your sor- rows, Amy—for I, too, am motherless. One who can feel for your lonely position—for, till lately,”’ she added with an ingenuous blush, “I had none to love me, and you have many.” The two innocent girls embraced. Walliam seized the occasion to lead Amy from the room. The dying widow’s prayer was heard. God had raised up a friend for the orphan! and the day which consigned her mother to the grave, was not passed without the consolation which kindness and sympathy can alone bestow. ‘* Amy,’ said the friend of her lover, as soon as the melancholy ceremony was concluded, “this is no longer a home for you—a young, unprotected girl— living alone in a place like Manchester. Even my visits,” he added, “ might be misconstrued by evil tongues, who know no higher pleasure than traducing virtue.” “True,” said the orphan; “I had not thought of that. Alas!”? she added, “ how sad it is to feel one- self alone.” “But I have thought of it,” rephed William; “and have found you an asylum where the shafts of male- volence cannot reach you.” “‘ Indeed,” said Amy, doubtingly ; “it must be the grave, then ?”’ ecomnuicloooks (SO